Catherine had only ever seen her mother dress down a few times in her life. Once, when her father had served a thirty-day sentence; Catrina barely left the house. When she did, she was not dressed in her usual name brand, luxury dresses, nor did she do her makeup or put very much effort into her hair.
Dressing down for Catrina Marcello still meant looking good. Of course. Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, skinny jeans, boots worth more than most people’s monthly incomes, and a blouse covered by a three thousand dollar jacket.
The only other time Catherine could remember her mother dressing down?
On holiday mornings, and when they visited the DMV.
Catrina sighed, and shifted in the hard plastic seat as they waited. “God, this place is awful.”
“How much longer do we have to be here?” Catherine asked.
“Until they finish scoring your test, although that should have been done thirty goddamn minutes ago.”
“Do you think I failed?”
Catrina snorted, not even bothering to hide her amusement. “You’ve spent the last month studying for your permit, Catherine. You can recite the book forward and backwards. You didn’t fail.”
“Then what’s taking so long?”
“It’s the DMV. Why else? It’s their job to make you wait.”
And that, Catherine suspected, was why her mother always dressed down when they were forced to pay a visit to the DMV.
Catherine fell silent, watching the people mill about the DMV, forming lines at the respective desks where they needed to go. Numbers flashed overhead for the next person to be served.
“So,” Catrina said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“You’re still … seeing that Donati boy, aren’t you?”
“Cross,” Catherine said. “His name is Cross.”
“Mmhmm.” Her mother rapped blood red, stiletto fingernails on the arm of the chair. “How long have you two been dating now?”
Catherine wondered where her mother was going with this. “Four months.”
“You like him quite a bit, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling.
Catrina nodded. “He just got his junior license, didn’t he?”
Catherine side-eyed her mother. “Last month.”
This wasn’t news, though. Cross had picked Catherine up throughout the whole first week of April, despite living forty minutes away from her, drove them to school, and back. Her parents were aware Cross had his license, and a brand new white Range Rover. She didn’t understand why her mother was acting like this was the first time they had talked about it.
It wasn’t.
“You know, he left the house at nine the other day,” Catrina said.
Catherine’s brow furrowed. “So?”
Her mother tapped a single finger on the book that Catherine had used to study for her permit. “Think, reginella. You’re a smart girl.”
It took far too long for Catherine to realize what her mother was alluding to. Driving laws. Specifically, New York driving laws regarding teens with junior licenses. No teen driver with a junior permit was allowed to drive after nine at night without someone over the age of twenty-one in the vehicle with them, unless it was for work, or some type of schooling.
“Really, Ma?” Catherine asked.
Catrina glanced over at her daughter. “What?”
“You’re going to lecture someone on breaking the law. And driving laws, come on.”
“Well …”
“Really, Ma,” Catherine repeated, not even posing it as a question. “A Marcello is going to lecture someone on driving laws, of all things. I mean, go ahead. I’m all for it, if you want to, but really. Even Daddy said those laws are ridiculous. That’s why he said he would be getting me one of those official letter things saying I have a job at his company with work hours until twelve to get around all that nonsense when I get my junior license. His words, Ma, not mine.”
Which was also how Cross apparently got around the laws, or so she thought.
Her mother laughed. “Your father is a bad influence.”
“Yes, just him. He’s the only bad influence in our family.”
“Watch it, there.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Okay, Ma.”
“But I will say you should avoid getting yourself in trouble if you want to keep your permit. Never mind, the certain something that will be waiting for you in the driveway when we get home.”
She stiffened in the chair. “What?”
Catrina smirked, and surveyed her fingernails. “Oh, please, don’t act as though you have no idea what I’m talking about, Catherine. Ever since your father bought your brother the Mercedes for his sixteenth birthday, you’ve reminded him every year that you expected to also be gifted a car of your choice.”
“Yeah, well …”
“And for the last several months, you’ve been leaving pictures of the exact Lexus model you want on his desk to find every single Saturday.”
Catherine grinned to herself.
