"Well, it'd just be unfortunate for our families to be fighting over something as petty as a wife, that's all. Especially one like Catrina."

"Wives aren't a petty thing, certainly not mine."

Cat poked her husband's shoulder playfully. "That's not what you said last night."

"Shush," Dante murmured without even passing her a look.

She pouted, but quieted like he told her to.

"They can certainly be petty things," Dante continued, shrugging. "I mean, look at yours."

Carl coughed on a swallow of his drink. "I beg your pardon?"

Dante straightened in the booth. "It's like this. If you're going to take cheap shots at my wife, regardless of whether she's here or not, simply because she's a woman in a profession you think should belong to a man, then I don't mind taking a hit or two at yours."

"I never said-"

"You don't have to, Carl. Your attitude is more than enough."

Carl scowled. "Your father would be terribly ashamed of your attitude, Dante."

Dante matched the man's expression with a cold scoff. "My father isn't here, and he's not running the show anymore. You'll do damn well to remember that from here on out."

The conversation dulled after that to practically nothing at all. Much to Cat's surprise, Dante turned his attention to her once the food was served to the table. Instead of ignoring her silly notions like before, he fed into them, including feeding her tiny bites of food. Cat played along with his game, smiling demurely when his fingers ticked under her chin in a sweet gesture or even when he kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Well," Carl drawled, bringing Dante's focus back to the table and off Cat, "... I'm glad you're aware of my disapproval on your wife. Or at the very least, your willingness to allow her to mingle in business. Our families have worked together-we still do in some aspects-on many things, Dante. I will not have a woman infiltrating my men."

"Why? Scared that her womanly ways might corrupt your men?" Dante asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "She doesn't have a bag of fucking pussy dust she's tossing around, asshole. She's just a woman, one that happens to be very good at her job. You don't have to approve. It's not your family."

Cat barely held back her snort. Her respect for Dante climbed a notch or two.

Anger flashed in Carl's eyes. "Cosa Nostra doesn't allow women in."

"She's not in; she's providing a source of revenue. It's not the same thing."

Before the man could respond, Dante's phone started ringing in his pocket. He pulled the device out, checked the caller ID and frowned.

"I have to take this." Dante passed Cat a look. "You'll be okay for a minute, yeah?"

"Sure, hon."

Dante left the booth as Felicia excused herself to the ladies room. That left Cat alone at the table with Carl. The way he stared her up and down had her skin crawling. Without a word, he slid down the booth until they were side by side.

"Tell me, sweetheart, what's a beautiful thing like you doing messing around with a man like Dante Marcello?"

Cat smiled. "Is he all that different from you?"

"Well, that depends on how you look at it. They say age makes all the difference to experience."

Cat disagreed. Carl had at least thirty-years on her husband, an aging body with extra weight he could afford to lose, and a creep factor that reminded Cat of his son she met months ago.

When his hand slid onto her knee and moved higher, Cat's role playing was done. She removed his hand with a snap, slamming the appendage into his chest before he could react. At the same time, she pulled her favorite knife from the sheath at her inner thigh. Cat didn't have to move a whole lot in the booth to make her point. She simply turned enough to hide her motions under the table and drove the edge of the blade into his groin as her fingernails dug into his throat. No need to scare the poor restaurant goers.

Cat's accent was back as she whispered, "Very nice to meet you, Carl Calabrese. If you put your hands on my body again, I will make sure my husband gets the pleasure of cutting them off before he shoves them straight up your ass."

Carl choked on nothing as Cat drove her knife harder into his slacks. "Shit-"

"Seems to me, your son's behavior is a learned trait. One he clearly picked up from you. And here I was thinking Cosa Nostra men knew how to properly treat a woman. Don't worry, I'm not offended at your disapproval of me, or even your disgusting character, because we both know the truth, don't we?"

"You little bitch," he spat.

"That truth, Carl ... is how appallingly intimidated you are by me."

"And you should be," Dante said from behind Cat. "Let him go before someone walks around the partition and sees, dolcezza."

Reluctantly, as she was quite enjoying the shock and fear in Carl's eyes, Cat released the man. She slid out of the booth, unafraid he might come back on her. Dante reached inside his suit jacket and openly pulled out a brick of the cocaine Cat had given him earlier for the sit-down. He tossed the brick to the table before leaning over it and grabbing on Carl's tie.

Dante yanked the man forward until he was leaning over the table as well and they were face to face. "That right there is grade-A blow supplied by my wife who you so easily dismiss because she is a woman. It comes cut with nothing, and because of the cheap cost to import it, the selling price is enough to have it flying off the streets."

"What is your point?" Carl wheezed.

"Take the blow and run with it," Dante ground out, his fist grasping tighter to the man's tie. "I'll even give you and the fucking Donati family-because I know those bastards are in a fit about Catrina, too-all the contacts they need to keep a good supply on hand."

Carl coughed on his laughter. "What is this, Dante?"

"I'll give you access to this, and I'll even overlook your disgraceful actions tonight and your behavior toward my wife ..."

"For what?"

"For your word at the Commission and the promise you will never speak out against my wife again, not in business or privately. Is that understood?"

