Filthy Marcellos: Dante

by Bethany-Kris

  Nothing came.

  Dante had no desire to sit in the office any longer than he had to. “We’ll get back to this shit another day, but for now, the seat is left open.”

  “The crew needs to be handled,” Lucian said. “I can manage some, but not all working under you.”

  “Divide it between the closest capos to the territory,” Dante ordered. “Tribute remains the same. Speaking of tribute, I will see you all at the end of next month. Go drink and wish my father well.”

  Once the men were gone, Dante was quick to ask, “Gio, who was going to object?”

  Giovanni cocked a brow, unfazed. “I don’t think he would have, but I didn’t want to chance it.”

  “Who?”

  “Leo.”

  Lucian sighed harshly, rubbing at his forehead. “We have to consider if he’s going to end up being an issue needing culled.”

  “He’s had a hard-on for me ever since that first tribute when Antony didn’t show up.”

  “I know,” Lucian muttered.

  “And he’s really pissing me off lately with his snide fucking comments, too. I’ll seed a few men into his crew and we’ll go from there,” Gio said.

  Paulie chuckled at Dante’s side. “You left out something important.”

  Dante didn’t think he had. “What?”

  “The ring, my boy.”

  Scowling, Dante picked up his father’s signet Marcello family ring from the desk. He spun it around the tip of his middle finger, considering the jewelry. It was custom for the boss to wear something of this nature as a sign of his place and significance. When made men greeted him, they usually kissed the piece.

  Still, Dante wasn’t sure if he wanted to take the ring on as his own, or not. “It’s my father’s ring.”

  “Yours now,” Paulie corrected gently.

  “Seems you’ve got two new pieces of jewelry to wear,” Lucian said. “All in one day, too.”

  “Shut up with your nonsense, man.”

  Lucian lifted a single shoulder in response, still leaning against the wall like this was any other day for him. Dante wondered how his older brother could be so nonchalant about the entire situation. For him, it felt like a slam in the gut—not necessarily in a bad way, either.

  “It’s tradition for you to take it,” Paulie explained. “Antony wouldn’t have given it up if he wasn’t truly ready to, Dante.”

  “For the older generation, they’re going to expect you to have it on at all times,” Giovanni added, closing the office door. “You know all those ancient fools like Paulie love their traditions.”

  “Watch your mouth, Giovanni. Call me a fool and old one more time and watch what this old fool will do to you.”

  Gio scoffed but wisely chose to stay quiet.

  Dante slid the ring down his finger, the gold clicking against his wedding band. It didn’t feel different, nor did it weigh his hand down physically or symbolically. He needed that. “Just the Commission, now.”

  “With your marriage sealed, you have nothing to worry about,” Paulie assured.

  “Congratulations are in order,” Lucian said, his sly grin making Dante’s own grow. “The Marcellos have a new boss.”

  “And a younger generation of men taking their thrones,” Paulie said, reaching over to slap Dante’s knee. “God save us all.”

  Chapter Seven

  A wisp of relief tumbled through Cat’s heart when she saw her new husband weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She hadn’t known what kind of business he needed to take care of earlier, but the confused expression he wore bothered her before he left. It didn’t help that once he was gone, the guests practically emptied of men. Not to mention, the women whispered amongst themselves like little hens clucking in a barn.

  Dio, Catrina hated women.

  Well, usually. Dante’s sisters-in-law weren’t too bad. They had yet to work her nerves like most females did.

  Cat took the hand Dante offered, letting him draw her in close. His tux jacket was gone, leaving his light gray dress shirt, blush cream vest and tie available for her to admire. The shades of pink suited him well, not that Dante wasn’t handsome enough all on his own. She was glad her new husband hadn’t put up a fight about the colors she chose for the day.

  Dante placed his other hand at the small of Cat’s back as they began to move with the romantic, slow music. Guests moved off the makeshift dancefloor to allow the couple their private first dance, but stayed close enough to watch Cat and Dante move together.

