Cross wasn’t willing to take his eyes off his wife as they rode the elevator to the bottom floor of the Four Seasons. The bohemian dress she wore reminded him of years long gone—when they were younger, although things were not as simple then, either. The multicolored dress was low cut in the front and back, making him think they should have just stayed in the room for a little while longer.
He didn’t think he looked half as good as she did in his black slacks, and a white silk dress shirt.
“You’re not going to tell me what the surprise is?” Catherine asked.
“Nope.”
For the fifteenth time.
“But we’re basically downstairs now.”
“Still a firm no,” Cross said.
Catherine huffed, but her sweet smile told him that she wasn’t too angry about his little games. “Fine.”
Cross chuckled, and tugged his wife’s hand to bring her closer. Spinning her to stand in front of him, so that her back was to the elevator doors. He placed two fingers under her chin. Pressing a bit, Catherine looked up at him with twinkling green eyes. He bent down a couple of inches to catch her lips with his. Slow and languid, he let his kiss tattoo the familiarity of their love to her mouth while the elevator dropped the last few floors.
Catherine hummed a happy sound under her breath, and wrapped her arms around his waist. Cross shifted his weight from foot to foot, making Catherine sway with him so that his back was now turned to the door instead.
Yes, this was better.
Besides, he really wanted to see her face when …
The elevator jumped a bit as it came to a stop on the main floor. With the opening of the elevator came a warm breeze from the opened doors across the main entrance of the hotel. The draft of air sent the flowy skirt of Catherine’s dress blowing out around their legs.
She leaned up on tiptoes and pressed one last kiss to his mouth.
It was probably just enough for her surprise to see her.
“Ma!”
Catherine instantly turned into a statue in Cross’s arms. Her unsure gaze darted to his, and then over his shoulder. A joyous smile lit up her face, making Cross match the expression.
“Ma!” Cece shouted again. “I rides the plane! I did! I did!”
“Oh, my God, she is so loud,” Catherine said.
“My kid all over,” Cross agreed.
“You know it.”
“Happy anniversary, babe.”
Cross stepped aside to let his wife dart out of the elevator. Catherine did just that the very second he let her go from his embrace. Stepping out of the elevator, Cross found his daughter standing twenty feet away in the cutest yellow sundress, with matching colored sandals and a big bow in her tied up hair. Dante and Catrina stood on either side of their granddaughter. Cross was sure that the only thing keeping Cece still was Dante’s hand holding tightly to hers.
Cece’s excitement spilled out at the sight of her mother, and her little sandal-clad feet stomped up and down on the spot over and over. “I loves my ma, Ma.”
God, did she ever love her mother.
Catherine kneeled down in front of Cece with arms wide open. Finally, her grandfather let the child go. Cece wasted no time flying into her mother’s waiting hug. Cece’s little head tucked into Catherine’s neck and shoulder, and for a few moments, the rest of the world ceased to exist for the two.
Sure, his daughter adored him. She was his little firecracker.
Her mother, though?
There was some kind of bond with Catherine and Cece that no one came even remotely close to having with the child. Cross thought, sometimes, it reminded him of how attached to his father that he had been as a child.
Catherine peered up at her parents. “Thanks for keeping secrets, I guess.”
The two laughed between one another.
“Secrets worth keeping,” Dante replied easily. “Cross took an early plane to get here yesterday evening. Cece and I took a private charter jet during red-eye time, so we would be here this morning. I made sure she got lots of sleep, though.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Dante waved it off. “Anything for you, Catty. Cross had the details down. Our part was easy.”
“Hi, Ma,” Cece mumbled into Catherine’s hair. “I rides the plane. I did.”
“Hey, baby,” Catherine whispered. “You sure did.”
“Misses my ma, Ma.”
“I missed you, too, Cece.”
Cece pulled back with a bright smile, and looked more like Catherine with every passing second. “You rides the plane home?”
Catherine nodded, tucking their daughter’s tiny hands inside hers. “I sure am.”
“And Daddy?”
“Daddy, too,” Catherine promised.
“And baby brudder?”
Cross tried to hold back the snort of laughter that bubbled up in his chest, and failed miserably. Both Dante and Catrina had to look away to keep from smirking. Catherine simply tossed him a dirty look over her shoulder.
He shrugged.
What the fuck else could he do?
At least he had warned her ahead of time. She had to give him that credit. It was due.
“We’ll talk about that after,” Catherine said, going back to their daughter.
Unlike with Cross, when her mother said something, Cece was satisfied.
“Okays, Ma.”
