Page 71 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

I'm floating. I'm not sure if it's the champagne, the adrenaline, or the way Enrico keeps stealing glances at me like I've hung the moon, but I feel weightless. Giddy. Untouchably happy.

I'm sitting next to my husband.

My husband .

The word tastes sweeter than any dessert. I sneak a look at him. He looks so dark and devastating in his tuxedo, his wedding band gleaming on his strong hand as he reaches for his wine glass. He doesn't take his eyes off me.

Everywhere around us, there's laughter and warmth.

Tables are arranged across the lawn like a garden dream.

Golden chandeliers sway gently above us, suspended from high poles as if plucked from some enchanted ballroom.

Red roses and white lilies overflow from crystal vases, and their perfume mingles with the smell of roasted lamb, fresh bread, and honey-glazed vegetables.

Guests chatter cheerfully at every table; glasses clink in a steady rhythm.

Clink-clink-clink-clink.

Another wave of that familiar sound. I turn just in time for Enrico to take my chin gently and kiss me, slow and deep. A cheer erupts around us, with hoots and whistles from his brothers, my brothers.

My cheeks ache from smiling. My body still tingles from the ceremony, and my heart—my foolish, once-cynical heart—beats like it never thought it would be allowed to love this freely. This fully.

I never thought I'd have this. Not really. A wedding. A white dress. A husband who looks at me like I'm both salvation and sin. But here I am, surrounded by family, flowers, and flickering candlelight.

I reach under the table and give Enrico's hand a squeeze. He laces our fingers together and lifts our joined hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

"You good, Mrs. Sartori?" he murmurs.

"So good I don't even believe it's real," I whisper back.

He grins that lazy, wicked grin of his. "It's real. And it's only the beginning."

Dio mio, I believe him too. I've become a believer in happily ever after fairytales.

In princesses who don't marry the prince, but the dragon, who protected them all along.

But even a princess needs to use the restroom.

Before the guests decide on another round of clinking silverware against glasses, I whisper to Enrico that I'll be right back.

"Where are you going?" He creases his brow.

I laugh, "You don't ask a lady that."

He quirks an eyebrow, like he has his doubts about me being a lady. Well, honestly, after the things we did last night… I have my doubts too.

"Nothing is going to happen to me between here and the powder room." I kiss his lips.

Thankfully, Toni comes up and occupies Enrico, so I can make a hasty getaway. Of course, there is a line at the powder room; this isn't a multi-toilet bathroom like what was at the Arsenyev's estate. Luckily, I know my way around, and I head toward another bathroom just off Fabrizio's office.

All doors are closed, and it's quiet in this part of the mansion.

I quickly finish my business, feeling a bit guilty and wondering if maybe I should share my secret with some of the women waiting at the end of the hall, but when I come out of the bathroom, I notice the door to Rizio's office is open, and all thoughts of hospitality cut off.

I am sure it was closed when I went to the bathroom.

A sense of déjà vu overpowers me, and every cell in my body tells me to leave it be.

But just like someone who's compelled to touch the red-hot burner just to see if it's still hot, I can't help myself, and my legs carry me forward to the office.

Low voices carry over to me. I can't hear what is being said, but I can tell it's a man and a woman talking.

The moment I peek around the doorframe, I'm thunderstruck.

There is Sabine, again, with the same man I saw her talking to at the Arsenyev's ball.

This time, though, my heart freezes as I recognize the man.

It's the same one whose picture is on Enrico's phone, and now I know where I know him from.

Back when Enrico showed me the image, I knew I had seen him before, but I just couldn't place him. He was at the Giordano's house.

"Sabine?" I ask because my brain is fried. I should be running to Enrico with this news, but right then, all I can think about is that this man is a monster, and that monster is standing right next to my little sister.

The two of them break apart from their too-cozy conversation.

Sabine's face turns white, while the man just…

smirks. I don't have a chance to scream or yell, but there have to be bodyguards around here.

The man pushes by me, and I swear it's like a ghost moved through me.

I shudder, and icy cold wells from within me.

"You just have to stick your nose into everything, don't you?" Sabine hisses, also walking by me.

"Sabine, do you know who that man is?"

Sabine spins around so fast her heels skid on the polished wood floor. "Yes, Catalina. I do." Her voice drips with venom, her expression tight with rage and something more terrifying— conviction.

I blink at her, stunned. "He's Ledyanoy Prizrak, Sabine. He's a killer. You can't trust him; he's working with people who hurt our family."

"Oh, now you care about family?" she snaps. "Now you're the protective sister, the one who just knows better ? God, do you even hear yourself?"

My pulse thunders in my ears. "This isn't about me. That man is dangerous."

"And you think Enrico isn't?" Her voice cracks. "You think your husband is some noble prince? Wake up. You're just another pawn in a game you don't know the rules of."

