Page 42 of Unruly

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.