Catherine tucked a few stray strands that had fallen from Cece’s ponytail behind her ears. “Now, it’s time to eat. What do you want for breakfast, baby girl?”
“Wassels. Grandpapa Dante says wassels.”
“Waffles.”
Cece gave her mother a look, and cocked one tiny little baby eyebrow. “That’s what I says. Wassels, Ma.”
“Cece—”
“That’s what I says.”
Oh, yes.
His princess listened far better to her mother.
Her attitude was still all him, though.
All. Him.
“Do you realize the position you put me in yesterday, Ma?” Catherine snarled.
“I realize you needed to learn how to handle meetings without me sitting beside you to hold your hand through it.”
“Yes, and look what happened!”
Catrina scoffed. “Catherine, what happened was not because of anything you did, honestly. Giuseppe Bianchi is not a compatible supplier for your personality. He’s worked with me throughout the years because he’s known me since I was twenty. He’s become accustomed to who I am, and how I behave. He knows what I will and will not accept from him. You, however, are an entirely different story.”
Cross peered into the bedroom, seeing his wife and her mother standing almost toe to toe with one another. Their argument was loud enough that Cross had been able to hear it outside in the hallway.
Little Cece sat on the edge of the bed, swinging her bare legs to and fro while she sat in her bright red bathing suit. Her gaze kept darting between her mother and grandmother as the two hurled words at one another, but she stayed quiet.
At breakfast, the two women had been exceptionally chatty.
Just not to one another.
Cross didn’t miss how Catherine made every effort to smile and chat with her father, daughter, and him, but did everything in her power not to talk to her mother.
Now, all those words his wife hadn’t said were spilling out. She was not holding back for a minute.
“You,” Catrina continued, “I knew he would not be able to work with.”
Catherine stiffened. “What?”
“He’s a … difficult man. A spoiled man, even. He likes his ego stroked along with something else. Even at his age, his antics with women are quite well known. So you offended him by refusing a drink, Catty. That shouldn’t be a big deal. Except with him, it is. Is that the sort of relationship you want with your supplier for the unforeseeable future? Because the only way that man will find some semblance of respect or even mild care about your business is if you flip your skirt up and bend over for him.”
“Ma!” Catherine’s gaze darted to Cece, who was still watching their conversation with rapt attention. “Don’t talk like that with her here, Jesus Christ.”
“Yes, because that is so much better, Catherine.”
All right.
Cross decided he heard enough. He wasn’t about to step in between their argument. He could tell that Catherine didn’t want Cece in there listening to it, and neither did he. Also, he wasn’t too keen on listening, to be honest. Catherine’s business with her mother was not like his, although he understood the shitty position she was now in. He certainly couldn’t tell his wife how to manage her affairs with her mother, but his Cosa Nostra, like the other two in New York, needed their goddamn cocaine.
Catherine had a point that morning.
They would run out, and fast.
Still, this was something his wife had to deal with. He couldn’t do it for her. Sure, he could make some calls and maybe get enough in until they could work on a deal with a new supplier—likely a cartel down in Mexico, but that could take a while. Nothing was ever simple or easy. Not in this goddamn life.
“I’m just …” Cross stepped into the bedroom, ignoring the glares the two women shot at him. He pointed to Cece, who was now looking his way and making grabby-hand motions at him to pick her up. “Just, yeah, going to take her downstairs to the pool. All right?”
Catherine’s posture softened, and she nodded once.
Catrina didn’t move an inch, and she didn’t seem to be done talking, either. Regardless if Cece was in the room or not, she had shit to say, apparently. “Catherine, you need to understand this lesson, reginella. Giuseppe was my supplier. A man I worked with for decades. A relationship I curated while building my reputation as a much younger woman in Italy all those years ago. He is not yours. He does not respect you. He won’t. He never will, not unless you’re willing to give something up in return.”
“And you’re not,” Cross said as he snagged his daughter into his arms.
Cece bear hugged him, all tiny arms and legs wrapping him like a damn spider. She smelled like sunlight, innocence, and baby shampoo.
“Ma yells,” Cece whispered in his ear. “Yells to Grandmamma.”
Mmhmm.
“Of course not,” Catherine snapped at him. “You know that, Cross.”
He should have just kept his mouth shut.
“Yep, leaving,” he said, heading for the door.
Catherine had already turned on her mother once more. “Well thank you for this lesson, Ma. Thank you for teaching me something this way. You couldn’t have, at the very least, worked another shipment or two with him, so I wouldn’t be left fucking hanging like this, or what?”
