Page 15 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

"You and your family are under my protection, no matter what," I say. "I will take care of you. I promise. Neither Roberto nor anyone else will lay a hand on them again. Ever."

She trembles beneath my touch. Not in fear—something else. Maybe it's the shock of hearing someone say the words she's waited so many years to hear. Maybe it's hope, or maybe she felt the electric pulse too.

The warmth of her skin lingers in my hands even after I pull away. I should stay cold and distant. But I already know I won't be able to, not with her.

"Grazie mille , " she says softly, her voice catching at the edges.

"Figurati , " I reply—don't mention it—and suddenly, I'm reminded how rarely I use my mother tongue for pleasantries. Italian is for orders, threats, and control. But with her, it sounds… softer.

The longer I sit across from her, the harder it becomes to keep this professional. I've always seen people as categories: assets, liabilities, threats. But she's none of those. She's something else. I just don't know what yet.

I let go of her hands and lean back, forcing distance again, forcing my voice to cool. I still need to interrogate her like the mafia prince I am, not like the man who is attracted to her in so many forbidden ways. "Were there any unusual visitors at the house in the days before Izzy was taken?"

She starts to shake her head, instinctive denial, but I see the flicker in her eyes as a memory rises. "There weren't visitors," she says slowly, "but… There was a fight."

Intrigued, I lean forward. "Go on."

"Three or four days before everything happened. I was walking to my room when I heard shouting between Donna Margarita and Giovanni."

A mother and son fight isn't unusual. Not in our world. But Margarita? That woman doesn't lose control. She controls everyone else. "About what?"

"I couldn't hear everything, but… she was furious. She said, You're going to ruin everything. Giovanni kept insisting he had it under control. Then he said, You're overstepping. This is my house. And she snapped, I made you, don't forget that. "

Interesting. That didn't sound like a worried mother—not that I ever considered Donna Margarita to fit that category—that sounded more like a handler keeping her puppet on script.

"When it ended, he stormed out like a sulking child." Cat shudders. "She came out after, and she was… so eerily calm, almost triumphant. The look on her face… it wasn't maternal, it looked like she was going to kill him."

"Have you heard them fight before?"

She shakes her head. "Not like that. This was so much more… intense."

I probe further. "There are rumors Margarita's the one actually running the Giordano family."

She doesn't hesitate. "I know she is."

Well, well. Look at the little asset that just fell into my lap.

"What else do you know?" I ask.

But then something shifts. Her jaw tightens, and her back straightens. The fear is still there, but it's layered now with resolve. Understanding blooms in her amber eyes—she knows she has something I want.

And she's going to use it.

"I want to talk to my parents," she says. Her voice is quiet but steady. It's not a plea, it's a demand.

I almost smile. Amused, I cross my arms over my chest. "I already promised you I'd take care of them."

"Forgive me," she says, lifting her chin, "but trust is something I can't afford right now, not when it involves my parents."

Goddamn. She's afraid. But she's also refusing to be small. A chuckle moves through my chest. She might be the bravest person I've met in years. I'm not just intrigued by her any longer, I'm impressed. Not many people manage to impress me anymore. Especially not ones that are this young.

"Will you trust me long enough so that we can finish this conversation and then you can call your family, piccola?" I ask, testing her resolve.

Her eyes flicker when I say piccola. She caught the meaning, little one, but doesn't know what to do with it. It's not patronizing. Not from me. It's a promise and a warning wrapped in one.

She studies me for a moment. Weighing her answer like it might change her life. She's not wrong. After a beat, she nods. Barely. But it's there.

"Good," I say. "Then tell me everything else you know about Donna Margarita. I need facts. Patterns. Anything, no matter how unimportant you think it is."

While she's still thinking, I run a hand down my jaw, processing Donna Margarita and the implications.

Most of us have treated her like a relic for the past decade—beautiful, poised, proper.

But she's always had too much sway over Giovanni for my liking.

I always suspected she married her daughter Isabella into the Zanello family to move chess pieces no one else could see.