  With Dante’s fingers interwoven with hers while the two moved seamless across the floor to the music, Cat could feel something new on his left hand. A quick check showed a new gold ring on his index finger, glittering beside the gold of his wedding band. The signet in the middle of the ring displayed an eagle overlooking an empire beneath it.

  She recognised the crest immediately as the Marcello’s.

  “What’s this?” Cat asked, letting her finger trace over Dante’s new accessory.

  “I wondered how long that would take you to notice.”

  One of the most important parts of Cat’s job, and the thing that kept her the safest, was being able to notice things. “Are you deflecting my question?”

  “Of course not,” Dante replied, grinning roguishly. “The meeting went well, by the way.”

  “You’re alive, I suppose. Business, huh?”

  “Important business. The Marcellos have a new boss, Cat, and you’re dancing with him.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. How is this for a first dance?”

  “Decent enough, although the night is almost over and you’re terribly late getting it done for the gawkers.”

  “My apologies, dolcezza.”

  “You keep calling me dolcezza, but I don’t think you understand what it means,” Cat said teasingly. “Because if you did, you would know there isn’t a thing about me that’s sweet, bello.”

  Dante winked. “Oh, I think there’s a bit of sweetness down in that black soul of yours somewhere.”

  Cat wasn’t sure if there was anything sweet left in her soul at all. If there was, she hadn’t found it. Emotions never mixed well with her profession and she learned long ago it was better to close that side of her off, slide on the proper mask for the occasion, and give the crowd what they thought they wanted from her.

  How long had she been playing those games, now?

  Years. So many years.

  “What’s wrong, Cat?” Dante asked.

  “Nothing.”

  Cat gave him what she hoped was a sensual smile and enough to distract Dante’s keen attention from her mood to her beauty. Men were ridiculously predictable in that way. All a pretty woman needed to do was focus the man on the particular asset she wanted him admiring, and all other thoughts were lost.

  She should have known better than to try and trick Dante Marcello like she would any other man. Dante was not like all the others, Cat knew.

  “Catrina,” Dante said, a warning darkening his deep tenor. “I thought we agreed not to lie to one another.”

  Cat almost hated the way this man’s voice and attention troubled her in ways she couldn’t quite explain. She was always the one with the upper hand—always. Dante made Cat toe her very carefully constructed line of control. It didn’t help at all that she found him attractive and interesting.

  Men were not interesting to Cat.

  Attractive, sure.

  Interesting, no.

  Dante Marcello had both of those things going for him. Men were pawns to Cat. A means to an end. Cat understood the power of female manipulation better than anyone and used it to her advantage in whatever way possible to reach her goals or meet her needs.

  Cat was finding Dante was not the type of man to be manipulated.

  And that unsettled her.

  “I’m not lying,” Cat finally replied, forcing her demeanor to remain the same and not show her inner turmoil.

  “Omission is the same thing. Why the frown?
You never frown. Glare occasionally, but never frown. Tell me.”

  “You’re an awfully pushy man, Dante.” Cat tapped her manicured nail on his chest, raising her eyebrow in challenge. “I think you’ll find I’m not an easily controlled woman and demands will get you nowhere with me.”

  Dante’s hand holding Cat’s squeezed, his palm at her back pushing her firmly into his muscular form. “Your guiles won’t work on me, Catrina Marcello.”

  Cat met Dante’s gaze, her surprise nearly making her stumble though Dante kept them moving without missing a beat. “I am, aren’t I?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Catrina Marcello.”

  Dante flashed white teeth in a sexy grin. “We were married at eleven this morning at you’re just realizing this now, bella mia?”

  “Well, no.”

  Maybe …

  “Quiet, you,” Cat said, hushing her husband’s chuckles with a single glance. “Not the married part, but my name. You’re the first person to really say it other than the priest this morning.”

  “That’s a damn shame,” Dante murmured. “I think it sounds lovely.”

  Cat pursed her lips. “You would being a man. It’s another way to mark your territory, no?”

