by Bethany-Kris
She soaked in that sunlight in her Quarter Lotus pose. With her legs loosely crossed on the stool, and both bare feet resting on the opposite thigh, she let her hands sit palm up on her legs. That way, she felt at least a part of her was open to releasing whatever bad energy was dragging her down.
The first time Cara had suggested Catherine meditate as a way to relax or soothe her anxiety, she laughed. She literally thought the woman was joking.
What in the hell was meditating going to do for her?
Truth be told, Catherine didn’t know how to meditate. She wanted to make a joke out of something that confused her because that was easier than admitting she didn’t know how to calm her mind and body. Certainly not enough to get into that kind of a state.
Yet, Cara pushed.
Catherine learned.
Now, she meditated often. A few times a week, or more, if she was having particularly stressful things piling up on her. She took thirty minutes, or sometimes an hour if she could afford the time, to sit on the stool in front of the window, and clear her mind. It was her, the stool, the sky, and silent thoughts.
One breath … two.
Inhale, one, two, three … exhale.
Catherine was back to college for what should be full-time classes. Instead of the five classes she could have taken, she opted into four. It was still a lot, and she wasn’t getting home until after supper most days. Add in going out nearly every night to deal when she was called, and she couldn’t find time to open a damn book to study.
Although, even if she did, Catherine couldn’t say she actually wanted to.
To top it all off, there was Cross.
Or rather, a lack of Cross.
Catherine hadn’t known what to expect after she left his penthouse the morning after their hookup, but radio silence for a week definitely wasn’t it. A call, maybe, or a text. Then again, she had no one to blame for that but herself, considering she was the one who left with only a note behind.
That was kind of shitty of her.
She hadn’t known how to deal with the morning … not after a night like that. So, she opted for the easy way out. A coward’s way out, sure, but easy.
A knock on her apartment door made Catherine’s eyes pop open. She wasn’t even sure she had heard it properly, as when she meditated, she often heard nothing at all.
A second, more persistent knock came a second time.
Catherine didn’t move from her stool when she called out, “Yeah, it’s open.”
Michel, her older brother, popped his head in with a grin. “Too lazy to open your door, or what?”
“Get in here and shut up.”
“Hey, be nice.” Michel stepped into the small apartment and closed the door behind him. “I brought you—”
Catherine only saw the flash of a white doggy bag with her favorite restaurant’s logo on the front and she squealed. “Yes, you are the best brother that ever existed when you’re not being a shit.”
Michel laughed as she scuttled off the stool like a mouse. Catherine stuck her tongue out at her brother when she snatched the bag from his outstretched hands. He only shook his head while she fell onto the couch and opened the bag.
A cream cheese bagel, a perfect cheese omelet, and a hot coffee tucked into the corner. Catherine sucked the scent of the food in, and sighed. She pulled the coffee out first and took a huge gulp of the sweetened, hot liquid.
“Oh, my God,” Catherine groaned.
Michel fell into the couch beside her. “I was in the neighborhood.”
She pulled out the bagel and licked a bit of the cream cheese off the side. “Oh?”
“Gabbie had a … thing.”
“What kind of thing?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” her brother muttered.
“Don’t bring me food first thing in the morning and expect me to wait to eat it while we talk, Michel.”
He rolled his eyes upward. “I met up with her, and then she headed back to work. I don’t need to be at the hospital until this afternoon, so I figured I would stop in. Bring your ass some grub.”
Catherine didn’t miss how her brother avoided her initial question. “What did Gabbie have to do on this side of the city?”
Michel’s wife was usually busy enough working at the Manhattan law firm day and night. Especially lately with the new case that involved a huge team of people putting together a defense. Or, that’s what her sister-in-law explained the last time Catherine sat down to talk to Gabbie.
“An appointment,” Michel said.
“For?”
“A doctor.”
Catherine eyed her brother. “Are you purposely being difficult or what?”
Michel let out a hard laugh. “No, just … careful.”
“Why?”
“God, you are not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not on your life,” Catherine mumbled around a bite of bagel.
“She got in to a new OB-GYN that comes highly recommended considering her situation. She didn’t mind the travel for the reassurance, I guess.”
“Again, I don’t understand—”
“Gabbie is a type two diabetic. You know this. That would make her high-risk for certain cases where an OB-GYN would be required. You’re a smart girl, Catty, you can figure this out.”
For a second, Catherine’s mind blanked.
Then, a realization formed all at once.
She choked on the bite of bagel she tried to swallow from the shock of what she now understood. Michel, not even thinking about it, reached over and smacked her back hard. The bite slid painfully down her throat.
Catherine took a deep breath. “Oh, my God. Really?”
Michel stayed quiet.
She looked at her brother. “Really?”
He shrugged.
“Michel.”
Her brother cracked a smile.
Catherine got on her knees on the couch, grabbed her brother’s face, and made him look at her. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Two things,” he said, raising his fingers for her to see.
