Page 56 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

Exhausted, I fall into one of the padded chairs in Eliza's sitting room.

We're surrounded by an ungodly number of shopping bags.

Mamma looks just as done as I feel. Sabine and Izzy, on the other hand, are full of energy as they start going through the obscene amount of things we bought.

Eliza excuses herself to check on the cook and dinner after our six-hour-long shopping trip to Maison étoile.

"I'm done," I complain, kicking my shoes off and stretching my burning toes. How anybody can walk in these high heels for hours on end is beyond me.

Izzy laughs, "You'll get used to it."

"Oh, I forgot about this. Isn't this the softest?" Sabine exclaims, pulling out the yellow scarf she bought earlier. If anything, Sabine has more bags than I do. I don't mind, though. She looks radiant; shopping did her good.

"Just remember to thank Enrico," Mamma counsels gently.

"Yes, mamma," Sabine smiles sweetly.

It was a good day. A fun day. I think Sabine and I turned a corner; she's been all smiles and giddiness all day, hugging and kissing me, calling me the best sister ever. Izzy pulled me aside, at one point, shaking her head distrustfully. "Be careful," she warned.

I'm not taking it seriously, though. I think Izzy is a bit jealous because Sabine and I are growing closer. I'll make Izzy see that she has two sisters now, not just one.

"Ugh," I stand up and feel like I'm walking on needles.

"Keep down, silly," Izzy scolds.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I whine, overdramatizing my exit as I walk on tiptoes, groaning like an old woman, to the sound of giggles from Izzy, Sabine, and my mother. Those giggles are like music to my ears. We're all becoming a family.

There is a bathroom right off the entrance hallway. It's a guest bathroom, or powder room, but since it's the closest, I intend to use it.

While I wash my hands after I'm done, I contemplate putting my feet under the cold spray, thinking how good it'll feel.

But common sense wins out, and I unlock the door and pull it open.

Only to have my breath rushed out of me.

There, by the entrance, stands Enrico in all his splendor.

My heart reaches out, and I'm about to call out to him when I see the frown on his face.

It's ugly, a mask of hate and anger, not Enrico at all.

My heart speeds up, and my hand flies to my chest. I watch the man I'm falling in love with visibly shake himself out of it, plaster a smile on his face, take a deep breath, and walk toward the sitting room where Izzy, Sabine, and my mom are still giggling.

"Enrico," I call him.

He turns. His smile is all fake and plastered, but the moment his eyes land on me, it changes, becoming softer, warmer, and more genuine.

"Cat." He breathes my name. "God, you're a sight for sore eyes. You have no idea how much I needed to see you."

That's all it takes. Any thought of trepidation or fear rushes out of me, and I run forward, right into his arms. His lips claim mine with the same ferocity from last night, maybe a tad more.

"How was your day?" He asks when we come up to get air.

"Good," I say, tilting my head, waiting for him to fill me in on what had him so upset.

"I heard you girls all went shopping." His fingers draw lazy circles over my shoulder, making me forget anything but him.

"Hmm," I agree, leaning into his embrace.

"Is there anything left at Maison étoile?" He teases.

"Not much," I admit. "I'm afraid we spent a fortune," guilt rushes up in me. I didn't have the heart to deny Sabine or Mamma anything, but I shouldn't have bought so much for myself. I spent Enrico's money like… like I had a claim to it.

My face heats up. "We might have overspent."

"You like shopping?"

"I love it," I admit. "I love anything fashion."

"Good. And I have the funds to support that hobby of yours. Shop away to your heart's content," he encourages me.

"You don't know what you're saying," I caution.

"I'm fully aware of what I'm saying. I saw the charges coming in." He laughs.

More heat rushes to my face, and he pulls me in to kiss my forehead, "You worry about spending the money, I worry about it coming in, alright?"

As generous as his words are, they bring up the memory of him standing in the doorway, looking so far away and so not like the smiling, laughing man at my side.

"Enrico?"

"Yes, Piccolina?"

"If there were something wrong, you would tell me, right?"

If I weren't scrutinizing him so hard, I would have missed the light flicker going through his eyes. He is worried about something. "I'm going to be your wife. That means that you can tell me whatever is bothering you."

For a second, I think he's going to laugh at me, but his face turns serious. "You don't want to know what's bothering me, Cat, trust me."

"I do," I insist. "A mafia family held me for fourteen years. I know more about this world than you'd think. And I want to be there for you."

His eyes search mine, just like mine are his; he must realize that I'm dead serious. His lips curve up, "How did I get this lucky?"

