Page 9 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

His gaze makes me feel warm and fluttery in places I don't usually think about.

I don't think it's the alcohol. It's him.

There's something about the way he looks at me—dark and intense, like he knows things I've never dared to imagine—that makes my skin feel too tight and my thoughts feel…

indecent. Like I accidentally wandered into the kind of story I'd never admit to reading.

"Uhm, I'm Catalina Costa," I say, clearing my throat, feeling self-conscious and foolish.

"I was born in Agrigento, Sicily, and I already told you that my father is Ceasar Costa, the Mayor of Puerto Sangue.

I've been with the Giordanos for fourteen years to ensure my father turns a blind eye to the port and his dealings there. " I summarize.

"Leave it to that sly bastard," Dante says, shaking his head.

To my surprise, all three men look disgusted, and Izzy is shocked.

"Hostage?" She asks me, and I nod.

"Alright, that's it. You go make sure her family is safe, and she and I will go to bed now." Izzy rises with graceful dignity. Holding out her hand to me, she says, "Come."

"Not so fast, I still have questions for you, Izzy." Enrico's benevolent expression turns darker.

With a dramatic sigh, Izzy plops back down. "Fine. I know, okay?" She glares at him. "I fucked up. I should have never left the?—"

Enrico cuts her off. "We can talk about your transgressions tomorrow, too. What I want to know now is, what happened?"

Most of Izzy's bravado disappears. She tightens her grip on my hand like it's the only thing tethering her to the ground.

She sits perched on the edge of the low velvet chaise like it might bite her, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

She looks tired, no, more than that, she looks shaken beneath the sass she has expressed so far. But she's trying to hide it.

"I was going to meet Gigi," she starts. "We'd planned to sneak out and go to the concert."

Enrico's jaw tightens across from me. His arms are crossed, his stance rigid while he listens to Izzy, who keeps talking, faster now. "The guards let me through like always—" She shrugs.

Enrico growls low in his throat and shoots a look at Silvano. "We'll deal with them tomorrow," he mutters darkly.

Izzy winces. "I know. I messed up."

"Just keep going," he says, voice clipped but under control.

She nods. "I walked down the path toward our meeting spot, but Gigi wasn't there. Then a black SUV pulled up. I thought maybe she changed the plan last-minute or sent someone to get me. But…"

Her voice falters.

"But?" Dante encourages.

Izzy swallows. "A man got out. I didn't even feel scared at first. He didn't look like he could grab me."

"What did he look like?" Enrico prods.

Izzy's face scrunches up in concentration to recall the man. "He was bald, pale. He looked like… nothing. Just some nobody. Totally unmemorable. Maybe five ten? Lean. I never thought he could grab me."

It makes sense. Izzy is probably surrounded by tall, fit men all the time, just like I was at the Giordano mansion—no guard under two hundred pounds of sheer muscle weight. Anyone who looked like they weighed less than that and were under six feet probably didn't look like a threat.

"But he was strong. He grabbed my arm. His grip was like iron, and I couldn't move, couldn't shake him. He threw me into the SUV, and the doors locked the second they shut. I tried to open them; I kicked, screamed, and cursed him, but he didn't care. Didn't even look at me. He just drove."

Enrico is deathly still beside me. The kind of still that comes before something explodes.

"Did he say anything?" he asks.

"No," Izzy replies. "Not a word. After maybe twenty minutes, he pulled over. Climbed into the back. Tied my wrists and ankles like it was nothing. Like he'd done it a hundred times. Then he just… kept driving."

"Where?"

"To the Giordano estate. Through the back gate. He took me straight to the basement."

Izzy's eyes flick to mine, and for the first time, her facade cracks. "He tied me to the chair. Then he left. It was cold and dark, and I couldn't move. And then…" Her gaze softens. "Cat came."

She reaches for my hand. I take it and squeeze, just enough to let her know she's not alone.

Enrico and Dante ask a few more questions, but it quickly becomes obvious that this is all Izzy has to say. Twenty minutes later, they finally let us go to bed.

"Here, take this room right next to mine," Izzy says, swinging open the door to a spacious bedroom that leaves me breathless.

A large canopy bed with yellow and white pillows and a matching comforter dominates one wall.

Yellow and white curtains drape over dark shutters, blocking my view outside.