Ambition runs in her veins, and now it's clear—she's far more dangerous than any of us gave her credit for.

In a way, she's a perfect match for Edoardo—ambitious, calculating, dangerous.

He seized power the moment his father died, riding a wave of chaos.

He was too young, too green. Under normal circumstances, he never would've been accepted as our Don.

Traditionally, the Don title passes from father to son, but when the heir is unfit—or in the case of a voto di sfiducia—vote of no confidence —another family can rise.

Unfortunately, Leonardo died at the worst possible moment: La Famiglia was at war with the Venezuelans.

We couldn't afford a power vacuum or a civil war.

So we gave the crown to Edoardo out of desperation.

And we've been paying the price ever since.

"I don't know everything," Cat interrupts my musings. "She kept most of her business out of sight."

"But you saw more than you think," I reply. "You've been in that house for years. You were invisible. And people forget the invisible ones are listening."

Her lips part slightly. I can almost see the moment it hits her—not power, not exactly, but usefulness . For the first time in her life, she isn't just surviving. She isn't being used. She's significant .

She knows things no one else does. Suddenly, her silence all those years—her observation, her endurance—matter now.

A flicker burns in her eyes. It's not pride, not exactly.

Not yet. But awareness. The faintest breath of purpose taking root in someone who's only ever existed in the margins—someone who was always owned, but never seen .

"Then let me speak," she says, quietly but firmly, making me even prouder of her.

I incline my head. "Speak."

"She always has her phone with her. She's always typing into it, looking things up. And she trusted Giovanni with nothing. I think… I think she used him as cover. Let him play boss while she made the real decisions behind the curtain."

My jaw tightens. It tracks. Everything tracks.

"And what about now?" I prod to see how far her conclusions will take her. "What do you think she'll do next?"

"She'll go to Don Edoardo. She will try to twist the story. She'll say Izzy was a plant, or bait. That you orchestrated this to… to… I don't know why." She admits the last, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and astonishment that she said these things.

A smile parts my lips even though I really have nothing to smile about.

Fires are burning everywhere around me, and I'm sitting here…

with this woman… doing what exactly? Brainstorming?

About Donna Margarita? I should be doing this with Silvano, not her.

But for the first time in a long time, I'm actually enjoying myself.

Talking to Cat is like going out and enjoying a fresh breeze after being inside a stifling room for too long.

I sit back and consider her words; my hand drifts to the edge of the table, where I tap my fingers.

She leans in, voice quieter. "If you don't get ahead of her, she'll make you the villain."

Smart girl.

"She already tried," I fill her in, even though I have no reason to. "Roberto called Edoardo crying for retribution."

Her mouth opens slightly. "Because you have Giovanni?"

It was stupid of me to tell her that, to give her leverage like this.

It's a gamble I would have never taken with anybody else.

Not when so much hangs in the balance. But I'm also curious, curious to see what she'll do with that information.

"Nobody knows about that," I warn her, telling her that she has leverage now.

It's a stupid move, and yet, I cannot help myself.

I want to know what she'll do. "If the Giordanos find out Giovanni is still alive, it'll cause all kinds of… problems."

"Roberto thinks he's dead?"

"They all do." I nod, watching her closely.

She blinks slowly, and I can see the gears turning. She's connecting dots. Political leverage, family power plays… and her place in the middle of it all.

She swallows. Her voice lowers. "Then what happens to me?"

I meet her gaze dead-on. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On how well you play the part you were born into. You want to be free?" I ask. "Then help me bury them. Use what they did to you to rip their empire apart from the inside out. I'll protect your family. I'll protect you . If you want to stop running, this is how it ends."

She stares at me for a long moment.

And then, slowly, she nods.

"Good girl," I murmur.

She flinches slightly at the words but doesn't pull away.

I stand, grabbing my phone. "I'll give you five minutes. Alone. You'll call your parents. I'll keep my word, piccola. But after that?"

I look back at her.

"You're mine."