Page 18 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

Dante put his arm back over the chair, and made sure to angle the weapon just so. It forced Cross to look down the barrel.

“One more time,” Dante said. “Explain.”

“Again, be specific.”

“Calisto should genuinely worry for your life, Cross. You’re too rude, too insolent, and that’ll never make a good made man.”

“But it will make a dead one,” Lucian said from behind Dante.

Calisto cleared his throat in the corner. In the corner of his eye, Dante could plainly see how uncomfortable the man was with the scene, though he hid it well. He was probably hoping this would be some kind of wakeup call for Cross.

Who knew?

Cross didn’t look away from the gun, or Dante. “If you want me to explain what happened on Friday, I don’t think I need to. The school made a nice little slideshow with videos and all, Dante.”

Yes, that stupid video. The principal was lucky Dante didn’t decide to burn her fucking house to the ground, the bitch.

Dante opted not to say that out loud, and instead, went in a different direction.

“Don,” Dante said to the kid, “or boss.”

“Not mine,” Cross replied.

“Cross.” Calisto’s warning rang out heavily.

Cross didn’t reply or look away from Dante.

“No,” Dante said, leaning forward, “I want you to explain to me what you would say to ever justify putting my daughter in the kind of position you did. You see, you’re selfish, Cross, like most boys your age. I expect that, to an extent, but what I demand will always be respect. Especially for my daughter.”

Cross just continued staring—blank as a piece of paper. No fear, no distress, and no discomfort. Like he didn’t give a single fuck what was happening.

This kid was either crazy, or he literally did not understand genuine fear.

Dante didn’t know which one it was, but both bothered him. Especially considering Cross was dating his daughter. He did not want to think about all the shit the two might get into with the way Cross behaved.

“You don’t think with the head up here,” Dante said, tapping Cross’s forehead with the tip of the gun’s barrel. Then, he clicked off the safety, racked the gun, and pointed it downward. Right at Cross’s lap—at his groin, actually. “No, you’re too busy thinking with the smaller head down there because that’s easy gratification.”

Anyone would have flinched.

Dante would have fucking flinched.

Cross just sat here, still blank.

Pissed, Dante stood, and pushed the chair away. His gun stayed pointed downward, and then he pulled the trigger. Of course, the weapon only clicked because it was empty.

Cross didn’t even jump. He just stared at Dante as though he knew that was going to happen.

“Are we done?” Cross asked dryly.

Yes, they absolutely were.

Should he stay in that office for five more minutes, he was not sure what he might do to Cross Donati.

Nothing good.

“You better hope we never have to revisit this conversation, Cross, or one even marginally like it,” Dante said, and dropped the gun in Cross’s lap. “If you ever put my daughter in a positon like that again, this will end far differently for you. Frankly, we shouldn’t have to worry about this again anyway because you’re going to keep your distance from Catherine from here on out.”

“All right,” Cross said.