Page 127 of Always: A Legacy Novel

“Stay where you are,” Calisto said from the front.

Emma turned back, looking to her husband only. “Call me, okay?”

“Yeah, Emmy.”

His mother headed up the walkway without a look back.

“Can I get up front?” Cross asked.

“You can stay where you are for now.”

Calisto put the car in reverse, and backed out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?”

“Right now, and for the very near future, my suggestion is for you to be as quiet as possible, Cross. Actually, it’s not a suggestion at all. It’s a demand, and you better listen to it.”

Shit.

He had more questions, but kept quiet.

Calisto took them into the city, which meant even more driving and no talking. Cross wouldn’t have minded so much, if he wasn’t so damn anxious about what was happening. Something he didn’t know at all.

Cross didn’t recognize the Manhattan restaurant his step-father parked in front of. It didn’t look to be opened, and in fact, seemed like it might be under some kind of renovations if the shaded windows and permits on the front door were any indication.

Calisto got out and hit the window on Cross’s door; a silent demand for him to follow. Outside of the car, his step-father turned to him, expressionless.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” Calisto asked. “When you behave like an adult and are caught, you have adult consequences. Unfortunately for you, when you’re also the heir of a Cosa Nostra Don, and you behave like an adult would with the daughter of another Don, you get these kinds of consequences, Cross. You have to deal with them. I can’t help you.”

Cross didn’t have a response.

He figured Calisto didn’t want one.

Inside the restaurant, covered tables and chairs were piled high in one corner. The floor had been ripped up, and wires hung from the ceiling.

Cross followed behind Calisto, his edginess picking up with every step, until they came to an office toward the back of the business. Calisto knocked once, and the door opened up to expose a man Cross recognized.

Lucian Marcello.

There was something different about Lucian that made the man a little more intimidating than his brothers. Even with gray coloring the hair at his temples, or if a person was lucky enough to get a smile from him, the underboss still radiated coldness.

“Take a seat,” Lucian said, tipping a hand toward a chair in the middle of the room.

“I’d rather stand,” Cross replied.

Lucian sighed, and looked at Cross as though he was a small child testing his patience. “You will sit, or I will make you. You decide, young man.”

Calisto leaned against the far wall of the office, watching Cross with guarded eyes. “You heard him.”

What in the fuck is happening?

Lucian pointed to the hard metal chair once more.

Cross sat his ass down.

The Marcello underboss took a seat perched on the corner of a sheet-covered desk, and gave his attention to the gun he pulled from a holster inside his jacket. Lucian said nothing as he emptied the clip in the gun, counted the bullets, and placed them back in one by one.

Clink. Clink. Clink.