  “Keep your nastiness to yourself, Catrina. I’m catching on to your games quicker than you think. When something bothers you, for some reason, you feel the need to revert to your sharp tongue and attitude. That might work on everybody else but it doesn’t have any effect on me.”

  Yes, so Cat was learning.

  “I do think it sounds nice,” Dante added softer, letting Cat spin out from him as the music changed slightly in tempo. He brought her straight back into his arms in a smooth motion. “And since we both know you’re not the kind of woman to be owned, it has little to do with marking my territory, as you put it.”

  Cat’s resolve shook.

  “Tell me why you were sulking, Cat.”

  She couldn’t tell him the truth, not without showing weakness. Nothing was worth a man seeing her cracks. Absolutely nothing.

  Lie, her mind demanded. Lie, lie, lie.

  “Some of these people believe we’re in love,” Cat said, resting her cheek to Dante’s. “They talk as though we’re skipping off into a happily ever after together. Doesn’t that trouble you at all?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because most of them don’t know this is a personal arrangement between you and me. Also, they could be comparing me to my brothers. Both Lucian and Giovanni found their amores quickly and wasted no time getting them down the aisle. Hell, Gio didn’t even tell anyone he was married until Kim showed up on our doorstep.”

  “But still … they expect to see things,” Cat said, shrugging under the weight of her capped sleeved gown. “Intimacy and care, you know.”

  “Love, you mean.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dante’s laughter rumbled. His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, making Cat shiver. “Dolcezza, take a look around you and think about what these people are seeing right now. We’ve danced through two songs already without breaking our attention from one another and the song currently playing is not at all the kind of music made for waltzing. I’m holding you tightly, so very close to me. My mouth is at your ear and the smile you always wear is pressed to my cheek.”

  The slight stubble on Dante’s jaw tickled Cat’s skin as he spoke, waking up her long dormant desires. She pushed the urges down, needing to ignore them.

  “We are talking so low no one else can hear,” he continued, his hand traveling higher to the bare skin of Cat’s back. “You look incredibly beautiful, certainly happy, and maybe even a little more than content in my arms. Trust me when I say, we appear very much in love to these people.”

  Cat swallowed the lump forming in her throat. It was disconcerting the way Dante’s words flowed over her body like thick honey. Dante pulled away from Cat enough to let her see the overly smug smirk he sported. Clearly he knew the effect he had. Green eyes so striking he could quiet a room with a single blink. A body meant to be admired and touched. Confidence and cockiness in the abundance.

  He used it all, too. Much like she did.

  Those walls of Catrina’s slammed back up in an instant.

  “You’re far too attractive for your own good,” Cat said, sighing. “Who is the one playing games, now, Dante?”

  Dante frowned as he regarded her. Had she misjudged his actions? “Life isn’t a chess board, Cat.”

  Wasn’t it?

  She had always been Queen.

  • • •

  Cat cussed a blue streak under her breath, unable to reach the spot between her shoulder blades with the small pair of scissors. She struggled with her reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, trying to maneuver the blades of the scissors at the right spot on her dress to snip the bit of white thread.

  Goddamn Kim and her ridiculous idea to sew the one piece of Cat’s dress that kept it up and all together. If not for the small piece of the lace that connected at her shoulders, the dress would hang limp over her body and not tight like it had.

  “What if the clasp lets go while you’re dancing later?” her new sister-in-law had asked.

  Good safety precaution … Cat’s gaze narrowed in her frustration before she tossed the scissors into the sink. She didn’t want to the ruin the gorgeous dress by missing the few cautiously placed stitches and cutting the lace instead. Despite her marriage being nothing more than a business deal, Cat had wanted to feel some semblance of normalcy on her day. She could have just as easily purchased a simple dress with no fuss and walked down the aisle to say her vows. She could have forgone the decorations and small cake, perhaps even the private reception and dinner afterward.

  But Cat hadn’t wanted to. She was only going to marry once. Even if it wasn’t for love, the day deserved to be remembered with fondness.