Before I can take in the small sitting area, Izzy is already opening another door. "Your bathroom."

I peek over her shoulder to find a sunken tub, a walk-in shower, and a sink with wall-to-wall countertops and cabinets. A mirror hangs in the center, flanked by shelves that fill the rest of the wall. I spot another door and assume it leads to the toilet.

Izzy rushes to open the final door in the bedroom. "Your closet. Your very empty closet." Her pretty forehead creases. "We'll need to fix that tomorrow. For now, I'll give you some of my stuff. Come on."

Like a gust of wind, she whirls out of the room, and I follow her into her bedroom, which is decorated in soft pink and white. Its layout is nearly identical to mine.

"I always wanted a sister. Growing up with four brothers wasn't easy," she sighs, shaking her head. "So, I claimed the other room and decorated it for the sister I liked to pretend I had." She gives a casual shrug, as if to say So sue me .

She grabs my hand again and pulls me further into her room, which is just slightly larger than mine. She heads for her closet. I'm used to hand-me-downs, so I don't mind.

"Pajamas or nightie?" she asks, holding up a gauzy nightshirt and a pair of comfy gray pajamas with a silver lining.

"Pajamas," I reply, grinning widely; I've never worn anything this nice.

"Good choice," she nods approvingly, handing me the pajamas. I realize with astonishment that the sales tag is still attached.

"You never wore these?"

She looks a little sheepish. "They're a bit small for me," she says, gesturing to her generous chest. "Do you want to pick an outfit for the morning or wait until then?"

I stifle a yawn. "Tomorrow morning."

"Good. A new toothbrush and toothpaste are in your bathroom, along with soap, lotion, towels, and other essentials. Oh, and there are creams and cosmetics in the drawers."

I can only manage to say, "Thank you."

"No, thank you. You saved me." Her eyes well with tears as she hugs me tightly. "What you did, I'll never forget, I promise."

Humming softly to myself, I return to my room.

It's not that I didn't have a room at the Giordanos, but it was nothing like this.

Warmth fills me wherever I look, from a Hello Kitty notebook with a matching pen lying on the small writing desk to a bookshelf filled with an eclectic assortment of books.

Izzy must have really wanted a sister. The books tell a story; there are stories for toddlers, children, teenagers, and finally, adults.

I imagine her walking into this room, adding whatever she thought her imaginary sister would like, and a smile creeps over my lips.

A stuffed duck sits atop the bed. A duck!

There is no doubt this room was done with love and longing.

It also makes me wonder about the Sartoris for indulging Izzy in this.

They gave her an entire room to decorate as she liked.

The love this family has for each other isn't lost on me.

For a moment, I wonder if it would have been like this for me, had I been allowed to grow up with my family instead of the Giordanos.

Would Sabine, my sister, and I have been as close as Izzy obviously wants to be?

I'd like to think so. But that only leads me to thinking of them and the danger they're in, and that's the last thing I want to contemplate right now.

I can't do anything about it other than send a quick prayer to the mother of God to protect my family.

And hope Enrico will follow through with his promise.

A clock on the nightstand shows that it's nearing midnight. It's time to sleep, but my mind is so wired that I'm not sure I'll be able to.

Relishing the feel of the plush, light yellow carpet beneath my feet, I make my way to the bathroom, where the shower beckons me. A quick glance in the mirror confirms it's a good idea to take one, especially when I notice a leaf caught in my hair.

I lay out the fluffy pajamas Izzy gave me on the vanity, soft cotton with little embroidered moons. They make me feel… included, valued. Uninvited, my thoughts drift to Camilla and her hand-me-downs.

At first, it wasn't awful. We were five.

Just kids who played together. We braided each other's hair, and I didn't mind that when we played make-believe, she insisted on being the princess while I had to be the maid.

It was the only attention I received. I think it was that way for her, too.

Her mom wasn't like mine at all; mostly, we only saw her during dinner.

When Camilla's friends came over, I hovered at the edges of their games, not uninvited, but barely tolerated.

Initially, she let me stay and included me now and then.

They made it clear that I wasn't part of their world, but I hadn't been cast out yet.

That changed when we hit puberty.

I remember one day in particular—it's seared into my memory.

Roberto, cruel as ever, made a disgusting remark about my body, about my developing breasts. I flushed with shame. Camilla's expression didn't change, but after that, the hand-me-downs did.