“What?”
“It’s very early. She’s only five weeks pregnant today.”
Catherine nodded. “Okay. Wait, wasn’t she drinking wine at supper a while back?”
Michel made a face. “Don’t mention that to her, okay? She’s already freaked out about a single glass of wine, Catty. She doesn’t need someone else reminding her that she had a drink before she even knew.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“And you can’t blab the news to everyone until we’re ready to,” he finished.
“Okay!” Catherine, uncaring how her brother felt about it, pulled him in to kiss his forehead. “I am so excited.”
Michel shook his head when she finally let him go. “You’re terrible. I shouldn’t have even told you. Ma says you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”
Catherine scoffed. “My whole life has been a secret to them, so. What the fuck do they know?”
She settled back into the couch with a smile, and feeling happier than she had earlier with her meditating.
“Imagine all the shopping I can do for the baby,” she said more to herself than her brother. “Oh, and if it’s a girl. A girl, Michel. Dresses and shoes. Headbands and—”
“Okay, now you’re going into the baby’s sex, and we haven’t even heard a heartbeat yet. Relax, Catherine.”
“But babies are the best.”
As long as it wasn’t her having the baby, that was.
Catherine wasn’t ready for that.
Michel groaned and glared up at the ceiling. “I swear, this is going to be the next eight months of my life with all you women.”
“You know, if you learned how to not be such a moody asshole, you might like the way we women are with this stuff.”
“Doubt it.”
“Live in your sad bubble, then,” Catherine replied with a flick of her fingers.
“Enough about me
. Your turn, little sister.”
Catherine pulled the container holding the cheese omelet, and a plastic fork resting at the bottom of the bag. “What about me?”
“I had lunch with Andino the other day,” Michel said.
“Uh-huh.” Catherine was more interested in the omelet than playing word games with her brother. “So?”
“His guy was there, too. Jordy.”
Catherine stiffened. “Oh?”
“He’s the enforcer that looks after you sometimes, right?”
“Well, he follows me around,” Catherine replied, “but I wouldn’t say he looks after me.”
Mostly, Jordy was for show. Dante wanted a man on his daughter to keep her safe, given their family’s business and the nature of it. Catherine didn’t want an enforcer following her around and reporting back to her dad about the things she did, especially the hustling.
Andino found a happy medium. Jordy. An enforcer for Andino’s crew kept watch after Catherine, but never followed her inside venues. Since he worked for Andino, he understood some of the business Catherine had with her cousin needed to be kept quiet.
It worked.
Catherine was satisfied.
Dante’s concern was satisfied.
That was the end of it.
“What about Jordy?” Catherine asked.
“He mentioned to Andino that he saw you skip out from a club a while back with Cross Donati,” her brother said. “Into his car, to his place … left in the morning, I guess.”
Catherine scowled. “No one’s business but mine, Michel.”
“Were you working … or?”
Michel knew about Catherine’s dealing, although he didn’t agree with her choice to keep it quiet to their parents. He stopped pressing her on the issue, though. She was grateful.
“Yeah, I got a call, went in, and Cross happened to be there.”
“So you hooked up with the guy, or what?”
“I mean, decide for yourself with the info you know about what you think might have happened.” Catherine waved a hand high, adding, “I’m not filling in blanks for you.”
“Catty—”
“It’s my life, Michel. I can do what I want with it, including who I decide to do. All right?”
“Sure, but it’s kind of worrisome, too. The last time you got yourself wrapped up in that guy, bad shit happened, Catherine.”
“That wasn’t his fault, Michel.”
“No, I understand all of that. I just mean you might want to let Dad know that you’re seeing Cross again so that he doesn’t have to hear it from someone else first. Give him a heads up, and that way he can have his feelings about it or whatever.”
“No need.”
Michel frowned. “What, why?”
“I’m not seeing Cross. There’s nothing to tell.”
“Still … you know how this family is, Catty. Word travels about things. People fill in those blanks all on their own. Is that what you want, for Dad to assume he knows what’s going on, and not what actually is?”
Catherine huffed under her breath. “I said there’s nothing to tell.”
“Yet.”
“Michel.”
Her brother tossed his hands up. “I’m just saying, but hey, you do you.”
She would.
She always had.
Catherine shifted the messenger bag on her shoulder, and tried to resituate the weight. It wasn’t even that heavy with only her laptop and a text book inside, but it felt like it for some reason. Heading for the parking lot where she had parked her Lexus, she ignored the slight bite of chill in the wind.
Winter was on its way.
Fall hadn’t even gotten started yet.
Catherine was careful not to step in the wet leaves scattered in piles on the sidewalk. She didn’t want to ruin her suede boots, or bring that mess into her new car. Despite how much she had loved her old Lexus, it needed an upgrade the year before. She finally broke down and got a new one using funds from her trust.
Black matte was out.
White shine was in.
