Page 60 of Dangerous King
I grab the wrist of his ruined hand and squeeze, cursing again as his blood gets all over me. His whole body jerks. "You're forgetting who is paying for this house. You're going to call your dogs off. You're going to lose that security footage. You're going to tell every news outlet that it was a terrorist attack. That you were misled, this wasnotmob-related."
He whimpers something I don't bother decoding.
"Use another platform for your political ambitions," I murmur, close enough that he feels it. "This one's not it."
I turn toward the maid. She hasn't moved her eyes, which are trained on me. I pick up the phone Kevin dropped and toss it to her. "Call an ambulance. He had an accident cleaning his gun," I lean low enough that our noses almost touch, "and remind him—next time, I'll bring a shovel."
"I still can't believe that place was real," I gush while Izzy and I climb out of the sleek black SUV once we get back to the mansion. She adjusts the strap of the purse she liberated from the mall shooting, which seems to have become her favorite possession.
She laughs, looping her arm through mine. "Welcome toMaison Étoile,bella. Where reality gets a designer upgrade."
"It costs a million dollars just to be a member," I say, still breathless. "Amillion. And the prices?—"
"—are only printed for the peasantry," she finishes with a smirk. "Which is why they don't bother putting them on anything."
I shake my head. The entire day has felt like a walk through a fever dream. Private elevators. Champagne while shopping.Dresses that cost more than my father's yearly salary. Yet, somehow, I walked out with enough shopping bags to match the GDP of a small country.
Under Izzy's gentle insistence and prodding, I added more things to my growing wardrobe than I felt comfortable with. But I also noticed that I didn't argue too hard. It was the most fun I've had… ever! So much so that I didn't think about my family, the Giordanos, or anybody else the entire time.
But now that I'm out of the marble-and-gold maze of excess, and my new belongings are carefully stowed away, I need air. Apparently, so does Shadow. I picked him up from the kennel, where Julio kept a watchful eye on him, and he's been dancing around my feet ever since, making me stumble to avoid kicking him a few times.
"What do you think of your new dishes?" I ask, looking at the white and gold dishes, both of which sayShadowin hand-painted black letters. He doesn't seem impressed with them. However, he seems happy that the new water bowl is nearly big enough for him to take a bath in. Following that escapade, I deposit both in the bathroom, where it's easier to clean up the tiles.
Izzy excused herself a few minutes ago, loading up her own growing closet. I pick up the new leash—Shadow wasn't impressed with his red collar either—and the puppy and I head outside toward the private park that is tucked behind the estate. It's massive, like everything else that has anything to do with the Sartoris. Like Enrico. The park and adjoining forest are quiet and, of course, walled. Shaded by towering pines and dotted with wildflowers that look too perfect to be natural.
Shadow bounds ahead of me, sniffing the grass, his tail wagging. The moment I unclip the leash, he takes off in a blur of fur and joy. Instinctively, I laugh. The sound startles even me, and I freeze. It's the first real one I've let loose in… I don't know how long.
Maybe since I was a child.
I drop into the soft grass beneath a large oak tree, curl my knees to my chest, and watch Shadow chase butterflies. He's untouched by trauma and uncaring for his healing stitches. I should probably stop him, but I don't have the heart for it. He seems too happy. Instead, I watch him and take heart from his free spirit, which reminds me of Izzy, and I wish I could be like that. Just forget and move on.
The silence here isn't threatening. It's calming. Peaceful. And most of all, safe. Enough for me to let my guard down and let the past drift. Whenever an unpleasant memory wants to break through, I take a deep breath and tilt my face up toward the sun. Allowing the warmth of it to penetrate my body, heart, and mind.
I don't hear him. Ifeelhim.
It's like a shift in the air. An awareness of his presence that crawls up the back of my neck like static. I turn my head and open my eyes. I have to shield them to look up at the massive man, looming only a few feet away, dressed in black slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a loose tie. There's something uncharacteristically undone about him. I can't quite put my finger on it. The rolled-up sleeves? His wind-mussed hair? The missing jacket? He stares down at me with an unreadable expression, eyes locked on me.
Shadow barks once, as if announcing the presence of royalty, then runs over to him. Fur and ears back, growling. Enrico bends, and Shadow goes for his hand.
"What the hell?" Enrico pulls back, and I suppress a snicker.
"Aggressive little runt, isn't he?" Enrico stares down at the dog, who is now tugging on his pant leg with his sharp puppy saber teeth.
Enrico jerks his leg back, staring at the small creature latched to the hem of his expensive slacks like he can't quite believe what's happening.
"That's a ten-thousand-dollar suit," he mutters, baffled.
Normally, I would be shocked at the thought of ten-thousand-dollar pants, but after today's shopping spree, I'm not sure I can call up the right amount of concern for the price tags the Sartoris treat like background noise. Shadow growls louder, twenty pounds of menace vibrating through his fluff. He's giving no indication of giving up or letting go.
Enrico straightens, muttering a personal attack on Shadow's entire bloodline in Italian. I can't help it; I burst into laughter. The sight of this tall, lethal man getting bested by a partially house-trained puppy in a bowtie collar is too much.
He shoots me a look. Not angry. Just… deeply, deeply offended.
"You find this funny?" He asks, lifting one dark brow.
"I find it hilarious," I giggle, hugging my knees tighter. "He's never attacked anyone before."
"That's comforting," Enrico says dryly. "I feed him, I house him, I let him piss on my imported rugs," he shakes his head in mock dramatics, "and this is how he thanks me?"
