Page 22 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

Edoardo flinches. Anger moves over his features, but I'm sure it's directed at me for not following his orders rather than at Roberto, who abducted my sister. Fucking weak asshole.

"That is a grave accusation. Do you have proof of this?" Edoardo slinks back into his chair, hiding behind the safety of his desk.

"My sister saw them both," I nod, stepping on Roberto's hand before he can make another grab for his gun. Hidden behind his desk, Edoardo has no clue that I'm slowly breaking Roberto's knuckles.

"Get off me, you fucker," Roberto growls, kicking toward me. With a chuckle, I step back and watch him go on all fours before clutching his hand. "Your sister is not a reliable witness." He pours himself a whiskey with his uninjured hand.

"He's right," Edoardo agrees. "You had no right to break into the Giordano's place and kill a capo. That is, if Giovanni is dead?" He directs at me, and I ignore the question.

"My sister wouldn't lie," I reply with a snarl. I was prepared for this argument. "Guiliana DeLuna also witnessed the abduction and has pictures of one of your cars," I glare at Roberto.

Roberto laughs dryly, "Forged."

"You need to do better than that," Edoardo says, leaning back in his chair.

Too calmly. My eyes move between the two men in the room.

This was orchestrated. Edoardo is in on this, at least partially.

I don't know his motives, but I will find out, and when I do, I won't give a shit if he's our Don or not.

"I also have another witness, a girl who was being held hostage in your house." I smile at Roberto, loving the way he's turning pale again. I hate throwing Cat out to the wolves, but I'll keep her safe. Nobody will lay a hand on her.

"What girl?" Edoardo leans forward. Interesting. This seems to be a part he wasn't aware of.

"The daughter of some unimportant mayor in Sicily," Roberto empties his glass and puts his injured hand into the ice bucket.

"Oh," I mock. "Unimportant?"

Roberto glares at me. He has no idea how to respond. A telling sign. Whatever he and Edoardo are up to just went off script. Making me wonder who wrote it.

"She's the daughter of the mayor of a major port in Sicily. Porto Sangue. All of the Giordano's shipments go through it." I fill him in.

The tension thickens. Roberto glares at me, trying to act like he still holds the upper hand, but his body betrays him.

His shoulders are too tight, and the vein on his throat is pulsing.

Edoardo leans forward behind the desk, still holding that half-empty glass of expensive whiskey like it's going to shield him from the explosion he senses is coming.

"Unimportant. Just a spoiled Sicilian brat." Roberto tries to play it off.

"Oh, unimportant , huh?" I smirk at him. "Then why doesn't our Don know about her?"

He doesn't answer.

Edoardo's eyes are on Roberto. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

Roberto has no response, so I press. "Because they used her to put pressure on her father so they could move shipments without reporting them to the family."

Edoardo's knuckles whiten on the glass. "Shipments." Now that he's scented payoffs being denied to him, he's all ears.

"Shipments," I growl. "Drugs. Arms. Crypto cash. Human trafficking. Whatever it was, it didn't pass through the usual channels. No percentages sent upward. No oversight."

Roberto finally finds his voice, and it's cold with a hint of defensiveness. "We were securing alternative revenue?—"

"For who ?" I cut in. "You? Giovanni? Or whatever offshore ally you're funneling that product to?"

Edoardo slams his glass down on the desk hard enough to crack it. "You ran product behind my back?"

"No, no," Roberto says too quickly. "Never?—"

"That's the problem with half-baked schemes, Roberto," I say, my voice like steel.

"You forget the part where someone like me finds out.

And then the whole thing goes—" Dramatically, I hold my fist closed, then suddenly fling my fingers wide open—like a flower blooming, only fast and violent. "Boom."

Roberto turns red. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but Edoardo holds up a hand. "Shut up."

Roberto stops.

Edoardo rises slowly. "Is what he's saying true?" He asks, his voice dangerously quiet.

Roberto hesitates. It's the wrong move.

"Answer me!" Edoardo slams his fist down this time, full force. The desk shakes.

"Yes," Roberto snaps. "But I just found out. My dad kept it from me. We had a fight. That's why I left." He glares at me, still smarting from when I accused him earlier of running away while his father was left to deal with my wrath. "I had no idea about any of this. I swear." He looks at Edoardo.

Edoardo moves faster than I expect. He comes around the desk, grabs Roberto by the collar, and slams him into the wood paneling. "I will investigate this," Edoardo hisses. "And you better pray I don't catch you in another lie . "

Roberto struggles in his grip, but he doesn't fight back. I fold my arms and watch with satisfaction.

He turns to me, "This will need a thorough investigation. I want to speak to that girl."

I don't like it, but I don't have a choice, so I nod tightly. "At my house, under my supervision."

"That's not how this goes, and you know it." Edoardo retorts.

"You can speak to her alone, but in my house." I concede grudgingly.

Edoardo still glares at me, but he and I both know that's the only peaceful deal he'll get unless he sends an army to storm my mansion.

Roberto stares at me, full of hate. For a moment, I think he's going to lunge at me again, but he decides against it.

Too bad. I was ready, too. "If that's it, I'm going to get…

cleaned up now," I smirk at Edoardo, who waves his hand magnanimously.

The moment I open the door, I stare into Donna Margarita's incensed face.

"You!" She snarls, claws out, and goes for my face. My shoulder screams, but I grab both of her wrists in a vise-like grip.

"Call your mother-in-law off," I say, turning my head to Edoardo.

"Why is he still alive?" Donna Margarita demands. "Let go of me." She shakes her hands.

She is a very beautiful woman, even in black to show her mourning for her presumed dead son, Giovanni.

She's the kind of woman who makes priests sweat and killers bow their heads.

Regal, manipulative, and dangerous as a snake in a diamond collar.

She walks into a room like she owns it, and if she doesn't, she makes damn sure she does by the time she leaves.

Everything about her is precision—her posture, her voice, the tilt of her chin when she's lying to your face and daring you to call her on it. She wears her grief like a badge of honor and her sins like silk.

She's old-school Cosa Nostra in designer heels. Raised with the old rules, but clever enough to bend the new ones to her will. And behind all that poise and elegance? Thirty years of secrets. Ones that she's willing to kill for.

She's not just Roberto's grandmother; I can't fight the feeling that she's the architect of this mess—the poison in the water. She's got her hand in everything, and I believe that includes the match that lit this fire.

But it's not the power that unsettles me. It's the conviction in her eyes, the belief that she's right, no matter who has to die for her version of the truth. You don't negotiate with a woman like that. You survive her.

"Roberto," she sniffs, and I let go of her. She rushes to her grandson and embraces him. Before I make my exit, I catch a glimpse of Edoardo, who looks at his mother-in-law like a deer caught in the headlights.