Catherine pulled the keys from her bag and lifted her head when she hit the unlock button on the fob. Her gaze went to her car at the other side of the parking lot, and she froze in her steps. The man leaning against her white Lexus was not who she expected to see.
Cross had forgone the suit and shined leather shoes from their last couple of encounters. Instead, he was wearing a much more familiar outfit. One she used to love on him.
Dark wash jeans. Faded band Tee. Leather jacket. Doc Martens.
Black, on black, on black, on fucking black.
Dark, like his gaze leveling on hers. Sexy, like the way his lips curved at the edges knowingly. Challenging, like his head tilting sideways as if to dare her to come closer.
His clothes. His personality. His desires. His behavior. His looks.
All dark.
Black as sin.
It fit him far too well.
Catherine was determined not to let the sight of Cross set her off balance too much. It had only been two weeks since they hooked up, after all. He could have contacted her, if he had a problem with her skipping out on him.
She didn’t even meet his gaze as she approached her car. Opening the driver’s door, she tossed her bag inside to the passenger seat, and closed it back up.
“What, did you pick up a couple classes at the college?” she asked.
Cross folded his arms over his chest. “No.”
“Then, I guess you don’t really have any reason to be here, do you?”
“None except you,” he replied just as fast.
Catherine tightened her tweed jacket in an effort to keep the heat traveling through her body from escaping. It drove her insane how just being near this man could still make her feel a million and one things. He was every single reason why no other male that showed her any interest could actually keep her attention.
It was sad, really.
“I’ve got a phone,” Catherine said.
Cross smirked, his sin-black eyes traveling over her form. Down to the suede boots she wore, to the leather wrapped choker on her throat. “This needed a more face-to-face conversation.”
“It’s been two weeks, Cross. What conversation have you sat on this long?”
“Trust me, it’s only been two weeks because I didn’t have a choice.”
Catherine frowned. “Pardon?”
“I got a call the morning after you came home with me. I had to make a trip to Chicago, and then a drive up through Maine and into Canada to deliver some guns while I was there. I didn’t intend to have that job come up this early, as far as that goes.”
“Oh,” she said softly.
That probably explained why he hadn’t called.
Catherine wasn’t stupid. She remembered how Cross kept off phones when he was running guns. Mostly for safety reasons.
“To be fair, I also didn’t intend to wake up that morning and find you gone, either.”
She looked anywhere but at Cross. “Yeah, well …”
“That was a shitty move, Catty.”
“Cross—”
“A really shitty move.”
She sighed. “For who, you or me? We hooked up, and that was it. It wasn’t supposed to be more than that. I let you know from the jump what I expected.”
“Then you should have left the night before when you were done getting your fill, babe. Not after you crawled into bed with me, and used me as a fucking pillow.”
Ouch.
Cross’s unspoken accusation hurt like hell. Catherine’s hackles rose for the occasion, ready to shove her walls up, and refuse to let him in. It was her best defense. She didn’t know how to do anything different.
“Definitely not after you woke me up in the middle of the night to climb on for another ride,” Cross added lower. “And the note was a nice touch, too. Twist the knife after you drive it in deep, right?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be anything,” she said
again.
“Except it was, Catty. Without all the conversation and shit you didn’t want to deal with, you still let it be something. It’s familiar, right? You and I like that …” He whistled low, smirking bitterly. “It’s too familiar for you to resist, and so you didn’t. The thing is that I don’t want you fucking with me like that, either.”
She didn’t want to have this chat with him.
She didn’t want him pointing out her wrongs.
She didn’t want to know she hurt him at all.
“You know what,” Catherine said, shaking her head, “I’m done with whatever this is, Cross.”
Catherine turned around, and grabbed for the driver’s door of her car. Cross was quicker. His grip snagged her arm tight in his hand, stopping her entirely. Her stare found his, and she could plainly see every ounce of his anger and sadness swirling in his eyes. His handsome face—all those beautiful, hard lines—didn’t give away a thing. Not his feelings, or anything else, for that matter. His eyes couldn’t hide it at all.
“Don’t you think you at least owe me an actual conversation, Catherine?”
The thin thread of control Catherine had been able to maintain snapped just like that. Cross was not the only one between them who had checks to cash where the other person was concerned. He was not the only one with bitterness burrowed deep into his heart. He was not the only one who hurt.
Catherine jerked out of his hold with a glare. “I owe you fucking nothing.”
Cross straightened. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard what I said. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Catherine, come on.”
“No, it’s my turn now. You listen.” Catherine poked him right in the middle of his chest and said, “I wasn’t the first one between us to skip out on the other one, Cross, and don’t you ever forget it. After the way you left me high and dry, I think you can deal with waking up alone, asshole.”
His brow furrowed. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about!”
Her raised voice did nothing to him.
He kept staring hard at her.
“No, I don’t,” he said, his jaw clenching, “but go ahead and explain. Seems this is the only way you’re ever going to talk to me, Catty.”