Page 77 of Dangerous King
While she slips behind a screen—a screen! Who has a screen in their closet?—to change, I wander toward the vanity, running a finger lightly over the perfume bottles and delicate jewelry boxes. My reflection looks… different here. It takes me a moment to realize that it's the lightning, which imitates candlelight, making everything softer.
"By the way," I call, "thank you again. For hosting my family. For all of this. I know it's… a lot."
Eliza steps out wearing the gown, straightening it at the waist before turning to look in the mirror. I was right, the color sets a sheen to her skin that makes it look like a painting. "It's no trouble at all. Truly. Ilikeyour family. And I really likeyou."
Her voice softens, as if she means it more than she's willing to say outright. Then, after a moment, she sighs and sits at the edge of the chaise lounge.
"I suppose I shouldn't say this, but… Enrico's always been different. He's the firstborn, you know. Groomed from the start to take over the family one day. Everything was always about the responsibility.The name. The legacy."
I nod slowly, even as my heart sinks in my chest. Of course, he was. I fear I might know where she is going with this.
"He takes it all so seriously," she continues. "Has ever since he was a boy. Never gave us trouble, never questioned the weight we placed on him. But there are… expectations. You understand. One day, he's supposed to marry a mafia princess. Someone with connections. Power. A strategic alliance, not just a love match."
My breath catches. There it is. The warning. I can see it in her eyes, too. I keep my face still, my fingers fuss with a delicate Dior clutch on the side table so she doesn't see how much those words gut me.
Of course he is.
What did I think? That the future capo of the Sartori family would settle down with a girl like me? A rescued hostage with secondhand dreams and a mangled past? I'm just a silly girl with silly hopes. A few stolen moments. A kiss I haven't stopped thinking about. His hands in my hair. His breath on my lips. A man ten years older than me.
But God, thatkissand the naughty things he did to my body in the water. How is a girl just to forget about that? Go on with her life? I'm aware that I don't have any experience when it comes to sex, but I know with absolute certainty that no man will ever make my body sing the way he did.
I press the edge of my nails into my palm until it stings, fighting the tears that want to flow and calling myself stupid again. Perhaps Camilla was right; perhaps I am just a spoiled little girl who can never be grateful for what I've been given. I should be grateful that I'm finally with my family again. A dream I've harbored since I was taken away from them has come true. I should be ecstatic. And I am. I really am. But the problem is, I want more. I want it all.
Always more, right, Cat?Camilla's mocking voice echoes in my head. She was right. I still want more. After having my freedom and my family, it's still not enough for me.
"Cat?" Eliza asks, eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you alright?"
I force a smile. "Yeah. Just thinking… this," I gesture at the dress she's wearing, "would be even better with these crystal-drop earrings."
Eliza disappears behind the screen again, but her voice floats out, thoughtful now. "He's different with you, you know."
I blink. "What?"
She reappears with a different pair of shoes in hand, holding them up against the gown, then sets them aside again. "Enrico. He's showing a side I've never seen before. Not even when he was younger."
I try to keep my face neutral, my voice light. "Different how?"
Eliza doesn't smile this time. She sits down again, smoothing the fabric over her legs, her tone quieter now. "Softer. Lighter. I've seen him smile more in the past week than in the last five years combined. And not the polite kind. Real smiles."
My heart thumps so hard I fear she can hear it.
"He seems…" She trails off, searching for the word, then settles on "happier. And that matters more to me than alliances or bloodlines. I've always wanted my son to be many things—but most of all, I want him to bewhole."
I can't look at her. Because if I do, I think I'll fall apart. I know what she's talking about. Over the last few days, something has started forming between us, a kind of quiet rhythm.
Most evenings, after everything settles down, Enrico and I go for walks together, just the two of us and Shadow. Sometimes, I stay and watch while he trains the older dogs. Enrico is always focused, precise, commanding… and Shadow, despite being too young and clumsy, tries to imitate the grown shepherds. It makes Enrico laugh—actually laugh—and once, I caught him calling the puppylittle soldier.
Those are the moments I feel closest to him. When the world softens at the edges, and it's just the three of us. Like maybe—just maybe—this strange new life could be real.
My heart thumps even harder, and I throw a surreptitious look at Eliza to see if she can hear it, but I can't look straight at her. Because if I do, I worry I'll fall apart. My throat tightens. A part of me wants to believe what she's saying. But another part—louder, crueler—keeps whispering that I'm the reason he's vulnerable. That I'm distracting him. That I'm a weakness he can't afford.
"He shouldn't change because of me," I murmur.
Eliza tilts her head. "Why not?"
"Because this life doesn't allow softness," I say, barely louder than a breath.
A silence falls between us.
