Filthy Marcellos: Legacy: A Legacy Prequel (4 page)

Chapter Seven

“Here you are, Catty,” Jamie said.

A dish of fettuccini chicken Alfredo slid in front of Catherine. She slammed the textbook beside her closed, tossed it into her bag, and smiled.

“Thanks, Jamie.”

The chef leaned against the table. “How’s school?”

“Busy.”

“I bet. Still going for law?”

“Trying,” Catherine said as she stabbed her fork into the hot pasta.

“You know, it might help if you came here to visit Andino a little less, and spent more time at college”

Catherine’s fork froze midway to her mouth. She glanced up at Jamie, her gaze narrowing. “Should I? Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Jamie frowned. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you.”

“Not your job.”

“I—”

“It’s not your job,” Catherine interrupted coolly. “Even when we were messing around, it still wasn’t your job. We’ve had this discussion before, and if I wanted rules and demands, I have a father to go to for that. Remember that talk?”

Jamie straightened fast like someone had shoved a metal rod up his spine. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Good.”

“Enjoy your food.”

Catherine smiled sweetly. “I will.”

The chef stalked away without a look back. Catherine didn’t mind. Obviously, the man was a little sour over their kind of, sort of relationship coming to an end months ago. She had thought he was good with it, but maybe that was just her. Catherine didn’t know what to tell the guy except to move on. She already had.

She enjoyed her pasta and chicken in peace while she got her textbook out and began to study for an upcoming exam on social conditions and factors of law in the factions of government. It sounded as boring as it read. Catherine still wasn’t sure why she decided to go into law. Honestly, she didn’t know what she wanted to do.

Law probably wasn’t it.

She didn’t have a choice, now.

“I thought I recognized that face.”

Catherine’s head popped up from her textbook as she withdrew the fork from her mouth. With a mouth full of pasta and wide eyes, she looked in the direction of the familiar voice. Dark, wild hair, broad shoulders, a cocky as fuck smirk, and a lean form waltzed toward Catherine’s direction with a stride that oozed confidence.

Christ
.

Cross Donati was sex, sin, and hell on two legs. He was arrogant when he wanted to be, difficult on his good days, and sexy as fuck all the times in between.

Catherine wondered why in the hell Cross was anywhere near a Marcello business. While their families were friendly in the world of Cosa Nostra, territory was still territory. Cross had his own family and territory to be on.

This was not it.

“Catherine,” Cross said, his smirk melting into a sensual smile.

She forced the mouthful of food down her throat just so she could take a breath and speak.

“Cross. What are you doing here?”

Cross shrugged, pulled out the chair across from Catherine, and sat down in a fluid motion. He radiated sexuality and coolness with every movement. “Business,
bella
. Nothing unusual.”

Beautiful
.

Catherine ignored the shiver crawling down her spine.

“It’s always unusual when Cosa Nostra families mingle.”

“And what do you know about that, hmm?”

“I know enough. I was never an idiot, Cross.”

“No, that you were not.”

His assertive posture and easy smile reminded her of what he’d been like back in high school and college as the king of the baseball field and the alpha everywhere else. He was a year older than her, but way back when, the two had been close … So close that he’d been Catherine’s first for a lot of things.

“How have you been, Catherine?” Cross asked.

She didn’t have a proper answer for him.

His question felt laced with a great deal that he hadn’t actually said. Like time was catching up to them with just a few words. Her first kiss was Cross. Her first time with a man was Cross. He’d given her five crazy years full of more memories than she cared to count. Her first love was Cross.

If she had a checklist handy of things she had done so far in her life, Cross’s name would own every mark.

Being good together wasn’t always enough. When they were good, they were so good. But when they were bad, they were downright awful. Sometimes, they spent more time breaking up through high school and into her first year of college than they did being together. Young, stupid love wasn’t enough for it to work. 

Catherine went her way. Cross went his.

Simple as that.

Right?