She had done that.
She had no shame.
“Does it have the tan leather?” Catherine asked.
Catrina sighed. “My God.”
“Oh, and the black accents to match the paint?”
Her mother shook her head. “He indulges you too much. I warned him, and he still does it.”
“Because it does have the tan leather and black accents, doesn’t it? It so does.”
Catrina patted her daughter’s knee. “It does.”
Catherine squealed loud enough to make everyone in the DMV turn in their direction. “Yes!”
“I know you’re not a very Car and Driver type person, but you better let your father talk about that car for as long as he wants to when you get home, Catherine.”
“I will,” she promised.
“Catherine Marcello?”
She turned to find a woman holding her test and a pink slip.
“Yes?” Catherine asked.
“You passed your written test. Please take these papers to the fourth line and hand them in for your permit papers.”
Catrina smiled. “See, I told you that you would pass. Nothing to worry about. Happy sweet sixteen, reginella.”
Catherine didn’t even wait for her mother to cut the engine of her car before she was out of it. Catrina’s laughter followed behind her, but Catherine was far too interested in something else, now.
Her father leaned against a sleek, black Lexus. A red bow rested on the hood of the two-door coupe, and every window was tinted dark all the way around.
Dante smiled when Catherine did a dance right there in the middle of the driveway. He met her in the middle, and swung a set of keys on his finger.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked.
Catherine stared at the car. “It’s perfect.”
“Is the color right?”
“Black matte, no shine.”
“Did you ever doubt me?” her father asked.
Catherine grinned. “Not even a little, Daddy.”
Her father never failed.
She had woken up that Friday morning simply happy that it was her sixteenth birthday, the snow was all gone because it was April, and her party was tomorrow. Oh, and because she got to miss a day of classes because of the trip to the DMV.
Now, her day was almost perfect.
Someone else would make it perfect, soon.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Catherine said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek. “Can I drive it, now?”
“In a minute,” Dante replied. “We have rules to go through first.”
“What rules?”
“I pay for the car; I can take it away.”
“Okay,” Catherine said.
“Not that we worry about your grades much, but I expect them to stay where they are. If not, the car’s new home becomes the garage until the grades get better.”
“Got it.”
Catherine was a straight-A student. Grades were a joke.
“You need to always have a licensed driver—someone over twenty-one—in the car with you, so don’t get bright ideas about friends with licenses,” Dante said.
“I know, Daddy.”
“You’re to keep up on your driving hours; an instructor will start with you next week, no complaints.”
Catherine bounced on her heels. “Yep. Can I drive it now?”
Dante sighed. “I know you’ll probably want to take it to school and show it off, but you won’t be able to unless someone older is with you in the passenger seat.”
“Well, what about Cross?”
“That boy is not twenty-one.” Catherine swore she heard her father add very quietly, “Thank God.”
“No,” Catherine said, “I mean, couldn’t he drive my car? He has his license, and school hours are within the proper times, not to mention it’s for classes. So, he could take it with me sometimes, right?”
Dante’s gaze narrowed as he stared down the long Marcello driveway. He still didn’t speak.
“He could, couldn’t he?” Catherine pressed.
“I suppose,” Dante said clipped and short.
It sounded like the very last thing he wanted to do.
“You let me go with him in his Rover,” Catherine pointed out, “so you must not think he’s a bad driver.”
Dante scowled. “Let’s move back to your car.”
“Yes, let’s do that right now by driving it.”
Catherine was already heading toward the Lexus after snatching the car keys from her father’s outstretched hand.
“You’re always two steps ahead of me now, dolcezza. Slow down a bit, and let me enjoy this day with you. I won’t have this type of thing with you for much longer.”
Catherine turned in the driveway, ignoring the slight chill to the April wind. “What do you mean?”
“I turned around one day, and you were not so little anymore.” Dante shrugged, still smiling at her, though she thought his gaze was also sad. “I didn’t even get the chance to blink, Catherine. I’ve been told that’s what we do with children; we raise them to watch them go. It’s supposed to be rewarding. A gift to show us we’ve raised decent human beings who can handle the world. Maybe that’s true, if someone finds reward in heartache. I personally don’t.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Daddy. I’m just driving.”