  It was bad enough there were so many things she had to go without. Her family, for one. Not that her parents would have come if invited. It hurt but Cat couldn’t allow herself to dwell on it. Her sister … well, that was just impossible.

  Cat huffed, refusing to let her mind wander into those painful thoughts. The day had been good, considering everything, and the last thing she wanted to do was ruin it with all of that nonsense.

  Leaving the bathroom, Cat eyed the hotel room with little interest. The suite had been booked for a week as a gift from her new in-laws. She wasn’t sure if it was Antony and Cecelia’s way of making light of the marriage or showing some form of acceptance or not. The five-star Presidential suite was a bit much what with its two private bedrooms, living and sitting rooms, an entertainment room, and private balcony access. In Cat’s opinion, anyway. Thankfully, the suite did have separate sleeping quarters divided by more than just a single door.

  Someone had given that consideration, at least.

  Cat crossed the room and knocked on Dante’s door, hoping he wasn’t already sleeping. Before she could take a step back, it opened. Dante stood with a phone pressed to his ear, a stern expression marring his features, and his vest and dress shirt completely unbuttoned. His tie hung loose around his neck as if he’d been pulling on it before she interrupted him.

  Dante held up a single finger, silently asking for a moment, but Cat wasn’t paying his request the least bit of attention. No, her gaze was thoroughly stuck on the bare expanse on his chest and abdomen.

  Every well-defined cut of muscle Cat had the pleasure of seeing jumped as Dante took a step back into the room, waving for his wife to follow. She didn’t move. No, Cat was caught like a deer in the headlights admiring the sight in front of her.

  The ink of a tattoo was barely visible on Dante’s chest. What she could make out, Cat liked a lot. She had never been one for tattoos on a man, but the hint of eagle wings caught her attention as he turned and his shirt opened more. The tanned row of abs led from right below Dante’s chest all the way down to the hard chiseled V-shape of his gr
oin. The dress pants he wore were also unbuttoned, showing a peek of black boxer-briefs beneath and a dusting of dark hair that likely led all the down to his …

  Cat caught herself just in time to yank away from those lustful thoughts. Her gaze snapped back up to Dante’s face still showing his frustration. At least he hadn’t noticed her slip.

  Cristo, she had to get a handle on this nonsense.

  “Yeah, well, he can either fuck off with his opinion or have a sit-down about it,” Dante said.

  He waved at Cat once more to come into the room. This time, she did.

  “I don’t care if he doesn’t like me mixing business with a female. I’m not running his family, I’m running ours, Lucian. That means my decisions for the way I do shit doesn’t have to be approved by him, and if he doesn’t like that, he can suck my dick.”

  Cat scoffed, wagging her finger at Dante in mock admonishment for his language. How the man got anything done on the business side of things using words like that, she didn’t understand. Then again, when it came to Cosa Nostra, it was always men yelling back and forth at one another. If a woman was involved, she doubted it would be the same story.

  Dante rolled his eyes. “Whatever, you pass my message along. If he wants to have a meeting about it, we’ll do that. Be sure to let him know Catrina will be there and so should his wife. Maybe they can have a fucking tea party. Good night.”

  The phone was shut off and tossed to the end of the bed, forgotten. While Dante tugged off his tie and vest, tossing them to the bed, too, he said, “You should get out of that dress, Cat. You’ve been in it all damn day.”

  “I’m working on it,” she replied, smiling sardonically. “What’s this about a tea party?”

  Dante slipped out of his dress shirt, letting it fall over the arm of a chair. The eagle tattoo spread across his pectoral muscles was amazing in detail and the only ink she could see on his body. Cat averted her stare from his gorgeous form, not wanting to become distracted again. “It’s nothing. Just the fucking Calabrese family running their mouths. The boss is taking issue with the fact I’m letting a woman in on some of my business while she lets her men run their products in my streets. Apparently you being my wife doesn’t make a difference.”