Page 39 of Dangerous King
I hang up and pull through the last curve in the drive as Edoardo's estate rises in front of me like some baroque fortress. Stone and steel and stained glass. A monument to power or, at least, the illusion of it.
Large iron gates are closed and guarded by six men, all wearing machine guns. I grind my jaw, slow the car down, and roll down my window to give them a good look at me, which probably isn't screaming trustworthy right now. My suit is stiffening from the blood from where a bullet grazed my shoulder earlier; it probably still needs stitching. My face is cut in several places from the flying glass and smeared with blood and dirt.
"Mister Sartori," one of the guards greets me.
"Roul," I reply, tenser than usual.
Roul waves at the others to open the gate. "The Don is expecting you." He informs me, not saying the words that I have no trouble reading in his eyes,I doubt in that condition, though. Too bad. The pampered bastard deserves a look at the weakness he's sowing among his capos. Heneedsto see it. This is the result of his incompetence in leading our families.
I park at the top of the steps. Leave the engine running. More guards eye me, but they don't stop me. They know better.
Inside, the house is too quiet. Everything is polished to a shine, from the floor to the expansive chandeliers. It's just a façade, just like Edoardo himself. I stride down the hall. The click of my shoes echoes off the shiny marble, and I notice with satisfaction that they leave bloody, dirty footprints in their wake. I push open the double doors to Edoardo's study without knocking. I dare him to call it disrespect.
Edoardo looks up from behind his desk, a glass of something expensive in hand. Roberto is creeping by the fireplace, eyes blazing at me when I enter.
"You bastard," he snarls, moving forward, as if he has the actual balls to hit me. "Where is my father?"
"No, stop!" Edoardo jumps up from his chair.
"He has my father," Roberto pouts, but stops dead in his tracks, narrowing his eyes at me. The urge to bury my fist in his smug face burns like acid in my stomach. That bastard put my sister's life in danger—and Cat's.
"Enrico," Edoardo says smoothly as if two of his capos weren't standing right in front of his desk, ready to kill each other. "You made it." The last part is seeded with sarcasm.
He eyes me, and his expression darkens. "What happened to you? You couldn't stop and get cleaned up first?"
I ignore him. "Your little attack caused a lot of attention," I spit into Roberto's face.
He raises his hands, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
A slight tick by his neck gives him away. He knows exactly what I'm talking about.
"What attack?" Edoardo asks, his voice tight with the weight of his position. He's trying to regain control, as if this room hadn't already slipped from his grasp the moment I stepped inside.
I turn my head slowly and pin him with a glare. "The mall," I bite out. "This asshole ordered his trigger-happy rejects to attack me in the middle of a crowded mall, with two of my women in the crossfire." I shift my attention back to Roberto. "Your timing'spathetic at best, your execution worse. You need to train your clowns better."
Roberto scoffs and contorts his face in mock offense. "That wasn't me."
"Bullshit." I hiss, keeping my voice low and controlled. "I recognized your pet, Davide. He squealed like the rat he was when I pulled the trigger."
I move forward, right into his face. "You still want to deny it? Want to tell me Davide moved on his own?" Roberto pales, just for a second, then a flicker of undiluted anger flashes through his eyes, and he lunges for me. My shoulder burns under the blood-caked suit, and every step sends fire through the bullet graze, but I sidestep him easily enough and put a fist into his kidney.
"You don't get to touch my family and walk away," I snarl. "You don't get to hurtmy sisterand then stand here and play innocent."
Roberto stiffens on the ground, ready to make another jump at me. "Your sister?"
"Izzy," I snap. "You remember her, don't you?"
His eyes narrow.
"Cut it out, both of you, or I'll call my guards," Edoardo yells. Even Roberto's face contorts in disgust for our Don. A real Don wouldn't threaten us with hisguards. He'd have a gun in his hand, and we'd both be lucky if we were still breathing under the impact of lead he'd put in us. I tilt my head.
Deliberately, I kick Roberto in the same kidney I just slammed with my fist while he's trying to get on all fours. "This fucker," I emphasize my words with another kick that makes Robertogroan and fish for his gun, "and his father abducted my sister last night. They kept her in his dungeon." I kick his hand before he can grab the barrel of his gun.
Edoardo flinches. Anger moves over his features, but I'm sure it's directed at me for not following his orders rather than at Roberto, who abducted my sister. Fucking weak asshole.
"That is a grave accusation. Do you have proof of this?" Edoardo slinks back into his chair, hiding behind the safety of his desk.
"My sister saw them both," I nod, stepping on Roberto's hand before he can make another grab for his gun. Hidden behind his desk, Edoardo has no clue that I'm slowly breaking Roberto's knuckles.