Dante chuckled, but it faded fast.
“It’s driving now, sure. First, it was that you were too big for bedtime stories, and then it was that you wouldn’t hold my hand when we walked across a street. Then it changed to boys, and dating. Now, it’s driving. Tomorrow, it will be something else. It never stops. I wish you would have stayed little just a short while longer, but that isn’t how it works, and I didn’t get a say.”
Catherine didn’t know how to respond to that.
Her father patted her cheek with his palm, and bent down to kiss her on the top of her head. “But I’m still so proud of who you are, Catherine. My smart, good girl. And you wouldn’t be her, if you didn’t grow, right?”
Catherine nodded. “Right.”
Dante blew out a heavy exhale, and waved at the pretty Lexus with the bright red bow on the hood. “So, it’s not the automatic you wanted, but a stick shift is better, anyway. Learn how to drive a stick, and your hands will always be too busy to do anything but drive the car. Which means no texting or calls with your phone, and less anxiety for me.”
“You’ve never driven a stick shift,” her father continued, “but it isn’t too difficult.”
Right.
Never driven a stick shift.
Ever.
Catherine smiled at her father with a lie already ready. “Nope, never.”
Dante headed for the car, and she followed behind. “Let’s learn, then.”
An hour later, and Catherine was sure her father was ready to call it quits and take the Lexus back to trade it in for an automatic. Even if that meant it wasn’t in her color of choice, and the leather wasn’t tan.
Cross had been right all those months ago when he let her practice driving the Range Rover. He had simply given her an idea of what driving stick shift was like. It wasn’t anything like the real thing when she was behind the wheel, needing to steer, pump the clutch, shift gears, all the while listening for the engine’s growl for those things to be done. There was certainly no time for her to be constantly watching her mirrors like her father kept demanding, and she hated everything.
“This is exhausting,” Dante mumbled to himself.
Catherine rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “You shout too much; I can’t concentrate.”
“I do not shout.”
He kind of did, though she didn’t think it was purposeful. Her father didn’t shout a lot to begin with; he was a domineering man, but not a loud one.
“Okay, so you talk very loudly at me,” Catherine said, glaring at her father.
Dante frowned. “I didn’t mean to, sweetheart.”
Catherine shrugged, and sat straight up in the driver’s seat. “Maybe I just can’t drive stick.”
“Or maybe you need a better teacher. My brother taught me in a day, and he had no teacher.”
“Uncle Lucian?”
Dante laughed under his breath. “Grandpapa Antony wishes. No, it was Giovanni. He was only fourteen, and could drive stick better than our father.”
“Really?”
Her father shrugged. “Giovanni had a propensity to steal things. Cars, mostly. Dad’s cars, actually. He taught himself, and blew out the clutch in one of Antony’s old cars in the process, but he did learn.”
Catherine pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “Really?”
“I think Antony let him get away with it only because he figured out he didn’t have to teach me or Lucian how to drive stick. Your grandpapa is not a very good teacher, either.”
“You’re a good teacher, Daddy.”
Dante waved her statement off. “Clearly, I’m not when it comes to this. How about I go make a call, and see if Uncle Gio has time to come over later?”
“Can I stay out here?”
“And do what?”
Catherine grinned, and rubbed her hands over the tan leather and black stitching on the steering wheel. “Love my car. What else?”
Dante got out of the car laughing, but Catherine was sure she heard her father mutter, “At least I don’t have to kill a fucking car.”
There was no time to ask for sure, as her father slammed the door shut and headed for the house without a look back. She fiddled with the buttons on the dash, learning how to run the stereo and change the fancy lights behind the gages to different colors.
She really needed to learn how to drive stick because she was not giving up this car.
A knock on her driver’s window made her scream.
