The Aftermath
Catrina POV
With Cross Donati gone from the private dining area, the space turned deathly silent. Such an abnormal thing for these men surrounding Catrina. They very rarely found themselves rendered speechless.
She supposed an attack like the one Cross launched upon her husband would do just that—leave them all without the right words to say.
Sometimes, Catrina thought—as much as she loved him—that Dante could be a bit too complacent. Too comfortable, so to speak, in his position at the top. He rarely came up against someone who did not fear him in some way.
Catrina knew the truth the second Cross left without looking back.
Her husband learned then, too …
Cross Donati did not fear Dante Marcello.
Catrina didn’t have the first clue if that made things worse, or not. She really didn’t have the time to figure it out, all things considered.
“Boss, I didn’t mean for him to get past me like that,” the enforcer said. “He just—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dante snarled.
“I—”
“Get out!”
Her husband’s roar could have shattered glass from the volume. His face reddened, his teeth clenched, and he balled his fists tightly at his sides. The calm demeanor Dante usually sported was officially lost. His appearance—much like hers—was of the utmost importance to them. Nothing should shake it.
He had lost that hold on his control. She worried, but silently.
“Did I fucking stutter?” Dante shouted at his balking enforcer. “I said get out!”
The man didn’t need to be told again. He hightailed it from the private space without a look back. The whole time, Dante glared at the empty space the enforcer left behind.
“I want him appropriately punished for that error,” Dante hissed at Lucian.
“It could have happened to any man holding the door,” Lucian countered. “He’s a good enforcer, Dante. Don’t create unneeded tension.”
“If he’s such a good enforcer, then he will be a far better one after he is taught a lesson for what happened here today.”
Lucian opened his mouth again—likely to protest his brother’s demand even more. He quickly snapped his mouth shut when Dante’s burning glare turned on him.
Dante’s gaze screamed silent threats. A curl of his lips promised fast violence. His posture showed his position without him even needing to actually say a damn thing.
Normally, Catrina would appreciate those things about her husband. Right then, however, they all concerned her.
“I’ll have something done,” Lucian muttered.
“Make sure of it.”
Catrina replaced her knife to the sheath at her inner thigh. Beneath the skirt of her dress, the weapon couldn’t be seen. Despite her husband’s protests over the years, she still preferred a sharp, small knife to a loud, clunky gun.
For obvious reasons …
Like today.
Cross had not flinched when the guns came out to play. Catrina and her knife, however, had certainly made him hesitate, and swallow a little harder. For only a moment, sure, but a moment was all she needed from a man to end him.
“As for that fucking Donati bastard,” Dante said, still looking at his brother, “I want something done with him, too. Soon.”
“No.”
“You will do what I tell you to do, Lucian.”
“Not in this case. I will not.”
Catrina’s gaze jumped between her husband, and his brother. They rarely fought, and she was unsure if she wanted to step in the middle of this particular battle. She tried to stay out of Dante’s business, much like he stayed out of hers. It was the respect of the matter, and it allowed them both to work without added complications.
This, though, was not quite the same.
It was beyond business.
It was family, too.
Their daughter.
She understood Dante’s position.
Lucian’s, on the other hand, could also not be ignored.
Not after the things Cross had said.
“I stand where I said with Cross,” Lucian said, “and nothing you say or order will move me on it. After everything you did to him back then, he was owed this moment. Maybe he waited longer than I would have to get retribution, but that was his choice to make. It could have been far worse than what you got today, Dante, and you know it.”
“You—”
“What will you do?” Lucian asked, not even giving his brother a chance to speak. “Will you punish me for being disobedient? I dare you to try, brother.”
The two men quieted—both silently seething between their stiffened postures, and hard glares. Catrina finally decided then that she had enough. This was all more than she could handle at the moment.
With a subtle nod at Lucian to gain his attention, she pointed a single red-tipped fingernail at the doorway. “Leave, Lucian.”
“Catrina,” Dante said, stepping in, “we are not done talking.”
“I can assure you that you are done, bello.”
“I’ll be around,” Lucian said.
That was that.
He was gone the next second.
Dante turned on Catrina as soon as Lucian was out of sight. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing stepping in on my business like that, Catrina?”
She bristled at his tone, but hid it well. Carefully brushing down her dress, and then fixing her curls, Catrina said nothing while Dante continued ranting on. She would give him a minute or two.
He was warranted that, sure.
Not much more.
After all, she now had things to say, too.
“Don’t you ever do something like that to me again,” she heard him say.
Catrina turned a cold smile on her husband. “Or what, Dante?”
His gaze blazed.
Her coldness remained.
“Fix yourself,” Catrina hissed at him darkly. “Look at you, Dante. Acting like a stupid fool in a public restaurant. Why not just pull your gun out and wave it around, too? Really make a scene for us, if that’s what you’re trying to do. Marcellos don’t half-ass anything, after all.”
“I beg your fucking pardon?”
Catrina didn’t back down. “Fix the mess you are making of yourself, bello, or we will not be leaving here together.”
It would not be a very pleasant day in their marriage, never mind once they were actually home. She knew it already.
Still, Catrina held her ground. Sometimes, she had come to learn with her husband, this was exactly the kind of thing he needed her to do. Besides, had he wanted an easier, more compliant woman, he would not have married her.
Dante took a deep breath, and schooled his features. Still, his eyes blazed and his fists clenched. That rage of his would not be going away for a while. It was not something Catrina would be able to soothe for him.
“Was that why I woke up alone in the ER the night of Catherine’s suicide attempt?” Catrina asked. “Because you had left to go after Cross?”
The look he passed her said it all.
She still needed to hear him say it.
“Dante, you will tell me.”
“Yes,” he growled.
Catrina nodded, and let out a sound that voiced her disgust. “Why, because you blamed him?”
“Obviously.”
“Use that attitude with me again, Dante.”
Dante checked himself. “My apologies.”
Catrina wished it helped.
She knew it wouldn’t.
Certainly not for their daughter, anyway.
“You had better work on something far better than an apology to fix this, Dante. Start now.”