Page 113 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

Cross picked up a particular ring in the pile that had an emerald stone and a white gold band. The green gem rested in a crown of diamonds. It was at least two carats in size.

“How many do you have?”

“Glasses or rings?” Catherine asked.

“Uh … both?”

“Three-hundred pairs of glasses. Maybe like fifty or so rings.”

Cross just stared at the items, unsure. “Huh.”

“I spend money.”

“Your money, or …?”

Catherine gave him a look. “Yes, my money. Before I knew how to hide and launder the money I was making through Andino, the only thing I knew how to do was shop. Also, I have a storage facility with more.”

Cross cleared his throat. “More what?”

“Well, paintings, mostly. Expensive paintings. I couldn’t very well hang them in my apartment when some of them are worth more than the cars parked outside. Also, what if my parents asked about them? What would I have said then?”

Holy shit.

“I mean, I collect guns,” Cross said, “but not … this.”

“Someone once told me that the best way to hide vast wealth was in material things,” Catherine said.

“Who was that?”

“My therapist’s husband.”

Cross chuckled dryly. “Yeah, Gian Guzzi can spend money. His mansion might as well be lined in gold.”

“I was making a million a year. For the longest time, I just shoved cash in shoe boxes and hid them under my bed when I didn’t anonymously donate to shelters or food banks. I know I can’t take money with me when I die. I also know I’m really good at doing one thing that I like. If I could, that’s the only thing I would do.”

“Hustling, you mean,” Cross said.

Catherine folded her arms over her chest, and looked away. In nothing but black lace and olive-toned skin, she was quite a sight amongst her wealth and things. Yet, not one of those beautiful things compared to her.

“Yeah, hustling, but not for Andino.”

“Maybe in time, you’ll forg—”

“Nope.”

“Well, all right then,” Cross muttered, rolling to his back.

Catherine waved a hand at the items strewed across the bed and floor. “This isn’t even a quarter of it. That closest is still full. The spare bedroom down the hall? Full. I didn’t even start on dresses, hats, jackets … stuff, Cross. I spend my money as I make my money. I don’t plan on being buried in cash. I just …”

“What? Tell me.”

“I thought I needed to be something other than a hustler to prove my worth. You know? That I was worthy of these things, or my money.”

“But you did earn the money, Catherine. You get that, don’t you? People like to separate us from them—good money, and dirty money. There’s no such thing. It all spends the same. Everybody takes it just the same. Money is fucking money.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that now.”

“And there’s other options, babe. Especially for dealing, if that’s what you want to do.”