Catherine found a grinning Cross standing on the other side of the driver’s door, and she put her hand over her heart to calm the racing organ. He spun his pointer finger as if to tell her to roll the window down.
“You scared the shit out of me,” Catherine said once the window rolled down.
“I can’t help that you’re unobservant, babe.”
“I am not, I’m just—”
“Feeling up your car?”
Catherine smirked. “A little. I love it.”
Cross chuckled. “I bet you do, Catty.”
Then, he leaned in the window and kissed her quickly. He didn’t linger too long, although he never did when they were at her house, but especially if he thought her father was near. Dante liked to glare—a lot.
Cross was still dressed in his school uniform, and she could see his Rover parked a few feet to the left of her Lexus. Damn, she really had been distracted.
“I thought you were coming over tomorrow for the party?” Catherine asked.
Cross shrugged. “I am. The whole family, actually. Your father invited my parents and sister last night over the phone.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way down here today, Cross. I told you that.”
“Sure, I did.” Cross winked, before leaning in to pepper the line of her cheekbone with sweet kisses. Against her skin, he said, “Happy birthday, Catherine.”
She bit her bottom lip, smiling. “Thank you.”
“But you do have to wait for tomorrow to get your present.”
“You’re enough,” she said honestly.
Cross smacked the roof of her car. “Sure. Now, why in the hell aren’t you driving this thing up and down the block? It’s not like anyone around here is going to call the cops on you for practicing as long as you don’t act stupid. Not to mention, you know, your dad. They all probably know who he is—nobody wants to call the cops on someone like him.”
Catherine pointed to the shifting gear. “Seems I suck at this on my own.”
“Bullshit.”
She couldn’t even argue with Cross, as he was already heading around the front of her car before she blinked. He jumped into the passenger seat, and slammed the door. Leaning over, he turned the key, and made the engine purr.
“Don’t hit my Rover when you back up,” he said.
His expression told her he wasn’t joking in the least.
Catherine looked to the house. “Not sure I’m supposed to be doing this.”
“Why not? Put this thing in reverse, and back the hell up. You want to learn, don’t you? You’re not driving any distance your father can’t see. I’m with you. It’s good. Let’s go.”
She didn’t know how to refuse Cross. Not when he looked at her like he was. Not when he made sure to show her that he didn’t forget about her during his day. Not when he smiled. Not when he loved her.
“If my father has a fit, you say this was your idea,” Catherine said, cocking a brow.
Cross yanked his Academy tie off and tossed it into the back seat. “It was my idea. And seriously, don’t hit my Rover.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Yeah, but you love it.”
An arrogant ass.
And she did love it.
It took three long hours, but as Cross headed to his Rover with a wave over his shoulder, Catherine was pretty sure she would be able to drive a stick shift as long as she wasn’t on the highway. That, she probably needed a bit of practice on, given the speed.
Maybe her father had a point …
Maybe she just needed the right teacher.
Catherine waited until the Rover was gone from her sight, and then she turned on her heel to head for the house. It was way past supper, and she was starved.
Her father sat on the front steps of the large home, and while he didn’t look particularly happy, he also didn’t look very angry.
She took that as a good sign.
“Cross came to visit, I see,” her father said.
Catherine took a seat on the steps, too. “He wanted to wish me a happy birthday.”
“He’s coming tomorrow, isn’t he? It couldn’t wait?”
“I guess not.”
“Catherine.”
“He loves me, Daddy,” she said quietly, “and that means he doesn’t like to wait, I think.”
Dante said nothing for a long while, and then nodded at her car. “You seem to be doing better with the car. I’ll have to call Giovanni back and let him know not to come later.”
“Cross is a good teacher.”
“An illegal teacher.”
Catherine’s eyes rolled skyward. “You’re just like Ma.”
“Pardon?”
“You of all people have no business lecturing anyone on what is illegal or legal, considering who you are and all.”
Dante’s lips quirked up at the edges. “Actually, Catherine, I would think that gives me an even better standing to point it out, seeing as how I have so much experience, but that’s just me.”