Page 128 of Wounded King

Toni hangs deliberately back for a few minutes after the others leave, giving me the impression he has something to tell me.

"It was a pleasure meeting Violet," he says, adjusting the cuffs of his blazer. "You two look… content."

He pauses, watching me go still.

Content?

Is that supposed to meansoft? Or is he angling at something else?

My fingers tighten around the edge of the table. "She's not part of this," I say coolly.

Toni's eyes flick up to mine. There's a flash of amusement there, the kind only a man who knows exactly how far he can push without losing teeth would wear. "Relax. It was just a compliment. She's got fire. Suits you."

He stands and straightens his jacket. "On that note," he adds casually, as if it's an afterthought, "I think you might be interested in knowing that Enzo Carbone will be landing in New York tomorrow morning."

My spine straightens. "What?"

He just smiles. "Ciao, Marcello."

He walks out like he didn't just toss a grenade onto the table. I stare at the closed door for a long moment. I have no idea how he got that intel—or how he knows Enzo is Violet's father, and therefore ofconsiderableinterest to me—but secrets don't stay buried long in our world. Not when names like Carbone are attached.

"I'm very interested in that piece of information," I murmur to the empty room. "Thank you."

What in the hell is Enzo doing here?

Blood revenge?

Family reunion?

A cleanup job?

None of those outcomes are appealing, and I have a feeling I won't like the answer when it lands. Waiting isn't exactly my forte.

But there's one thing Icando in the meantime. A grin spreads over my face.

I grab my phone and call my assistant. "Get the private jet ready. I'll be heading for the Maldives. And find out where Toni's wedding will be. Reserve a place for two."

"Yes, Mr. Orsi," she replies, not giving away that it's the middle of the night and that she was probably asleep.

Now all I have to do is surprise Violet with the early trip.

That should buy me enough time to figure out what the fuck Enzo Carbone is planning—and whether I'll need to greet him with open arms or open fire.

The next day…

It's the middle of the night, and Marcello wakes me to tell me that we're leaving for the wedding venue in the Maldives early, as in right now.

Sleepily, I roll over. "Ugh, I haven't even grabbed my passport from my apartment yet," I yawn.

He puts one knee on the bed, dipping the mattress lightly, and brushes some strands of my hair from my face.

"I'll have one waiting for you by the time you need it, sweetheart, now come on, be a good girl."

I stretch, still half asleep, and blink a few times at him. When I sit up, I notice several bags packed by the entrance to the closets.

"You already packed our bags?"

"I'm ready to have you all to myself for a few days."