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I continue to just stare at him, refusing to play into his mind games.
“I’ll have to think of a creative way to get my pound of flesh. Maybe Franco was right after all.”
I begin to frown because I don’t know what he’s referring to.
Suddenly, Renzo moves away, and a second later, he switches the light on. Standing near the door his eyes sweep over my body, then he smirks.
“Yeah, I’m starting to think Franco’s onto something.”
What?
Not explaining himself, he walks out of the room, leaving me feeling confused as hell.
Shaking my head, I replay the conversation we just had while walking to the closet and pulling on a sweater.
It’s the first time Renzo’s bothered to ask me how I feel.
It’s weird.
Who’s Franco, and what is he right about?
Walking to the doorway, my teeth tug at my bottom lip. There’s no reason for me to leave my bedroom. We’ve already had dinner.
Still, Renzo seems calm and willing to talk.
Maybe I can reason with him, and if not, I might be able to plant a seed of doubt by adding to what Dario said to him last week. It’s clear it bothers him, or he wouldn’t have asked me whether I think I’m innocent.
Leaving my room, I glance at the closed door at the end of the hallway before I head toward the staircase.
Halfway down the stairs, there’s a loud crack of thunder before the penthouse is plunged into darkness.
A peep escapes me as I jerk with fright. “Crap.”
I don’t hear anything but the rain and wait a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The eerie sensation creeps down my spine, and I glance over my shoulder. Seeing Renzo’s silhouette, I say, “I’m here. Just in case you don’t see me.”
His tone is a low whisper that sends shivers racing over my body. “I see you just fine,topolina.”
My muscles instinctively tense as if they recognize the predatory tone before my brain does.
When Renzo prowls toward me, I take another step down and almost lose my footing from not being able to see shit. His arm wraps around my side, and I’m kept in place as he moves in front of me.
Renzo’s right. I’m becoming used to my new circumstances because my heart doesn’t race like crazy with fear anymore. Even though my breathing speeds up, there’s no threat of me hyperventilating.
Instead, I’m overly aware of his powerful presence as the scent of his woodsy cologne fills the air I breathe.
I’m beginning to think the man has excellent night vision because he grips my jaw and tips my head back without any effort on his part. There’s a glint of light in his eyes that makes him look even more predatory.
He presses closer to me, and with his face an inch from mine, he says, “The last thing we need is you breaking your neck on the stairs.”
In the moment that follows his words, a weird tension fills the air around us. It sizzles with electricity as if a lightning bolt is about to strike.
His head begins to lower, and I suck in a shocked breath before holding it.
What’s he planning to do?
Surely…no, he wouldn’t.
