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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.
We just stare at each other for a tense minute.
I feel her breaths explode over my face, her body pressed to mine as I keep her imprisoned against the counter, her chest desperately rising and falling.
When I realize my heart is hammering against my ribs, I yank away from her and stalk out of the kitchen. Reaching the elevator, I slam the button, and the moment the doors slide open, I step inside.
With my hands fisted at my sides, I take the elevator down, and when I step out, Vincenzo and Fabrizio’s heads turn in my direction from where they’re sitting in the Bentley.
“Going out?” Vincenzo asks when I climb into the back of the car.
“Yes. Take me to Franco,” I mutter. “Fabrizio, stay here and keep an eye on the woman.”
As he shoves the door open, he says, “Yes, boss.”
Vincenzo starts the engine and steers us out of the basement and onto the street.
I know my friend has his hands full with the triplets, but I need to see him.
Resting my elbow against the door, I rub my fingers over my mouth, the scene in the kitchen replaying in my mind.
I don’t know why I lost my shit. It’s unlike me. Usually I’m the calm one out of the five heads of the Cosa Nostra.
I’m the chilled and funny friend between Franco and me.
But with Skylar in my personal space, I’m finding it hard to control my rage. One look at the woman has me on the constant brink of losing my shit.
It’s because you’re faced around the clock with the woman who has Giulio’s kidney in her body.
Maybe I should just kill Skylar and Harlan and be done with it.
When Vincenzo pulls into the driveway at the back of the house, I see Marcello and Milo, Franco’s right-hand men, having a cigarette on the patio.
I throw the door open as Marcello kills the cigarette in an ashtray. His eyes lock on me, “This is a surprise.”
I can’t exchange pleasantries right now. “Where’s Franco?”
