Page 106 of Dangerous King
"Just make sure Izzy takes you to Maison Étoile and only Maison Étoile," Enrico emphasizes.
I blanch but hope that in the increasing darkness, he can't see it. A few days ago, Izzy, Eliza, and I popped in there to grab Eliza a scarf—a thousand-plus-dollar scarf—and I still haven't been able to wrap my head around how much Izzy and I spent that time we spent the whole day there. I can't even imagine what a wedding dr?—
"Take this," Enrico holds out a black card with gold lettering, interrupting my inner thoughts. Izzy has a card like this. It's some kind of credit card reserved for the richest of the rich.
"Enrico." I can't bring myself to take the card. My head is slowly shaking left to right automatically. "I can't… I can't take your money…"
He laughs, "Of course you can, Piccolina. That's what it's for."
"That place is so expensive…" I try to protest, but he only laughs again, taking my chin with the hand not holding the card, "Cat, if you can't do it for yourself, think about it that way. As my wife, you'll have to present yourself a certain way, which includes expensive clothes, jewelry, shoes, handbags—everything. If you don't want people to start speculating that I'm about to go bankrupt, you need to buy the most expensive things there are."
I know he's humoring me, but there is also a certain amount of truth to his words. I lived with the Giordanos long enough to have learned that much. Still, Camilla never went to Maison Étoile, at least not with me.
"But what if I spend you into bankruptcy?" I bring up another objection.
Enrico laughs, a deep, rich sound that echoes through the moonlit garden and earns another disgruntled grunt from Shadow.
"I make more insix hoursthan most CEOs make in a quarter," he says, amusement sparking in his eyes. "Unless you're planning to personally fund a private jet made of diamonds and line it with albino chinchilla fur, I think I'll survive."
I gape at him. "Six hours?"
He shrugs, still grinning. "That's on a slow day."
I cross my arms, trying to hold onto my indignation, but his smile is infectious, and the absurdity of his example finally makes me snort. "Chinchilla fur?"
"You'd look cute wrapped in luxury," he teases, tucking the card into my palm despite my protests. "But you don't need it to be stunning. You just need it because my family—and this world—is full of sharks. You walk into those rooms, and I want every single one of them to know you belong to me. That you're not just my bride—you're a Sartori."
A chill runs through me, but not a bad one. Not fear. It's awe. It's… safety. He leans in again, softer this time. "You don't have to prove yourself, Cat. Just let them see you the way I see you."
I close my fingers around the card, finally. Not for the card itself, but for what it means. What it represents. I'm his. And he's mine.
And come hell or high fashion, I'll rise to the occasion.
Another thought crosses my mind. I hate to ask Enrico for even more than he's already given me, but… "Do you mind if I take… Mamma and Sabine shopping too?"
"I insist you do," he presses a kiss against my forehead. "I should have sent the three of you earlier. God knows they probably need a lot of things after leaving Sicily in the middle of the night."
"Your mamma already filled their closets and made your brothers do the same for Papa and my brothers," I tell him. There is still more. "I heard Papa talking to Fabrizio earlier. I think Roberto froze his accounts; they don't have any money…"
"I'll dig into it," he promises, and I lay my head against his chest, so relieved to have him to lean on. "I was also thinking about offering your brothers jobs at our casinos. What do you think about that?"
I lift my head. Can this man be any more wonderful? He thinks about everything.
"They can stay on the legit side. I'll make sure of it," Enrico assures me.
"Thank you. Grazie mille." Impulsively, I wrap my arms around him and kiss him.
He kisses me back, slow and deep, his arms wrap around my waist like he's anchoring us both. When we finally part, my breath is shaky, and my heart feels too full for my chest.
"Piccolina," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "Don't thank me for doing what any decent man would do. You're my future. That makes your family mine. I take care of what's mine."
I blink fast, trying to keep the emotion from spilling over.
"You really mean it, don't you?" I whisper.
"I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I didn't," he says simply, then his lips curve in that crooked, devastating grin. "Though if you want to keep sayingthank youlike that…"
I smack his chest, laughing, and he catches my wrist, pressing another kiss to my knuckles.