“No, I could not.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because you get to learn something else, Catty. Contacts. You have them, start using them. Figure out a new supplier. Your supplier. I need to know you’re capable of handling every single aspect of this business. You will not be able to run to your husband to supply you because the Three Families have depended on us for their supply. And if your husband can get a new supplier for you, then that’s not exactly good for you to depend on. Is it? Not unless you plan on turning your business into something that is also run by their rules, and profits commissioned to them. This is yours. You are the one who needs to be able to handle issues that come up.”
“Ma—”
“Handle the fucking issue, Catherine.”
“Ma mads,” Cece told him, her brown eyes narrowed and cute brow dipped in seriousness. “Right, Daddy?”
Cross let the hotel room door close quietly behind him. “Ma is mad, Cece.”
“Why?”
“Well—”
“Ma mads at Grandmamma.”
His daughter was too smart for own good.
“Ma mads.”
“Yep,” Cross said.
He didn’t know what else to tell their daughter.
Cece was not a stupid girl. She was actually quite observant for a child, much like he had been, and apparently, like Catherine as a little girl. Catherine was the one determined to do things differently with Cece than how things had been done for her. She did not hide things from Cece, even at her young age. As long as trips were safe, Cece often tagged along with her mother. She was Catherine’s mini shadow.
She was often listening in—eavesdropping, or shit, even sitting right in between something like she was today.
This was their life.
How could they pretend differently?
They had no intention of hiding it.
“Looks, Daddy, looks!”
Cece splashed around in the kiddie section of the pool. The water only came up to her knees, but she seemed to be having the time of her life. Dragging her tiny hands through the water, she made an arch spray of water across the pool. Droplets splattered across the tiled spot where Dante and Cross rested in wicker chairs.
“Wow,” Cross said. “But we’re not supposed to splash.”
Cece shrugged, and did it again.
“Cece.”
She shrugged again.
Cross sighed, knowing this was a battle he was going to lose. “Splash less.”
“Okays!”
“God, I love that kid,” Dante said to himself with a smile.
He liked to say that as much, and as often, as he possibly could. Cross figured it was just his father-in-law’s way of reminding him that he took great enjoyment from Cece’s antics because her attitude matched her father’s as a child.
“Looks just like her mother did at that age,” Dante added after a moment, and passed a look to Cross. “With your eyes, of course.”
“Mmm.”
Cross kept one eye on his daughter, and half of his attention on Dante. The water wasn’t that deep, but kids could drown in an inch of bath water, for fuck’s sake. One could never be too careful when it came right down to it.
“They still haven’t come down from the room,” Dante said.
“Well, they weren’t quite finished arguing when I grabbed Cece to get her out of the warpath between them.”
Dante chuckled. “You’re exaggerating. Surely it wasn’t that bad.”
“Getting there.”
“Yeah?”
Cross shrugged. “Usually they don’t yell when they argue. This time, Catherine was yelling loud enough to bring the walls down.”
“Shit,” Dante murmured.
“That meeting didn’t go well last night.”
“Cat didn’t think it would.”
“She couldn’t have given Catherine a heads up before she went in on it?”
“How is Catherine ever going to learn to handle herself in those situations on her own if she always expects someone else to do it for her?”
“Point taken,” Cross lamented.
“It was bound to happen,” Dante said after a moment.
“What?”
“The arguing like they are.”
“It’s happening more often.”
Dante nodded. “Bound to happen, Cross. Considering. Catrina intends to hand her empire over to Catherine. She’s giving it all to her, but you have to consider, she’s built this from the ground up. Started as a young teenager, and she’s now a woman who has lived a lifetime doing this. She needs to know her reginella—the little queen she raised—can handle it all. After all, we are who we are, and we will not always be here to fall back on.”
“Catherine can handle it.”
“Sure,” Dante agreed, “but once she’s finally learned everything.”
“Catrina has an interesting way of teaching.”
Dante’s stony features cracked with a smirk. “That she does. No worries, Cross, her lessons are coming to an end. Catrina is almost done. I suppose once Catherine is finally finished with gallivanting all over the place for her mother, you will get some time to enjoy sitting where you both do.”
Cross heard Dante’s unspoken words loud and clear.
Things would slow down, then.
Life would slow down.
He couldn’t wait.
“You didn’t step in between them, right?” Dante asked.
Cross scoffed. “Do I look stupid to you?”
His father-in-law waved a hand as if to say, had to ask.
“I remember what you told me years ago,” Cross said.
Dante passed him a look. “Do you?”
“Never forgot it.”
“I always wonder if you actually listen to anything I tell you.”
