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He lets out a sigh. “I figured you didn’t need me around making things harder for you, so I’m in Spain busy tracking Montes.”
“You left without telling any of us?” I ask, surprised to hear he’s halfway across the world.
“I told Damiano. The rest of you are a little preoccupied lately.”
“Sorry, brother,” I say while relaxing back in the chair. “No matter how busy I am, I always have time for you.”
“I know.” I hear him move, and the wind whistles over the line. “How are things with Skylar? You haven’t changed your mind about keeping her captive?”
“No, I haven’t,” I reply, and knowing it will make Dario stop worrying about her, I admit, “I’ve actually grown fond of the woman. She’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
“What?” he gasps. There’s a few seconds of silence, then he asks, “Are you fucking with me?”
“Not at all. Franco planted the damn seed, suggesting I should marry her so she can give me an heir. Since then, I started seeing her in a different light.”
“And how does Skylar feel about all of this?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly. “We’re getting to know each other, but she’s got a ten-foot wall around her emotions.”
“I don’t blame her. You’ve put the woman through all kinds of hell.”
Glancing up at the ceiling, I let out a sigh. “I know.”
“Want my advice?”
“Sure, why not?” I mutter, already knowing I’m not going to like it.
“Let her go. She won’t give you a snowball's chance in hell unless you let her go free.”
“Not happening,” I mutter.
“Good luck winning her over then,” Dario says. “I have to go. I’ll be in touch if I find Montes.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
Ending the call, I suck in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
I’m dead sure if I let Skylar go, I’ll never see her again. She might be attracted to me, but it doesn’t mean shit. In her eyes, I’m the villain.
I have to somehow change her opinion of me. I have to make her see I’m not just a killer and capo.
Fuck knows how I’m going to do that.
Skylar
Sitting on the couch with my arms crossed over my chest, I watch the live stream from my house.
Dad’s in the kitchen with Louisa, and they’re eating a meatloaf she threw together.
If I ever get out of here, I’m teaching Louisa how to cook.
“The food’s good. Thanks, Louisa,” Dad murmurs before he shovels a bite into his mouth.
At least he’s eating.
He looks much better since we got to see each other.
“It’s not Skylar’s cooking, but it will have to do,” Louisa replies while she loads dishes into the dishwasher. “Do you think she’s watching right now?”