With him sitting across from her like he was, grinning and looking her over with his dark brown gaze and his fingers running through his hair, she remembered more good than bad. The way his mouth tugged up in the corners when he smirked was enough to make Catherine’s lips tingle with the memory of what it felt like to be kissed all over by this man.

What was it with this guy that irked Catherine so damned much?

“You’re terribly quiet,” Cross noted.

“Thinking,” Catherine admitted.

“Dare I ask about what?”

“You know what, Cross. The same thing I always think about whenever you’re around.”

Like how stupid you make me
, she added silently. 

“You didn’t answer me. How have you been, babe?”

“I’ve been okay,” she replied.

Cross smiled as his brow lifted like he didn’t believe her. “Still running for your cousin?”

“Maybe.”

“Sure you are. Why else would you be here?”

Catherine waved at her plate. “Delicious food.”

“Mmhmm.”

Without warning, Cross reached across the table and grabbed Catherine’s hand. He squeezed gently and ran the pad of his thumb across her knuckles. Catherine tugged her hand out of his grip in order to hide the slight tremor that rocked her arm at his touch.

“Don’t do that, Cross,” Catherine muttered.

“Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”

“You liked it.”

“I might still.”

Catherine’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“Uh …”

“Go out with me,” he said.

Catherine stared at him dumbly. “Um.”

“Come on, Catty, you always had a quick response for everything I or anyone else ever said. Don’t disappoint me now.”

“Cross—”

“Catherine, hey. Andino was asking if you were still here. He wants you to head back to the office for a few.”

Catherine blinked up at Jamie. The chef slid in beside their table with a glare pointed directly at the man sitting across from Catherine with his hand still held out toward her. There was no denying the fact that Cross watched Catherine like they were close, as if there was something still there between them.

Was it there?

She didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“Who is this, Catherine?” Jamie asked. “You haven’t mentioned having a friend.”

Jamie’s words dripped with resentment. Cross passed a disinterested look in Jamie’s direction. At the same time, Catherine didn’t miss the heat in her old lover’s eyes as he likely noticed how annoyed the chef seemed at the couple’s proximity and comfort with one another at the table.

Jealous.

Cross was jealous.

Jamie was jealous.

Catherine didn’t have the time for this nonsense. These two men could compare dicks another time when she wasn’t around. She didn’t give a flying shit.

“Thanks for letting me know about Andino, Jamie.”

Standing, Catherine left both her unfinished plate of food and her old lover cold in their respective spots as she grabbed her bag.

“Cross, it was nice seeing you.”

He didn’t even stand.

“Likewise, Catherine,” he murmured.

She hated that he did that, too.

Why?

Because she remembered all too well what his murmurs felt like whispering over her skin.

No time.

Not for this.

Chapter Eight

The part about Catherine’s older brother that she liked the most was his wife, Gabbie. Michel was a moody, difficult asshole on his good days, but his wife was the lighter side of his personality.

It made for fun family dinners.

“Your residency will be finished in what, a few months?” Catherine’s father asked from the head of the table.

Michel nodded. “Thankfully.”

“Long hours,” Gabbie said before taking a drink of wine.

“And have you decided what you’re going to do after?” Catrina asked her son.

“Private practice,” Dante said before Michel could.

Michel smirked. “Dad knows. Better money, you know.”

Gabbie sighed. “It’s not all about the money, Michel.”

“It’s a lot about the money,” Michel argued.

“Not all,” Gabbie said in a sing-song fashion.

Catherine’s father laughed at the head of the table, the joy in his old eyes softening his features. Dante often came off as intense and severe. So much so, that he intimidated most people who came in contact with him. Catherine knew that was simply because people didn’t really know who her father was.

Sure, he was a major crime boss.

But he was also a dad.

He was a family man.

He loved.

“How’s school?” Catrina asked, her sharp gaze falling on Catherine.

“Good,” Catherine answered.

“Wonderful,” Dante said, smiling widely. “Only a couple of years left, Catty.”

Catherine forced herself to agree. Truth was, it might be more than a couple.

