Page 144 of Dangerous King
"Oh?" He has Toni's interest.
"He also makes inconvenient people disappear," Stephano finishes, drinking up the rest of his Blue Label.
Toni only shrugs. "Different angle. Grigori and I are above board. Private protection, elite assignments. This guy deals inshadows." Or whatever Toni considersabove board, because the company Grigori and he are opening is not only about protection from problems. Underhandedly, they will eliminate… problems.
Stephano is caught up in his phone, shaking his head. "Still…" he grins, all teeth, "I'd kill to know how he built his encryption."
"Let's hope we don't have to kill him," I mutter. "Because if Ledyanoy Prizrak is planning payback for that lost contract, we need to be ready."
Toni warns, "He got to Izzy once."
"And he won't get near her again," I say. My voice is final. "Next time he tries? He doesn't walk away."
"Shit," Stephano exclaims.
"What now?" Toni leans back.
"Matías Rivera? I was about to have Leandro pick him up; the coward is already back in LA."
"That's okay. I have my men pick him up," Toni shrugs. "About time we had a word with him about his and Edoardo's entanglements."
I nod approvingly. "Sounds like a plan."
Stephano pushes off the wall, finally stepping forward. "So what's the play? We know Marcello was set up. We know it wasn't random."
"No," I say, voice turning cold. "It was a message. One meant for all of us."
"And what's the response?"
I look both of them dead in the eye.
"We send a louder one."
A week later…
This is absolute torture. I haven't seen Cat since midnight last night, and it's now three o'clock in the afternoon. That makes it fifteen hours since I kissed her sweet lips or touched her soft skin.
"Quit fidgeting," Toni, my best man, orders.
"I can't help it," I bite back.
He grins, "Should have called the officiate to your office like I did. No fuss, no muss."
I'm about ready to swing at him when the band begins to play the wedding march. Loud enough to overpower the chirping of the birds and the low mumbling from the hundreds of wedding guests seated in our backyard. I stand up straighter, eyes leveled down to the flower petals strewn in the aisle between the myriad of chairs.
A white arch, filled with lilies and red roses, as per Cat's request, catches my focus, and I look up. Movement to the right gives me a glimpse of white lace as Cat arrives, arm in arm with her father. From that second on, I only have eyes for her.
Fuck, she's stunning. My breath catches like a punch to the ribs.
Cat steps into full view beneath the arch, her hand resting on her father's arm, and the sunlight catches in the jeweled combs tucked into her dark brown hair. It's pinned half-up, soft curls spilling down her back in a way that looks effortlessly elegant but probably took hours. Her dress clings to her upper body like a lover's hands, delicate lace over satin, every inch of it designed to tease and torment.
The bodice is embroidered with fine, almost translucent thread that shimmers when she moves, drawing the eye to the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips. The skirt flows like liquid light, layer upon layer of silk and tulle that whisper across the grass with every step she takes. Her veil trails behind her like a blessing, sheer and weightless, edged in the same lace that hugs her skin.
And her eyes—Christ, those eyes. Amber like aged whiskey, burning with nerves and joy and something fierce that makes my chest feel like it's about to crack open.
She's not just beautiful.
She's mine.