"I-"

"Let me make myself very clear," Dante said, not relenting his hold for a second. "If you refuse any of this, I will tear through your streets and rid New York of your name in a week. And if you think I can't get away with it or that I don't have the power to see it through, go on and test me."

"You have my word," Carl said low.

Dante smiled a cruel sight. "Good."

"Bello," Cat said, tapping her heel to the floor.

Dante let the man go and stood, fixing his jacket. "Yes, Cat?"

"I want a drink."

"Let's go to the restaurant bar, Amore. I hear they make those apple martini things you like pretty damn well." Dante gave Carl a single nod. "We'll be off, Carl. What my wife wants, she gets. Have a good night."

Dante's hands slid into Cat's hair as the bartender readied their drinks. She let him pull the awful bun out, shaking her hair around her shoulders to reset the curls. Laughing all the while, Dante held out a napkin for her to spit the gum into.

"Never wear your hair like that again, kitten."

Cat hid the way the pet name reminded her of their wedding night, but barely. "It's not really my style, anyway."

"Mmm, I like your curls down."

"I know."

"You were fucking perfect," he said, smiling wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'd have kept it going, but he crossed a line when he tried to feel me up."

"I don't expect you to take any kind of shit from a man just because he's made in the family or even a boss, for that matter. Stand your ground, Catrina. Always."

"You know I will," she replied.

Dante chuckled. "Of course."

Cat fell into easy conversation with her husband, almost like they were old friends. Their quiet laughter filled the bar as they chatted and drank. A sense of comfort seeped into Cat's blood steam the longer they sat there together.

"Do you think we'll have to do this again for the Donati family?" Cat asked.

Dante shook his head, putting his whiskey glass to the bar top. "No, they're much easier to handle than the Calabrese family and smarter, too. Carl will pass along the word, and we'll get confirmation of their agreement, but little else."

"Good. I know you're worried about the Commission."

What Dante did explain of the upcoming meeting in a couple of months made her involvement in business tricky for her husband. This dinner tonight had been one more duck lining up in their favor.

"It'll be fine. Drink, bella."

Cat did, slipping back into conversation with Dante about other things easily. While they talked, she kept her eye on the restaurant floor, watching the guests coming in and out and being directed to their tables by the Maitre'D.

Finally, someone Cat recognized and had been waiting for was escorted to one of the semi-private tables near the back of the restaurant. She wasn't sure if the man had seen her, but she was able to catch a glimpse of his profile as he sat down at his table.

Cat placed her hand to Dante's wrist, drawing him from his thoughts. "Yeah?"

"You weren't the only one with business here tonight, Dante. And now I have to go take care of it."

His brow furrowed. "You're going to have to explain that, Cat."

She pointed out her client at the back. The recognition came to Dante's eyes almost instantly.

"I had an ulterior motive for asking to choose the restaurant tonight, you see. I knew he was going to be in town and this is how most of our meetings usually go. In a public, but private place, a quick meeting, and then a goodbye until the next time."

Dante still seemed stunned. "That's ..."

"Well, his father did just win a second term," Cat said offhandedly. "I'm surprised his men in black aren't on him like white on rice tonight. They're probably all over the outside. You know how the Secret Service is."

"The President's son, Cat, really?" Dante forced out. "Don't you think that's a little like juggling fire?"

"Not all of my clients are in that book, Dante. For obvious reasons like Travis Johnston's delicate situation."

"The Presi-"

"Yes, and I have to go. The longer I leave him waiting, the more likely someone is to really take notice of his presence and our exchange. I'll be right back."

Dante nodded and Cat left the bar. She crossed the room quickly with her bag in hand, smiling when her oncoming presence caught Travis' eye. The man stood, ever the gentleman, at her appearance.

"Don't you look good, Queen," Travis greeted.

"Smooth talker. We both know I always look like this."

Travis laughed. "Even in the midst of sleep, hmm?"

"So the rumor goes."

Looking over her shoulder, Travis said, "I noticed you had a man with you. I never knew you to bring along guests, Queen."

"Catrina," Cat said softly. "Tonight, you can call me Catrina."

Travis' cheery smile fell. "What is this?"

Cat placed her bag under the table. She'd already removed her personal effects earlier from it. "Take it to the bathroom and you'll find the brick inside. Same amount as always."

"Cat-"

"That man is my husband," Catrina interrupted quietly.

Travis passed another look in Dante's direction. "He looks familiar."

"He should. He is Dante Marcello."

Instinctively, Travis took a step back from Cat. She expected that subconscious reaction to the news of her being married to a man who was well known in New York, not to mention his involvement with Cosa Nostra.

"Catrina," Travis said, his words a harsh, angry whisper. "You're putting me in a world of dan-"

"I haven't put you in any more danger of being seen than I ever have, trust me. I would never do that, but I'm aware my position as that man's wife absolutely puts me in a spotlight, now."

Because of that, she would lose client after client. Just like Travis.

It was worth it, though.

"There's a contact in the bag, Travis," Cat said. "Ask for Gaetano. He will direct you to a girl who will take my place with no one any wiser."