Page 27 of Dangerous King
But then something shifts. Her jaw tightens, and her back straightens. The fear is still there, but it's layered now with resolve. Understanding blooms in her amber eyes—she knows she has something I want.
And she's going to use it.
"I want to talk to my parents," she says. Her voice is quiet but steady. It's not a plea, it's a demand.
I almost smile. Amused, I cross my arms over my chest. "I already promised you I'd take care of them."
"Forgive me," she says, lifting her chin, "but trust is something I can't afford right now, not when it involves my parents."
Goddamn. She's afraid. But she's also refusing to be small. A chuckle moves through my chest. She might be the bravest person I've met in years. I'm not just intrigued by her any longer, I'm impressed. Not many people manage to impress me anymore. Especially not ones that are this young.
"Will you trust me long enough so that we can finish this conversation and then you can call your family, piccola?" I ask, testing her resolve.
Her eyes flicker when I saypiccola.She caught the meaning, little one, but doesn't know what to do with it. It's not patronizing. Not from me. It's a promise and a warning wrapped in one.
She studies me for a moment. Weighing her answer like it might change her life. She's not wrong. After a beat, she nods. Barely. But it's there.
"Good," I say. "Then tell me everything else you know about Donna Margarita. I need facts. Patterns. Anything, no matter how unimportant you think it is."
While she's still thinking, I run a hand down my jaw, processing Donna Margarita and the implications. Most of us have treated her like a relic for the past decade—beautiful, poised, proper. But she's always had too much sway over Giovanni for my liking. I always suspected she married her daughter Isabella into the Zanello family to move chess pieces no one else could see. Ambition runs in her veins, and now it's clear—she's far more dangerous than any of us gave her credit for.
In a way, she's a perfect match for Edoardo—ambitious, calculating, dangerous. He seized power the moment his father died, riding a wave of chaos. He was too young, too green. Under normal circumstances, he never would've been accepted as our Don. Traditionally, the Don title passes from father to son, but when the heir is unfit—or in the case of avoto di sfiducia—vote of no confidence—another family can rise. Unfortunately, Leonardo died at the worst possible moment: La Famiglia was at war with the Venezuelans. We couldn't afford a power vacuum or a civil war. So we gave the crown to Edoardo out of desperation.
And we've been paying the price ever since.
"I don't know everything," Cat interrupts my musings. "She kept most of her business out of sight."
"But you saw more than you think," I reply. "You've been in that house for years. You were invisible. And people forget the invisible ones are listening."
Her lips part slightly. I can almost see the moment it hits her—not power, not exactly, butusefulness. For the first time in her life, she isn't just surviving. She isn't being used. She'ssignificant.
She knows things no one else does. Suddenly, her silence all those years—her observation, her endurance—matter now. A flicker burns in her eyes. It's not pride, not exactly. Not yet. But awareness. The faintest breath of purpose taking root in someone who's only ever existed in the margins—someone who was always owned, but neverseen.
"Then let me speak," she says, quietly but firmly, making me even prouder of her.
I incline my head. "Speak."
"She always has her phone with her. She's always typing into it, looking things up. And she trusted Giovanni with nothing. I think… I think she used him as cover. Let him play boss while she made the real decisions behind the curtain."
My jaw tightens. It tracks. Everything tracks.
"And what about now?" I prod to see how far her conclusions will take her. "What do you think she'll do next?"
"She'll go to Don Edoardo. She will try to twist the story. She'll say Izzy was a plant, or bait. That you orchestrated this to… to… I don't know why." She admits the last, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and astonishment that she said these things.
A smile parts my lips even though I really have nothing to smile about. Fires are burning everywhere around me, and I'm sitting here… with this woman… doing what exactly? Brainstorming? About Donna Margarita? I should be doing this with Silvano, not her. But for the first time in a long time, I'm actually enjoying myself. Talking to Cat is like going out and enjoying a fresh breeze after being inside a stifling room for too long.
I sit back and consider her words; my hand drifts to the edge of the table, where I tap my fingers.
She leans in, voice quieter. "If you don't get ahead of her, she'll make you the villain."
Smart girl.
"She already tried," I fill her in, even though I have no reason to. "Roberto called Edoardo crying for retribution."
Her mouth opens slightly. "Because you have Giovanni?"
It was stupid of me to tell her that, to give her leverage like this. It's a gamble I would have never taken with anybody else. Not when so much hangs in the balance. But I'm also curious, curious to see what she'll do with that information. "Nobody knows about that," I warn her, telling her that she has leverage now. It's a stupid move, and yet, I cannot help myself. I want to know what she'll do. "If the Giordanos find out Giovanni is still alive, it'll cause all kinds of… problems."
