Page 139 of Dangerous King
All of us stare at him, open-mouthed. Izzy catches herself first. "Move up? What do you mean, move up? We just started?—"
"Next week," he says, his voice clipped, low, and final. "That's the deadline."
Izzy presses her fists into her hips, challenging her brother, but she keeps her voice low and patient, like she's talking to a toddler. "Enrico, planning a wedding takes time. These things can't just be rushed?—"
"They can," he cuts in, gaze flicking toward me. "They will."
Eliza stands too, calm as always, but I can see the flicker of steel behind her poise. "That's a very sudden demand. May we ask why?"
Enrico doesn't blink. "Because I said so."
Izzy scoffs. "Oh, that'll go overgreaton the invitations.Come celebrate eternal love—scheduled by decree."
"Enough," Enrico snaps, his voice darker now. "There are reasons. None of them concern the guest list or the flower budget."
Eliza narrows her eyes slightly. "If it concerns Catalina's safety, then it concerns me."
"It does," he says, still looking only at me. "But that's not the only reason."
Sabine lowers her swatches. Izzy slowly sits back down, watching her brother with unusual seriousness.
I rise to my feet. "What happened?"
Enrico exhales hard enough through his nose to make his nostrils flare. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, and for the first time since the door burst open, I realize he's not angry. He's shaken.
"Marcello was shot," he says flatly. "Yesterday."
A soft gasp escapes me before I can stop it. My heart flips, cold and fast. "What? Oh my God. Is he—he's alive?"
Enrico nods, but it's tight. "Barely. He was shot several times, once in the head."
My chest constricts. Marcello… the man who saved my parents. I haven't met him, but I owe him my gratitude. Dio mio. I press a hand to my stomach, willing it to stop turning.
"Oh, Enrico," I whisper. "Areyouokay?"
He looks at me—just for a beat—and something breaks behind his eyes.
"No," he admits, so quietly I almost miss it.
My mother stands abruptly and crosses herself. "Marcello? The man who… rescued us?" she whispers, and I see her hands trembling.
"Yes," Enrico says, his voice low again. "It's a warning. And if they're coming after Marcello, they're not far from coming for us."
My mother frowns, her hands fluttering like she's arguing with God in her head. "Then move the wedding. Immediately! What are you waiting for?"
"Mamma—" I begin, but she cuts me off with a look.
"No, we're not going to wait," she says, stabbing a finger toward the floor. "These people, they won't wait. But you—you waste time on flowers? On colors?"
"Lori—" Eliza begins, gently, trying to temper the moment.
But Mamma rounds on her. "No, no,scusami, signora. I mean no disrespect. But this is dangerous, I can feel it, deep in my bones."
She looks at me again. "You marry him now, Catalina. You take this man," she jabs her finger at Enrico, "and you bind him to you like Saint Joseph to la Madonna. Family is a shield.
The room is silent for a long breath.
Enrico's voice cuts through it, quieter now. "I don't want anyone targeting her. Not after yesterday. Not after what happened in the mall. We thought it would be enough to keep her in the house. It's not."
