Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 996(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Catrina didn’t move an inch. “I can’t believe you.”
“Then we’re in very similar boats, sweetheart.”
“You’re impossible. I was fine.”
“Sit down,” Dante said, his tone darkening.
Catrina did as she was told, thankfully.
“Where is Michel?” she asked.
“With my mother.”
“Your brothers are coming back.”
“Good,” Dante said, “then they’ve done their jobs and escorted your men off the property for the evening without trouble. Now, I just have to get you home as well.”
If stares could kill, Dante would be dead.
“I have work to do,” Cat said, frustration thick in her voice.
“I ended that when I had your men escorted out, or did you miss that? You’ve always been a quick woman. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Sometimes, you make it difficult to return the favor.”
So be it.
“Easy or hard, Cat, it’s your choice.”
She made it easy ...
When he picked her up and carried her out.
*
Dante stood in the doorway of the master bath, watching his wife draw a bath. “Are you still angry with me?”
It’d been a week since the club incident. Catrina didn’t say more than two words to Dante the entire week.
Those words?
Fuck and you.
Dante also slept on the couch.
Worth it.
“Catrina,” Dante said, still waiting for his little queen to even grace him with her attention.
Despite feeling justified in his actions, the silence and anger was starting to eat away at him. He adored his wife—she was everything to him. He didn’t like to fight with her, especially because fighting with Catrina was so emotionally taxing, it could rival just about anything, including death.
“Yes,” Catrina said quietly, “I’m angry with you, bello. Still.”
“I’m not going to apologize.”
Catrina dropped the silk robe she wore, exposing her nakedness beneath. Dante’s mouth went dry at the sight of his wife’s skin and curves. Her body was a living piece of art. Fucking perfection right there in flesh and bones.
Problem was, with no talking came no fucking.
Not even angry fucking.
That was the best kind, too.
“Cat,” Dante said, her name coming out heady and thick.
Catrina didn’t say a thing as she climbed in the tub and sunk beneath the bubbles. “Sì?”
Goddamn it.
“Why are you angry?” he asked, trying to tamper down his lust. It didn’t help that his cock was hardening under his slacks as his wife lifted her bare legs from the water to rest them on the edge of the tub, criss-crossed. Catrina’s legs were one of her best features. She knew it, too. “We agreed on no business during the pregnancy, Catrina.”
“No one else knows about the pregnancy outside of our close family.”
“Your point?”
She ignored his question.
“Or rather, they didn’t until the other night,” Catrina continued, frowning. “It’s hard enough that I have a husband and a child, Dante. Do you realize how they look at me sometimes?”
“No,” he admitted.
“It’s not like your business. Being a Queen Pin isn’t like being a Don, bello. It’s difficult. My ability to keep people under control depends on their level of respect and fear of the person holding the highest position. And while being a wife and mother is a wonderful and amazing thing, it’s also a weakness. Lesser—that’s how they feel about me. Like I am the lesser of them. I have—”
“You know that isn’t true,” he interjected quietly.
“—never felt like the lesser person in those situations, bello.”
Dante understood, but his feelings remained the same. “We agreed, Cat. No business.”
“But—”
“This isn’t negotiable, Cat. This isn’t one of those things we’ll fight and fuck out, okay. It isn’t. I don’t ask you for very goddamn much, but I am telling you this. No business.”
With that, he left his beautiful as sin wife, her painted red lips and her sexy legs alone in the bathroom. Even though it practically fucking killed him to do it.
*
Dante closed the door to Michel’s bedroom with a sigh. Fifteen books about trains later and the toddler was finally asleep. Dante loved his son, no doubt about it, but the boy was terribly particular about his naptime routine.
He got that from his type-A mother.
Dante didn’t complain, really.
The smell of something warm and rich floated up from the stairwell. Dante followed the deliciousness to find his wife in the kitchen, sitting at the table. One of Cat’s best dishes happened to be a homemade spaghetti and meatballs with a concoction of spices that could make a person’s mouth water.
Dante’s was no exception.
“This is a surprise,” Dante said from the entryway.
Cat shrugged. “A peace offering.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhmm.”
Dante took note of the fact his wife wore a dress that happened to be one of his very favorites. She must have changed while he was putting their son to bed, because she had been wearing skinny jeans and a blouse earlier. The silver studded heels she wore sent sparkles casting over her ankles and calves.
Sex.
Dante could practically taste it on his tongue.
“Peace offering, huh?” he asked.