“I do. I especially do when it’s about Catherine.” Cross sighed, adding, “Never insert myself into her business, and she will never insert herself into mine. The two can’t mingle, and it’s best to keep them separate as much as possible. Cosa Nostra chains us down to an oath, and under no circumstances can we allow the family to control their business.”
“Or let them think it’s even trying to control or impose on their business.” Dante passed him a smile and said, “I suppose you did hear me.”
Cross agreed. “I listen.”
“When two people head their own organizations, being in the same room can be tricky when business gets involved, never mind when those two people are married and sharing a bed. Keep it out of the house that way, Cross.”
“We do.”
It was the best advice his father-in-law ever gave him, to be honest. Catherine never felt like Cross was trying to impose his presence in her business, and she never inserted herself into his. It took away the option for a fight altogether.
“Oh, good …” Dante shook his head, his tightly pressed lips belying the words he spoke. “Here they come.”
He was right.
Catherine and Catrina stepped out from the back of the hotel onto the tiled walkway leading to the pool. They wouldn’t even look at each other.
“God, have mercy on me,” Dante mumbled as he stared up at the cloudless sky.
“You’re being a bit dramatic. I’m sure they’ve calmed down.”
“I can promise you I am not, and I can assure you they have not.”
Dante was right.
Cece’s tiny palm pressed to Cross’s cheek. “Ma mads.”
At her soft words, Cross looked to his wife. In the private jet, Catherine sat across the way from him, her mind in another world altogether. She stared out the porthole window, and very little seemed to gain her attention.
“Catty?” Cross asked.
His wife didn’t even hear him. He didn’t bother to try a second time, knowing she was lost to her thoughts and likely would be for a while.
Catherine had shit to consider.
He was not going to insert his opinions.
The bickering between Catherine and her mother spilled over for their last two days in Italy. It got to the point where Dante stepped in, and told them to take separate planes home. The former Cosa Nostra boss was not listening to their arguing for an entire flight home.
Cross didn’t blame him.
He still kept quiet.
Their daughter was not missing the tension for a second.
“Ma mads,” Cece repeated firmly.
“I know, Cece,” he told her.
Mad, disappointed, confused … it was all the same where Catherine was concerned. She had learned over time to handle stressors and her simmering anxieties. She had bleak moments where getting out of bed was a bother, but she forced her way out anyway.
Never with a fake smile, though.
She didn’t fake happiness when she couldn’t feel it.
Still, Cross worried.
Where he had been mentored his entire life to handle his business, and run a famiglia, Catherine had not. Her training started later in life. It was a lot to learn in a short amount of time, and her mother had an interesting way of teaching.
Hands on, and hitting the ground running.
For some, that worked.
For others, not so much.
Cross knew that he was a good boss, but he had also learned how to be over time. It wasn’t easy, and shit still happened that put him off balance. He figured Catherine was going to be the same way.
Their businesses were not the same.
She could not run hers like he did his.
This was not something Cross could teach his wife, and the only person who could teach her, Catherine was now feuding with. He didn’t even think he could help her work through the issues she was facing unless she was willing to talk to him about it.
Right now, she clearly wasn’t.
Catherine had done exceptionally well handling her business alongside her mother. And Catrina? That woman held the top spot as a successful Queen Pin for longer than Cross really knew. Four decades, but maybe more.
Catrina lasted that long.
She was the best one to teach Catherine.
“Daddy?”
Cross’s attention was back on their daughter in an instant. She sat on his lap wearing her leather jacket overtop a cashmere cardigan and purple leggings that matched the same colored shiny bow in her hair. He had even caved to her demands for the clicky shoes in her tiny suitcase before they boarded the private jet.
“Hmm, dolcezza?”
Cece smiled. “Loves my ma, Daddy.”
“Me, too.”
“Crosses hearts?”
His smile matched his daughter’s as that familiar tune came into his mind. It was a game they played, but he opted to change the words a bit.
It was no longer, “Cross my heart, and hope to die …”
“Cross my heart, love never dies,” he told his girl.
Cece nodded fiercely. “Never.”
“Go make Ma happy, Cece. She’ll like it if you do.”
“Okays!”
His daughter crawled down from his lap, and darted over to her mother. Catherine’s distraction finally flew once Cece put her tiny hands to her mother’s knees. Puckering her lips, Cece blew kisses. Catherine returned them, and then pulled Cece into her lap to sit. The two stuck their heads together, and started whispering away about something that caused a round of giggles.
He loved his girls.
He loved them like this.
Cross settled his worries for the moment.
There was little else he could do.