Page 79 of Unholy Union
Then I let out the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. “Well, I’m not surprised that’s how your father feels about me.”
Cato pats the empty space beside him on the sofa. “Come here.”
I cross the room and sink down beside him, the heat from his body immediately seeping into my side as he shifts to accommodate me. His complexion’s pale even compared to his fresh bandages, his breathing uneven.
Yet he somehow still projects a level of strength.
“Don’t take it personally,” he says. “My father… he’s very old school. In the worst ways.”
I glance over at him, surprised by the trace of apology in his voice.
“He doesn’t have high opinions of women,” Cato continues. “Never has. Why do you think my sister chose college abroad? Or why my mother’s constantly off at spa retreats? He doesn’t even think I should’ve hired Harper as my assistant at the company. Thinks she’s not competent enough for the role yet she has a business degree from Wharton. He sees women as ornaments, not people.”
I nod, accepting his explanation.
I appreciate that he’s trying. That he even said anything at all.
It’s the first time I’ve seen this side of him—something that’s more on the reflective, sympathetic side.
There’s no posturing. No devilish smirk or cruel remark designed to make me squirm. Just a man with a stitched-up shoulder, trying to soften his father’s contempt.
And it works.
We sit like this for a while, pressed together on the sofa. His arm drapes loosely across the back of the sofa. I nestle in a little closer. His body is warm and relaxed against mine, his head beginning to tilt as sleep creeps in.
The pain meds must be taking hold.
When his eyes finally slip closed, I ease him down gently, guiding him to lie across the cushions with his head settling in my lap.
His weight is heavy, but I don’t mind. My fingers card through his hair, the dark strands soft against my skin.
His lashes flutter, then eventually go still.
I watch him for a long time as he sleeps, his expression finally calm and unguarded. Almost boyish in its vulnerability.
A small kernel of warmth spreads inside me.
Maybe being married to Cato Valente isn’t so bad after all.
Chapter 17
Cato
Enemy - Imagine Dragons featuring JID
The saying goes that the only person you can trust in this life is yourself.
After the last couple weeks, I’m inclined to agree. Two assassination attempts and I still don’t know who gave the order. Both could’ve been for Sabrina, but Lazaro thinks they assumed it was me riding in the backseat on that day.
It doesn’t matter either way. I don’t tolerate disrespect. I sure as hell don’t tolerate attempts made on my life or my wife’s.
Which is why I’m determined to get to the bottom of what in the fuck’s going on.
The Falcos are the first ones under the microscope. Caporegime Rudy Mancini’s accepted my request for a sit-down at La Rocca Trattoria.
The small red brick restaurant has been on the corner of Mulberry and Grand for generations, serving some of the best Italian food outside of Italy itself.
But it’s also served as the place where real power has changed hands. Where truces have been made and wars have been declared.