"Oh, I think I'm the lucky one," I contradict. "But I'm serious, if you want me to be happy, you'll share your worries with me."

He nods, "We'll talk later? I need to speak to my father."

I'm not sure where my stubbornness is coming from, but something in my gut tells me that I should be there when he talks to Fabrizio. "I want to come."

Again, he studies me for a long moment before nodding. "I suppose this concerns you too, so," he holds out his hand.

I take it and nervously follow him to Rizio's office, wondering if this time I might have bitten off a bit more than I can chew. But I meant it. I want to be part of Enrico's life, and if that means I have to learn more about their shady business dealings, then I will.

"Well, if that isn't a pleasant surprise," Rizio rises from the chair behind his desk to embrace me like a long-lost daughter.

I missed my father long enough to feel comforted in his embrace.

Even though my father is here now, he feels more like a stranger to me than Enrico's Father.

Papa hasn't gone out of his way yet to spend time with me, and honestly, I haven't sought him out, either.

Although I'd be hard pressed to say why.

"To what do I owe this honor?" Rizio puts his arm around me and leads me to a large leather sofa. "Drink?"

"Edoardo is against the marriage." Enrico's words are like a bomb going off in the middle of the room.

"Excuse me?" Rizio turns to Enrico, frowning.

"I just came from a meeting with him, where he told me that he will not give his blessing, and that he will call you to disown me if I do go ahead with it. Oh, and that Roberto wants his hostage back and the mayor of Sicily reinstated."

Had I not already been sitting down, I would have sunk to the sofa. The world spins around me. I should have known that this happiness wouldn't last. That it would be snatched away from me. Tears form in my eyes.

"That is out of the question," Rizio thunders, walking over to the little bar area, filling two glasses with Scotch. Giving me a questioning look, but numbly, I shake my head. I rise on wobbly legs, "I'll go."

"No," both men say at the same time, turning to me with identical stone-cold expressions.

"You can't go against the Don…" My voice falters.

"Let me worry about that," Enrico pulls me in for an embrace, while Rizio holds the two glasses in his hands. He drinks one down, hesitates, then downs the other, before refilling them both.

"No, don't you see? It was never meant to be." I can't stop the sob coming up. "Your entire family could… he's your Don… you have to…"

"Here, sit," Enrico guides me back into a sitting position and holds out his hand to his father, who puts a new, filled glass of Scotch into it. He then raises it to my lips. "Drink."

Enrico and his family make scotch look effortless, part of the daily routine.

Me? I've only just graduated from white wine.

Whiskey still feels like another reminder that I'm playing catch- up in a world that's ten years older than me.

But I take it. It burns like hellfire going down my throat, but then it spreads a welcome warmth from my stomach throughout my body, killing some of the numbness that was creeping into my flesh.

"In my office, now," Rizio orders through his phone.

Seconds later, as if they'd been waiting outside, Dante, Mattheo, and Tommaso enter. They take one look at us and close the door.

"What's up?" Dante asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don Edoardo is not in favor of our marriage," Enrico fills his brothers in. I fumble for his hand and hold it. I need to leech off his strength, because God knows, mine is leaking out of me like water through a sieve. I can't sit by and watch this wonderful family get destroyed because of me.

"Let me talk to Don Edoardo," Rizio suggests reasonably. "The bastard probably just wants more money."

"Toni is ready to go against—" Enrico begins, but his father cuts him off with a stern glare.

"Not a word. He's our Don. I don't want to hear it. I will support you, like I will support all my children, but I will not support… what you're suggesting."

I'm confused. What are they talking about?

Enrico glares at him but keeps his thoughts to himself, his lips pressed into a thin line, while Dante looks at his brother curiously. The other two Sartori brothers look just as clueless as I am.

Enrico receives a text and pulls out his phone.

"Stephano thinks he found something on Alaric Bastian. I'm setting up a meeting with him."

"Alaric who?" Mattheo asks.

"The man who took Izzy. He's also known as Ledyanoy Prizrak, The Icy Ghost."

Enrico scrolls through his phone and brings up a picture to show to his brothers. I hold out my hand when the brothers are done scrutinizing it. Mattheo says, "I'm confused, I thought Giovanni took our sister."

"It looks like Giovanni was set up," Enrico presses out, putting the phone into my hand.

I stare at the face in the picture. Because of the shattered screen, it's hard to make out, but something strikes me as oddly familiar about him.

He doesn't look particularly memorable, like an ordinary guy.

Maybe that's why he seems familiar. Still, his image scratches against the outer edges of my brain, telling me I'm forgetting something important, like seeing a shadow that shouldn't be there.