Page 13 of Unruly

“I thought Daddy said you had to put the clicky shoes away until it gets warmer.”

Cece’s gaze narrowed. “My clicky shoes, Ma.”

“I know, but—”

“Noes to Daddy!”

Well, then …

Chuckles echoed from the other side of her Four Seasons Firenze hotel room. They matched the sound of her father’s chuckles on the tablet.

“Cece,” Catherine said, desperately trying to hold back her own laughter, “it’s very cold and those shoes are not warm on your feet.”

Serious as could be, Cece learned in close so all Catherine could see was her daughter’s one eyeball and said, “Noes to Daddy.”

Their child was absolutely them all over again. Cross’s attitude, and Catherine’s swagger. She would wear a leather jacket overtop a pink dress in her little heels, but good God, don’t touch her hair. She was the perfect mixture of their characters and behaviors. She took some of her father’s odd quirks, and her mother’s outgoing personality. She looked like Catherine with just enough of Cross to color her up.

No one ever missed a chance to remind them that they had gotten a child just as difficult, wild, and wonderful as they had been. Times a million, of course.

Cece picked up the tablet, and spun around.

Catherine tried to discern where her daughter was, but the dizzying speed made it difficult to see anything. She assumed they were at her parents’ home in Amityville. Except … Catherine thought she saw a port window.

Like on a plane.

“Where are you, Cece?”

“With Grandpapa Dante.”

“Yes, but where.”

“Here.”

“Cece—”

“Snack time,” Dante said quickly, and loudly, in the background. The tablet was snatched from her daughter’s hand at the same time Cece let out a peal of giggles high enough to break glass. Dante’s face came back into view before he told his daughter, “Sorry, Catty. We’ll call back later, okay?”

“Wait, where are you, Daddy?”

“Got to go, reginella. Cat, I know you’re listening—ti amo, mia cara bella.”

Just like that, her father hung up the call.

Catherine tossed the tablet to the bedspread and shot her mother a look. “Was that as strange to you as it was to me?”

Catrina didn’t look up from her magazine. “What do you mean?”

“They looked like they were on a plane.”

“How would I know, Catty? I wasn’t talking with her on the screen.”

Deciding she was getting nowhere with her mother on that line of questioning, Catherine picked up her phone from the nightstand and checked the screen. Still, no calls or messages from Cross. She dialed his number, and put it to her ear, but it only rang through to voicemail. She shot off one more text asking what the hell was up, but who knew if she would even get a response.

“Still nothing?” Catrina asked.

Catherine shrugged. “No, he’s not answering anything.”

“Busy, maybe.”