Page 16 of Cross + Catherine: The Companion

“Yeah, okay.” Dante scrubbed a hand down over his face, and glanced away. “It’s a lot about him, though.”

“The anger, you mean?”

“That kid, Lucian, he’s so fucking disrespectful. He doesn’t get the fire he plays with, you know what I mean? His father just lets him do whatever the hell he wants, and now he’s this arrogant little shit that could probably use today to knock him down a peg or two.”

“But mostly it’s because Catherine’s intimate with him.”

Dante shrugged.

He was done with the façade.

“Not every teenager can be raised the same way, and parents can’t expect the same result,” Lucian said. “Look at me with John—Giovanni with Andino. You and Michel. All three of us have taken entirely different approaches with our sons, and most of us have come out with similar respectful, decent young men.”

Dante eyed Lucian. “We both know why John is a special case, and why he’s a little difficult.”

“His Bipolar disorder doesn’t always give him a pass, Dante.”

“No, I know, I just meant … No, I was giving him a pass.”

“Don’t do that with my son. It will not help him to excuse some of his behavior.” Lucian folded his arms over his chest, adding, “But look at Andino. He was raised with little to no rules, and Gio let him run and do whatever the hell he wanted. Maybe because that’s what Gio knew he needed way back when—time to figure out his shit, and the freedom to do it without judgment.”

“I don’t think Cross and Calisto Donati are the same as Andino and Giovanni.”

“Except you don’t know that, and Cross is not your son, Dante. You should allow Calisto the same respect you have given to Gio or me with our boys—take a step back, and mind your business.”

Dante might have been the boss of their family, but he still—for the most part—allowed his brothers to speak openly and freely about anything they wanted with him. Forcing them to hold their opinions back had never done him any good.

Plus, it just wasn’t them.

They wouldn’t be his brothers.

“Still want to scare him a little bit,” Dante said. “I’m still kind of pissed.”

Lucian nodded. “All right.”

His brother pulled out a gun, and waved it. “Since you don’t keep one on you a lot of the time, you can use mine. When I hand it over, it’ll be empty of bullets.”

Dante cocked a brow. “Hmm.”

“Remember, though, he is just a young man. Same as we were—we made stupid decisions, too. Slept with girls whose fathers hated us. Acted recklessly. Did dumb things. Why do you expect him to be different?”

“Because it’s my daughter.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Lucian waved a finger at his temple as if to call Dante crazy. “You’ve got a while before they get here. Go grab a drink at the bar down the street or something.”

“Really?”

“It might take the edge off.”

Dante doubted it, but he went anyway.

Dante strolled across the restaurant with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his slacks. The drink hadn’t really helped to take the edge off, but his rage had ebbed.

A bit, not a lot.

It likely wouldn’t help.

Outside the business, he had seen Calisto’s SUV parked. At least his guests of honor had finally made it. One half of Dante had his mind on what he was doing right now, and another part was on the talk he planned to have with his daughter when he got home.