Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I nod again, my heart pinching because I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work in a restaurant again.
Realizing Renzo might keep me captive for the rest of my life, a gloomy emotion fills my chest.
All my hopes and dreams slip through my fingers and my hands still while my eyes drift shut from the pain of losing them again.
“Are you okay?” Dario asks.
When he places his hand on my lower back, I instantly jerk away from him and almost drop the bowl.
“I said don’t touch her,” Renzo snaps at Dario before saying to me, “Finish the dressing.”
Doing my best to ignore my breaking heart, I quickly add herbs and spices to the mixture and stir it. When it’s ready, I set the bowl down on the counter and start to search through the cupboards for something to pour the dressing into.
“What are you looking for?” Renzo asks.
“A bottle or something I can use for the dressing,” I answer.
He gets up and walks to the fridge, where he takes a bottle of water out. Emptying it in the sink, he holds it out to me.
I carefully pour the dressing into the bottle then place it on the counter near Dario.
When I gather the dishes, Renzo snaps, “Leave it and go get some rest.”
Not waiting for him to change his mind, I rush out of the kitchen. When I head up the stairs, I hear Renzo say, “Stop trying to get to know the woman. She’s a fucking prisoner.”
“Your prisoner,” Dario mutters. “I’ll be friendly with her if I want to.”
“You’re looking for shit,” Renzo warns him.
“Brother, you know how I feel about all of this. Skylar did nothing wrong. You’re torturing an innocent woman.”
Hearing Dario’s words, I stop halfway up the stairs.
“Giulio’s kidney is in her fucking body,” Renzo growls angrily, intense pain shimmering in his tone.
“That’s not her fault. Kill her fucking father and let the woman go.”
Renzo’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “Don’t interfere in my business, or we’re going to have a problem.”
Too brave for my own good, I quietly take a couple of steps down and peek toward the kitchen, where I see the two men practically standing toe-to-toe.
Dario lets out a sigh, a worried expression on his face. He places his hand on Renzo’s shoulder, then says, “I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret. I’m looking out for you, brother.”
“I know what I’m doing. Stop worrying,” Renzo replies, his tone no longer harsh.
When he turns around, I dart up the stairs and rush to my bedroom.
With Dario’s visit I’ve seen a different side to Renzo. Even when he gets angry, he reins it in around his friend.
Closing the door behind me, I stare at the floor.
Dario thinks I’m innocent and doesn’t agree with Renzo holding me captive.
Holy shit. Dario might be my way out of this mess.
Chapter 22
Renzo
The past three days it’s taken some getting used to having Skylar in my place.
Mostly, she’s quiet like the little mouse she is. She only leaves her bedroom when she has to make food, and I’ve noticed she’ll spare the TV screen no more than five minutes a day. As soon as she gets a glimpse of her father, she’ll return to her room.
She never talks unless I demand a response from her, and dark circles have formed beneath her eyes which have lost their sparkle. Even when I threaten her, they don’t shimmer with fear anymore.
It’s supposed to fill me with satisfaction. This is what I wanted. The Davies family is suffering for the part they played in Giulio’s death.
Still, as I watch Skylar prepare some kind of Asian dish, the thick silence grates against my ears.
The sound of Skylar chopping vegetables is all I hear for a while, and with every passing second, I grow increasingly agitated.
My knee starts bouncing, and my shoulders tense, my eyes following the elegant movement of my little mouse’s hands while she tosses the vegetables into some kind of watery soup.
My gaze creeps over every inch of her, the dark blue dress she’s wearing today looking beautiful on her body.
I love that she wears dresses.
The intrusive thought has a frown darkening my forehead.
Skylar drops a spoon, and I notice she’s started trembling. When she knocks over the salt, she whispers, “Can you stop staring, please?”
The agitation I’ve been feeling morphs into something unknown, and before I know what I’m doing, I lunge from the chair and grab hold of Skylar. I shove her against the counter, and when her hand slaps against the granite top, she knocks an onion to the floor. I hear it roll a few feet away while my eyes lock with her terrified ones.
Still no sparkle.
Gripping her hips, I feel a tremor wrack through her.
There’s no reason for the sudden burst of anger, and I have no words to lash out with.