Page 131 of Dangerous King
Possessiveness.
It stuns me a little. I've never felt this before. I never wanted to be the kind of woman who sharpens her smile just enough to draw blood if someone flirts too close to what's hers.
Until now.
I lean in closer, resting my hand on Enrico's forearm. He glances at me immediately, distracted from whatever business nod he was about to give across the room. His eyes search mine, alert and focused, and the corners of his mouth curve just slightly when he sees the heat there.
He knows.
A flicker of something dark and satisfied passes through his gaze, and he instinctively shifts his body toward mine, drawing the line clearer. His thumb brushes my hand, slow and deliberate—a silent reassurance, and a very loud claim.
Back off. She's mine.
But what no one sees is that it'smutual.
He's mine, too.
God help any woman who thinks she can lay her claws on him. I never thought of myself as territorial. But maybe love—love?—changes you. Or maybe it justrevealsyou. All I know is, this man is not up for negotiation.
A low, deep gong reverberates through the room like something out of a dream. All the murmuring stills for a moment and then resumes in a current of graceful motion as people begin making their way to another room.
Enrico leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "Dinner," he murmurs. "This way."
His fingers thread through mine, and together we walk through a gilded and glowing corridor. The lighting here is the same as it was in the other room, intimate. It leads into a dining room so beautiful it could've been plucked straight from a royal palace. Hundreds of candles flicker in tall golden candelabras. The ceiling stretches above us with ornate frescoes and chandeliers that catch the light like fire. Tables stretch the length of the room, elegant and endless, gleaming with crystal and expensive china.
He leads me to a place near the front, where my name catches the candlelight in delicate gold script:Miss Catalina Costa.
My throat tightens.
Enrico pulls out my chair with quiet ceremony and helps me into it. I sit, stunned. The table is fit for queens, the plates white and gold, rimmed in the softest blush pink. Napkins folded like lilies. Silverware so polished I can see my reflection. I don't say a word. I can't.
Across from me, Izzy is already charming a tall, handsome Russian; her laughter rings like champagne. Sabine is deep in conversation with a dark-haired man in an exquisitely tailored tuxedo, her body angled toward him in that unconscious way that meansI'm very interested.
Enrico's hand brushes mine under the table.
"You're quiet," he says softly, searching my face.
I glance around again, this sea of glittering gowns, tuxedos, and power, and then back to him. "I'm just trying to take it all in. This… isn't a life I ever imagined for myself."
"You look like you were born for it."
Something in the way he says it—quiet, certain, and with so much unshakable confidence—unlocks a part of me I didn't know was waiting. I'm not there yet, not entirely, but in his eyes, I catch a glimpse of the woman I could become. And for the first time, I believe she might actually fit here.
The laughter, the opulence, the weight of diamonds at my throat and silk pooling at my feet—it all feels different now. Like it belongs to me. Like I belong to it.
I'm not just surviving anymore. I haven't stumbled into a life I don't deserve. I've arrived. I've stepped into the world I was meant for. And I'm standing beside the man I'm slowly falling in love with.
Some might think that's backward, that love should come first. That I shouldn't be about to marry a man that I'm not already head-over-heels in love with. But our lives aren't built like that. This is something I learned the hard way, back with the Giordanos. In the mafia world, love's a luxury—and a liability. Our lives are forged in shadows, in loyalty and blood. Around here, feelings have to wait their turn, behind instinct, behind control, behind the need to stay alive. Dating? That luxury doesn't exist here. In Enrico's world—my world, now—affection is vulnerability. Time is risk. If you hesitate, you bleed. If you're not claimed, you're hunted. Marriage isn't just about romance; it's a shield, a warning, a statement of belonging.
If I want to stay at his side, if I want to truly explore whatthis—whatwe—could become, then marriage is the only path forward. Because in this world, I'm not safe until I wear his name. And strangely… that doesn't scare me.
It steadies me. Anchors me. Because I know what it means to be rootless. I've known what it feels like to belong to no one. Now, for the first time, I feel likesomeone's—not because I was bought or traded, but because I waschosen.
Byhim.
And I think, no, Iknow,I'm choosing him right back.
A little while later, after another round of dessert and champagne, I excuse myself as gracefully as I can. Enrico watches me stand, and his hand ghosts across the small of my back as I slip away. That single touch is grounding and reassuring; he's telling me he'll be right here when I return.
