Page 133 of Unruly

Her husband smiled faintly. “A place in the city—broken down, abandoned. Owned by an Irish family that’s been friends with my father since forever. It’s basically used as a private prison, or torture chamber. Really depends on what your need is at the moment.”

Catherine’s stomach turned; not for Timur, but at just the idea. “Oh.”

“I think it’ll be a while before Zeke is around,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to just … let him work his anger out.”

“Think he’s due it?”

Cross cleared his throat. “Yeah, babe, I do. I mean, if it were you, I’d strip the fucker of his bones one by one.”

“It was me once.”

“Yeah, but I was too young and didn’t appreciate the work that went into good torture. I’ve grown up since then.”

Catherine couldn’t help herself when she laughed. “That’s terrible.”

“Still true.”

“What comes next?” Catherine asked.

“Nothing, Catty.”

Wrong.

“There’s always something, Cross.”

Cross frowned, and reached for her. In a blink, she found herself wrapped happily in his embrace. She tucked her arms against his chest, and buried her face into his body. Cross’s arms tightened around her frame as he rested his chin on top of her head.

His familiar scent and love wrapped around her like a cocoon of safety without him even needing to say a thing. Catherine soaked it up for as long as she could. Sometimes, she found herself wishing they could have more of these kinds of quiet, loving moments. It seemed they never had the time.

Their world was too busy.

The next uproar was coming.

Restless hearts.

Demanding lives.

Unruly love.

Still, sometimes, they had this, too.

So yeah, she soaked it up.

“I was thinking a shower might be in order for me,” her husband murmured, “but if you want to just head to bed, we can do that, too.”

“Have a shower. I’ll still be up waiting on you.”

“Perfetto.”

With one more kiss to the top of her head, Cross let Catherine go. She hugged herself in an effort to get back some of that warmth she had felt from Cross, but it wasn’t nearly enough. She settled on making a snack until she could crawl under soft sheets with her husband.

Catherine wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Cross found her again. Long enough for her to eat a sandwich, and then wander the halls. She came to a stop in front of the empty spare bedroom across from the master bedroom.

White, bare walls. Cold, natural wood floors. High ceilings. Brushed metal light fixtures. It certainly wasn’t anything to look at.