Page 53 of Dangerous King
But not yet. There is a time and a place.The breakfast table isn't it. Not in front of Catalina. Not in front of my family. Rage is a weapon, but only when it's sharpened and timed just right.
I inhale once, long and slow, to tamp the fire down to coals. Controlled. Focused. I don't need to explode. I only need to wait. Giovanni's end is already written.
"Good morning to you too, Papà," I say dryly, keeping my tone cool and unreadable, as I swallow the fury down like poison I intend to feed someone else later.
Papà ignores the sarcasm; his eyes sweep the table like he's already displeased. "And why is there a dog on my furniture?"
"He's recovering," I say without looking up. "And behaving better than most men in this room."
Dante chokes back a laugh into his espresso, earning a narrowed look from Papà, who pointedly ignores my sarcasm. His eyes sweep the room, and when they land on Cat, his expression shifts.The sharpness eases, just slightly. The kind of softness that's usually reserved for Izzy.
"Cat," he says with a nod. He pours himself a coffee, and the weight of the room tilts. It's not approval, exactly, but in this family, it's as close as anyone gets. "What's his name?"
"Shadow," Cat replies, her voice barely above a whisper. My father must intimidate her.
"Shadow," he says, eyeing the puppy curled in her lap, "is a terrible name."
Catalina smiles shyly. "He was hiding in the shadows when I found him."
He grunts. "Still terrible. But I suppose it fits."
Dante leans back in his chair. "I can take the girls to Maison Étoile."
Somehow, that offer doesn't sit well with me. "No, I'll take them. After the meeting."
Dante's lip curves in a satisfied smile. The bastard was baiting me, and I bit the line. Damn him. Before I can answer, Shadow yips again and wriggles in Cat's arms. She strokes him instinctively, gazes down, and her whole body starts to relax.
Only for a second, though, because then my father adds, "Don Edoardo wants to see her too."
I glare up at him, "I already told the bastard?—"
My father's fist hits the table so fast and hard that cups fly off their saucers. Cat's entire body jerks, making Shadow first yelp and then growl at my father. "Do not," he raises a finger at me, "talk like that about our Don in my house."
Dante kicks me underneath the chair and shakes his head warningly. He knows I'm about to go off on our father. I still might have, if a small hand hadn't landed on top of my thigh. Cat. She doesn't look at me, but the touch is enough to bring my boiling anger down to a simmer.
I take a deep breath, controlling the churning in my gut. My voice is still pressed, but more civil than I would like it to be. "I already told ourDonthat ifhewants to talk to Cat, he has to comehere. I'm not taking her intohishouse, whereRoberto'smen lie in waiting. They kept her hostage for nearly fourteen years."
My father's temper flares, just like mine. We are too similar. "You cannot?—"
Mamma puts her hand on his arm. "That does sound reasonable, caro. Cat has been through so much."
I tilt my head, surprised by her support, but I take it. Then I challenge my father with my eyes. He thinks it over before he nods. "Fine."
"You're going to pass out if you don't breathe," Izzy says as she tightens the belt on her robe and raises a perfectly arched brow at me in the mirror.
I laugh, but it's dry and cracked at the edges. "I'm trying."
"Try harder." She tosses a brush toward the bed where I'm sitting, legs crossed, palms damp, and stomach churning. "This isn't a trial. It's an interview."
"It's not Edoardo I'm worried about."
Her expression softens instantly. "Roberto."
I nod, curling my fingers tighter into the borrowed robe. The material is thick, soft, and luxurious, like everything else in this house. Izzy walks over, pulls a chair in front of me, and sits. She'sall legs and confidence, a contradiction in motion, equal parts fire and poise.
"You're safe here," she says, and somehow it doesn't sound like a platitude. "He won't touch you."
I hug myself, her words are reassuring, but I've lived in fear for so long, that it's hard. She must see the struggle on my expression, because she continues. "My parents, me, and my brothers. We're here to protect you." She leans in, elbows to knees. "Enrico would tear Roberto or anybody apart if he so much as looked at you wrong. You know that, don't you?"
