Page 12 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

Not at the moment, anyway.

Cross didn’t say that out loud.

“All teenage boys are the same,” Dante replied. “And they all think with the same head. We both know it’s not the one on your shoulders.”

Whatever.

Cross glanced around, taking in the strange room again. “We couldn’t have had this conversation somewhere a little less cement-y? Like an office, or something? Pretty sure you could have said the same things to me.”

“Mmm, sure,” Dante said, smiling in that cold way again. “Except this room is the only room in the house with twelve-inch thick concrete walls, and a six-inch thick metal door. No one can hear a thing in here, Cross. You could be standing right outside of the door, and hear nothing inside.”

Dante laughed, and pointed at the wall behind Cross, saying, “And that wall right there? Behind that wall is my wife’s wine cellar. The east wall? A storage room. Useless rooms, really. We don’t use them, and guests certainly aren’t allowed inside them. However, even if they could get inside them, they still wouldn’t hear you screaming in here. Get me?”

Cross swallowed the nerves building in his throat. “Yeah, I got you.”

“Let me make something clear between us, Cross.” Dante folded his arms over his chest, and relaxed in the chair. “I don’t for one second think that my daughter is old enough to be dating anyone, but certainly not a boy like you.”

“What kind of boy am I?”

Dante pursed his lips, and blew out a heavy sigh. “A boy that gets to grow up a little faster than other boys. Fair?”

“Sure.”

“However, my wife thinks Catherine can make her own choices, and so, you are one of those choices.”

“Not such a bad choice, considering.”

Dante hummed under his breath. “That depends on who you ask.”

“Nobody asked—I just said it.”

“You really don’t have an understanding of respect or fear, do you?”

Cross shrugged. “I understand both.”

“Then do you understand how to put them to use? Because now would be a great time to start working on that.”

“I know the only kind of respect that fear breeds is contempt.”

Dante tipped his head to the side. “That so?”

“That’s what my step-father always says.”

“Is that why he raises you with so little rules and boundaries that you don’t understand the concept of respecting him, or giving respect when a man like me asks for it?”

Cross matched Dante’s posture with his arms folded over his chest, and leaned back in the chair. “Why do you assume I don’t respect Calisto?”

“I think his methods of parenting are a little lax, and it has led to a young man that is very exasperating. You, I mean.”

“That’s funny.”

“What is?”

“That you think that,” Cross said, smirking. “I respect my step-father more than anyone. Not quite as much as my ma, but … Italians, you know.”

Dante let out another one of those harsh sighs. “Your father said you had something to ask me, Cross. Go ahead and do so.”

Ah, yeah.