Page 14 of Dangerous King
I hug myself tighter.
"He'll keep you safe," Izzy assures me, squeezing my hand.
"I hope so," I whisper. "I really, really hope so."
"He's going to be our next capo," she continues, all confidence. "Nobody will dare stand in his way."
Slowly, the pieces click together; I've overheard talk about Enrico before between Giovanni and his mother or his son. The Sartori family is very powerful in this city. Camilla had even gushed about Enrico, telling me how handsome he was and that one day she would marry him.
Camilla… never again will I have to listen to her shrill voice, be belittled and tortured by her. Never again will I have to dance to any whim of hers. Never again.
I like the sound of that.
Ever since I set foot in Giovanni's house, she's tortured me in one way or another. Whatever happens, at least I won't have to put up with that.
She went to her grandma's this morning to attend some social event she didn't want me to go to with her. She used to love showing me off to her friends. She used to get a kick out of having them all laugh at me, but she stopped two years ago, the day Stephano Conti asked to take me out on a date. I've always been forced to wear Camilla's hand-me-downs, but since thatday, she's made sure that the clothes she's given me were meant for a sixty-year-old, ugly, too big, ripped, or stained.
I was sent to the same high school as Camilla, likely so she could keep an eye on me, but we moved in completely different circles—if you could even call mine a circle. Most of the kids there were born into money, ambition, and names that carried weight in courtrooms and boardrooms. High-society brats with designer bags and bloodlines as thick as their egos. They figured out fast that I was a nobody. No last name worth name-dropping. No reason to befriend me unless they needed someone to copy off of.
I spent a lot of time alone, hiding in the library or behind a screen. I got good grades because there was nothing else to do. I got into fashion because it was one of the few things that made me feel like I had some kind of control, some kind of self.
Pinterest boards became my secret rebellion. A thousand outfits I'd never wear. Rooms I'd never decorate. A life that didn't belong to me, but that I could still design piece by piece.
And maybe that's how I survived. Not by fighting back—not in ways anyone would notice—but by building small corners of freedom in my mind. A folder of saved designs. A favorite book hidden under floorboards. A moment of silence in the chaos. The Giordanos never broke me. They tried. But they couldn't touch the parts of me they couldn't see. I learned how to speak without being noticed. How to move without drawing attention. How to exist without giving them anything real to take from me. And even now, I still know who I am. Quiet isn't the same as weak. And surviving isn't the same as surrendering.
We were supposed to go to college this year. I guess that's not going to happen for me, now. Not that I'm worried aboutthat. Too many other things are on my mind. Namely, that the Escalade is now pulling up in front of a palatial mansion. A large fountain sits in front of it, surrounded by the circular driveway. Discreetly placed floodlights illuminate the flowing water in a tasteful light blue. I count five tiers, each becoming smaller as it goes up. Each tier is decorated with carvings of aquatic life. It's beautiful.
A guard opens the door, and Izzy hops out first. "Come, I could use a cocktail, or something stronger," she waves me to follow her.
I count ten marble stairs leading up to the main entrance double doors. They look thick. Metal plating gives them a rustic look.
"Izzy!" A guy shouts, storming forward and grabbing Izzy by her waist, swinging her in a circle. "He found you."
The newcomer bears a striking resemblance to Enrico with his dark hair and towering stature.
"Cat, this is Dante, another of my brothers."
I nod at him, not knowing what to say.A pleasure to meet you? It just doesn't sound right, given our situation.
More SUVs pull up. Enrico gets out of a monstrous car that looks more like a tank.
"Get Doc to look at the injured," he barks at the man following him, the one who was with him before. Then he walks over to me and grabs me by the elbow. "Come, we need to talk."
"Be nice," Izzy scolds as she and Dante follow us through the grand foyer. It looks palatial. Or maybe like a museum, but in a good way. The white marble floor is interrupted by golden veins, the same gold that is repeated in moss green columns.
A chandelier the size of a small car hangs from a high ceiling, which has to be twenty feet up or more. Small niches are carved into several places on the round walls, filled with antique-looking carved stone heads that are discreetly illuminated.
Two half-round staircases lead up to the second floor; the banisters are also made of white marble. The thick green carpet in the center of each step catches my eye. This mansion looks like it was built for royalty.
I count three dark mahogany doors leading off the entrance, and two hallways split behind the stairs. Enrico pulls me down the one to the right. Straight into what obviously is his office.
It smells of whiskey, leather, and a lingering scent of tobacco, making my eyes water as I remember my father smoking thick cigars in his office. I had loved that smell as a kid.
A massive desk with carved columns at the four corners sits in front of a paneled window. Deep red curtains are drawn so that I can't look outside. To my right is a large fireplace with a seating arrangement surrounding it, and the wall to my left is filled with leatherbound books. The shelves go all the way up from the floor to the ceiling. I would love to hold one of the books and see what they are, but Enrico gently leads me to one of the leatherbound chairs, and I take a seat.
Dante pulls Izzy close to him, and together they take the sofa, while Enrico takes another chair, and the man who has been by his side the whole time fills glasses with an amber liquid, offering the drinks around. When he reaches me, he smiles, "Silvano."
"Cat," I mumble, taking the offered drink, "thank you."