"I know exactly who Enrico is," I say tightly. "And I trust him with my life."

Sabine scoffs, stepping closer. "Of course you do. Catalina always gets the hero. Catalina always gets the crown. Catalina gets the mansion and the dress and the fairytale wedding, while I rot in the back row of her story."

"You think this is a fairy tale ?" I yell, and my voice catches with fury and pain.

"I grew up locked in the Giordano estate like a goddamn prisoner.

I watched things no child should ever see.

I was bartered like property. Enrico didn't rescue me; I survived long enough to finally choose someone who wouldn't hurt me. "

She laughs, bitter and low. "And now you think you're safe? You don't even know who you married, do you?"

The slap of her words stings more than a physical blow.

"Sabine, I love you. If you're in deep with him, if you're in trouble, let me help you."

Her eyes flash. "I don't need your help. I never have. I was just trying to survive, the same as you. Only difference? A man finally picked me. A good man. He's an undercover cop, and he's going to blow your whole goddam fairy tale right into your face."

And with that, she storms further down the corridor, heels echoing like gunshots on marble.

People have begun to notice us. Heads turn.

Conversations stall mid-sentence. A hush ripples through the corridor like wind over tall grass, then sharpens into the buzz of whispering mouths.

I catch fragments— Is that her sister? What did she say? Undercover cop?

Sabine's words echo in my head, looping like some kind of nightmare refrain. He's an undercover cop… blow your whole goddamn fairytale right into your face.

She's out of her mind. I don't care about the whispers.

I don't care about the stares. Let them talk.

My heels click hard and fast on the marble as I chase after her, my stomach is filled with a fury I've never experienced before.

But I'm also so confused. Why would Sabine say all those hurtful things to me?

"Sabine!" I call after her.

But she doesn't stop.

She marches right into the dining room where the wedding cake—a towering, glistening monument of sugar and dreams—is being set up by the catering team. The waitstaff scatter when they see her, sensing something is wrong.

"Sabine," I say again, slower now. My breath is ragged; the dress and heavy train were not made for running. Neither were the six-inch stilettos. "Just stop. Talk to me."

She whirls around so suddenly that I nearly collide with her.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" Her voice drips acid. "Now you give a shit?"

Her face is twisted, with raw, undiluted fury. Unfiltered resentment burns in her eyes, and it stuns me. I've never seen her like this. Not even close.

"God, you're so spoiled ," she seethes. "My entire life, it was Catalina this and Catalina that. No , we can't go to your ballet rehearsal, Sabine—there's a call scheduled with Catalina . No, we can't get you those shoes, Catalina needs book money ."

I stumble a step back, blinking like she slapped me. "Sabine… I never knew you felt like?—"

"You never knew anything!" she spits. "Because everything was always handed to you. Even when you were locked up in that gilded cage, the legend of you was bigger than the truth of me. Catalina would have never done—said—acted like this ."

Her voice cracks, and she looks at me like I'm the villain in her story. The spotlight thief. The one who stole air, space, and light.

"Sabine," I breathe, trying to piece it together, trying to reach her. "You don't know what my life was?—"

"Oh, please. Stop the tortured Cinderella act. You want sympathy because you were kept in a mansion while I was forgotten ? You were the one everyone worried about, the one everyone loved , while I learned how to take care of myself."

"I love you," I whisper, throat raw. "You're my sister."

Her laugh is cold and ugly. "You love me from your ivory tower. Now you've got the prince, the crown, the dress, the whole goddamn fairytale. And I'm still the girl in the shadows."

She turns again, marching into the dining room.

I'm about to follow her when I see her grabbing the knife.

Not in a million years would I have ever thought my sister would hurt me, but right now…

I'm not so sure. The knife is long and sharp, meant for the bride and groom to cut the cake.

Her hand wraps around it with too much familiarity.

Too much purpose. I stop cold, every cell in my body screams. For a split second, my heart jumps into my throat. Is she going to stab me?

I take a step back, all of my instincts flaring, but she turns toward the cake with a maniacal laugh, eyes wild and shining with some cruel, unhinged satisfaction. "And you don't get your fucking cake either!" she shouts.

And plunges the knife into the cake.

A boom splits the air.

A concussive blast ripples outward, ripping the world apart in an instant.

The cake explodes— literally explodes—in a flash of white and fire.

Glass shatters, tables overturn, people scream.

The sound is deafening. The shockwave sends me flying backward, slamming my body full force against the wall behind me.

The wind is knocked out of me, and a sharp pain in my torso robs me of what little breath I have.

My ears ring, smoke fills the air, smoke and… blood. There is so much blood.

My head swims, I think I hit that too. My vision goes blurry, but not before I see some yellow piece of cloth, the same yellow Sabine was wearing, red with blood, floating down on the ground. That's when everything goes mercifully black around me.