Dante eyed his daughter silently, like he was looking for something that didn’t exist. All too often, her father did that nonsense. He was damned good at it, too.

“I talked to Andino today,” Dante said.

Shit
.

Catherine stuck her fork in a piece of cut stake and asked, “Oh?”

“Yes, he mentioned you stopped by to eat at the restaurant.”

“I did.”

“What did I miss?” Michel asked.

“Nothing,” Catherine said.

“Oh, there must be something given the way you look,” Catrina said. “Or rather, the way you’re trying
not
to look, Catherine.”

Dio
.

This was why Catherine sometimes avoided her family. They pried too much and stuck their noses where it didn’t belong.

“Are you seeing the Donati boy again?” Dante asked out of the blue.

Catherine dropped her fork. It landed on her plate with a loud clatter. It was the only noise the table made for the entire ten seconds that she spent staring at her father with her mouth wide open.

“What?” Catherine finally managed to ask.

“Donati. Cross. Affonso Donati’s boy.” Dante scowled when Catherine stayed silent. “Why are you playing dumb, Catherine? You know who I’m talking about. You dated him for years.”

“Why would you think I was dating Cross again?”

“Andino mentioned—”

“What, that Cross showed up at Andino’s restaurant and we had a conversation, Dad?”

Catherine blew out a heavy breath, more frustrated than ever. While her father had never explicitly told her she couldn’t date Cross, he’d never totally approved of the man. Catherine suspected it was just because someone was interested in her, and Dante never liked boys around his daughter all that much.

Dante raised a single brow high, and instantly, Catherine shut up. She knew which lines to cross with her father and which ones to never touch. Rudeness was one he wouldn’t accept. It didn’t matter how old she was.

“Sorry,” Catherine mumbled quickly.

“All right,” Catrina said, standing from the table. “Michel, let’s go … do something for a few minutes.”

“Come on, Gabbie,” Michel said, holding a hand out to his wife.

Catherine focused on her plate instead of the eyes of her father that were burning into her.

“Get it out, Daddy,” Catherine said.

Dante sighed. “I just wanted an answer, Catherine.”

“I gave you one.”

“That you had a dinner date with Cross Donati at Andino’s restaurant. Yes, I got that.”

“What dinner date?” Catherine asked. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You didn’t invite him there?”

“No.”

Dante grew silent.

Catherine didn’t like that at all.

“What?” she demanded.

“Are you dating anyone?” Dante asked instead of answering.

Catherine tampered her frustration. “Why, so you can pay whoever it is off to get away from me? I know how you feel about men in my life, Dad.”

“I haven’t paid anyone off, Catty.”

“You’ve probably thought about it.”

Dante’s cheek twitched before he nodded once. “I’ll give you that.”

Smiling, Catherine said, “I’m not seeing anyone. And certainly not Cross Donati. He said he showed up at the restaurant for business with Andino.”

Well, he’d said
business
. Catherine assumed that meant with Andino.

“Andino said he didn’t invite Cross, sweetheart.”

Catherine stilled in her chair, taking in her father’s words.

What did it mean?

Had Cross sought her out?

Why
?

“I want you to be happy, Catherine,” her father said. “I don’t care who you choose to be happy with. I don’t care if he’s a made man, or if he’s a regular man you meet someday. I don’t care as long as he loves you like you should be loved,
mia ragazza
.”

Catherine twisted her hands in her lap, sentimental and trying to hide it. She’d always had a closer relationship with her father than she had with her mother. She loved her mother, but it was often different with her father. Dante understood Catherine, he let her live how she wanted. She adored him for it.

“I’ll find the right one, Daddy,” Catherine whispered.

“The one that makes you happy.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Sometimes, Cross did not make you happy.”

“I know.”

“And another thing,” Dante said.

“Hmm?” Catherine met her father’s gaze from across the table. “What?”

“Be mindful if he is seeking you out for something.”

Catherine knew that, too.

But the curiosity was burning.

Why had Cross done that?