“The noise never goes away when it appears, but having my aunt with me allowed me to sleep peacefully.” I replied with difficulty, both because I had no desire to tell him that and because the warm touch of his hand on my wrist made me restless and sent my heart racing.
“Do you think it would help if you slept here in the villa?”
I felt myself blush. The heat of his body was too close to mine to be comfortable. I freed myself from his hand and returned to the space between the kitchen island and the countertop, cleaning the espresso machine with clumsy hands. I didn't like how I felt in this man's presence. The way he made me feel safe, almost as if I was home.
Because he was anything but that.
He wanted to kill me, and I'd better never forget that. Besides, he spent the previous night out, probably with some woman.
Everything about him smelled of danger.
“Daisy?”
My hands froze under the running water. I stopped, staring at him over the island where the sink was, sprawled in his chair like a predator about to pounce. My name, in his voice, was the last thing I wanted to hear.
“Yes?”
“I asked you a question.” He purred. “Do you want to come live inside the villa?”
A tiny rage invaded my chest.
“May I ask why this sudden kindness?” I fired back, drying my hands on a cloth that I felt like throwing in his face. "Is this some kind of torture? Treating your future victim kindly?"
He sat up straight in his chair, his expression hardening. “I thought we were past the tantrum stage.”
“’Tantrum stage’?!” I laughed sarcastically. He had some nerve. “Every day I'm forced to call my family and put on a show convincing enough to make them think I'm fine. Every day I wake up not knowing if it will be my last. If I'm going to die or live to see another season. As far as I’m concerned, I’m your prisoner, so I'm sorry if I don't like it one bit that you're making a fool of me with your fake kindness.”
Camillo crossed his arms over his chest, the tattoos outlining his broad biceps and disappearing under the short sleeves of his T-shirt. He leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised in my direction.
“Are you done?” Those words awakened a deep resentment in me that made me wonder if it would be a bad idea to stab him. “I don't want you to live in fear. For the time you have left, I want you to relax, to enjoy the wonders of this land while you can.”
“Olivia told me that the police already closed the case. That it's been ruled a suicide.” I pointed, my heart strangled by everything that had happened in the last few days, anger clouding my thoughts. “I suppose you're going to kill me soon.”
“Daisy—”
“Why don't you just get it over with? Why wait so long?”
“Daisy, listen to me…”
"Couldn't you just shoot me and leave me in the middle of the road? Or, I don't know, throw me into a hole in hills! Make it look like an accident! Or—"
“DAISY!” He growled, rising suddenly and slamming his fist down on the tabletop, silencing me. “Enough! When the time comes, believe me, you'll know. For now, do as I say and live.”
I laughed dismissively and wrapped my arms around my body. “Sure. ‘Live’. As if I could live in this place. I can't even go for a run without asking permission.”
He watched me, his expression impossible to read. “Because it'sdangerous.” Each word was drawn out. "Don't complicate a situation that's already difficult. There's no reason to live in fear or anger. We're not enemies, Daisy."
“Yes, we are. From the moment you promised to kill me, we're nothing else but enemies.” I fired back, pointing a finger athim, and saw his gaze darken. “And stop calling me by my name. I don't like it.”
Camillo lunged as soon as those last words left my lips, circling the island in seconds, advancing with long strides, and I stumbled backward until my butt hit the counter. Faced with his wolf-like gaze, which seemed to shine through the shadows, I wondered if he intended to hurt me.
His actions answered that question.
He pressed his body against mine, caging me in with his arms on either side, his hands braced on the counter, trapping me like a predator with its prey.
I swallowed hard.
“You ‘don’t like it’?” He growled in a tone that was too low, those pieces of jade on his face seemed to burn, and I lifted my chin, standing my ground. “But you keep insisting that other men call you Daisy. Or do you think I wasn’t informed?”
