After the Storm

Ch 20: Caterina

The kitchen smells like heaven or what I imagine a slice of it would smell like—freshly brewed coffee and toasted ciabatta bread. I'm perched on a bar stool, nursing a steaming mug of black coffee, my elbows propped on the counter while I nibble on a piece of toast smeared with fig jam. It's bitter and sweet, kinda like life lately. Thank God Vinnie is still dozing in his swing, his little chest rising and falling with each breath. He's the only person who doesn't reek of gunpowder or betrayal.

I take another sip, feeling the warmth slide down my throat, trying not to dwell on the sour taste of unfinished business. Erick's face flashes in my mind, that smug smirk plastered across his punchable features. He's a thorn in my side, a constant reminder of how things can go so wrong within your own bloodline.

Taking another bite of my toast, I let out a sigh. After learning the truth about my mother's death, all I can do is sigh—it keeps me from crying. Crying is a sign of weakness, and right now, weakness is something I can not afford to be.

I shove the last crust of toast into my mouth as Vinnie gives a little stir in his swing. I chew quickly, eyeing him like he's a bomb about to go off. The soft whirr and gentle rocking have kept him snoozing, but with babies, you never know when the peace will shatter.

"Come on, kiddo," I whisper, "Just five more minutes." He obliges, the universe on my side for once, and I use the precious seconds to gulp down the rest of my coffee and finish my toat.

"Damn, girl, will I ever get over how freaking majestic this place is?" Fran breezes into the kitchen, her eyes wide as she takes in the marble countertops and gleaming copper pots hanging overhead.

"Trust me, you're not the only one," I reply, pushing a dark strand of hair behind my ear. "Lex could give Martha Stewart a run for her money."

"He would have died if he lived in our penthouse," Fran chuckles, helping herself to a pastry from the basket on the island. "You never kept the kitchen clean.

"Hey, I feel like if I cook, you should clean," I smirk, watching her elegantly demolish the croissant.

"Girl, please. You would always stop halfway through cooking because you messed up, adding too much salt or using sugar when recipes don't call for it.." She playfully rolls her eyes and then gives me a sidelong glance. "So, spill. How's it been going with operation seduce Lex? He's been back, what, three days now?"

"Ugh, it's like trying to climb Mount Everest in flip-flops," I groan. "But we did bang it out on the first night he was back."

Fran nearly chokes on her croissant, sputtering with laughter. "Oh my God, Cat, you did not just say 'bang it out.'"

"Hey, I call it like I see it." I can't help but laugh, too, despite the mess I'm in. "Let's just say the man hasn't lost his touch."

"Details or it didn't happen," she teases, waggling her eyebrows.

"Keep your panties on, perv. There were sparks, okay? But Lex walls thicker than the fortress surrounding this villa." I take another sip of coffee, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach when I think about that night.

"Sparks, huh?" Fran grins, clearly not fooled by my nonchalance. "Sounds promising. You've melted icebergs before, babe. Lex might be frigid, but he's still a man."

"True," I concede, thinking about the tangled web of family loyalty, betrayal, and revenge that seems to follow me like a shadow. "But melting this iceberg might just drown us both."

"Sweetheart, if anyone can swim in those dangerous waters, it's you." Fran reaches across the table, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Just remember, don't let the bastard get and keep the upper hand."