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You can’t cry! He’ll hurt Dad.
My eyes are on fire, and my body shudders from the effort it’s taking to keep the tears back.
When I feel his thumb brush against my skin, it makes shivers spread through me. I try to pull back, but it only makes him wrap his other arm around my back, and I’m squashed to his chest.
He lowers his mouth to my ear, then whispers, “Calm your breathing, Skylar.”
I desperately suck in breaths, and pinching my eyes shut, I do my best to calm down so he’ll let go of me.
This isn’t comforting at all. I wish he’d let go.
God, I wish I’d never gotten the transplant. I’d rather die than live every day with this kind of torment.
“Shh…” he breathes against my ear.
Goose bumps erupt over my skin.
Somehow, I manage to regain control over my breathing, even though my emotions are spiraling into a hopeless pit filled with despair.
When Renzo seems to be satisfied that I’m calmer, he pulls back, but then his fingers grip my chin, and my head is forced back so I’ll look up at him.
Our eyes lock, and I see zero compassion and kindness in his predatory gaze. “Do you get panic attacks often?”
No, it’s a special effect you have on me, asshole.
I shake my head, pulling my chin from his hold.
He nods to the doorway. “Finish preparing the food so you can eat and get some rest.”
Without a word, I spin around and rush out of the bathroom. I don’t glance around Renzo’s bedroom, but hurry into the hallway. When I reach the top of the stairs, I remember Dario’s in the apartment, and I’m not sure I want to be alone with the man.
Suddenly Renzo passes me, once again startling the living hell out of me because I didn’t hear him approaching.
I quickly follow him down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Dario’s reading something on his phone. He’s sitting at the island again, and his head lifts when he hears us.
“Happy?” Renzo growls at him.
Dario’s eyes touch on the bandaid around my finger before he smiles. “Yes. It wasn’t that hard, was it?”
“Shut up,” Renzo mutters, but the brutality he has when speaking to me is gone from his tone. “Let’s sit in the living room. I don’t want Skylar losing a finger.”
When the men leave the kitchen, I suck in deep breaths, and closing my eyes, I place my hand on the tense ball of nerves that used to be my stomach.
Jesus. How am I going to survive this nightmare?
Chapter 21
Skylar
While I continue to slice the chicken and fry it in a pan, I hear the two men talking in the living room.
I add garlic and herbs to the pan as Dario says, “You missed a good ballet performance.” There’s pride in his voice. “The company I bought will soon be the best in the country.”
He owns a ballet company?
It’s hard to think a mafia boss cares about arts and culture.
“Watching a bunch of women twirling around on a stage to some boring opera piece is the last thing I’m interested in,” Renzo replies, his tone surprisingly humorous. “I’m more interested in your hacking skills. Have you found out anything new about Castellanos?”
