It’s difficult focusing on cooking with Renzo sitting by the island and watching me like a hawk.
I’m in a constant state of fear, and whenever I manage to calm down a little, Renzo does something to terrify the hell out of me.
I’ve never encountered anyone like him – a monster with no humanity at all.
Just as I think the thought, I hear the elevator doors open, and a moment later, an attractive man with light brown hair and brown eyes, the color of melted chocolate, walks into the kitchen.
When his eyes land on me, he comes to a stop, and pushing his hands into his pockets, he just stares at me.
My eyes dart between the man and Renzo, then Renzo mutters, “Smile, fucker. I’m finally going to eat healthy.”
Again, my eyes dart between them, every muscle in my body on high alert while I grip the knife tightly.
“Yeah, this is not what I meant when I said you need to eat healthier,” the man says as he turns his attention from me to Renzo. “You seriously brought her to your penthouse?”
“Don’t look surprised, Dario. I said I would,” Renzo answers.
Dario lets out a sigh before heading in my direction. My eyes widen, and my heartbeat speeds up dangerously fast, but then he walks past me and makes his way to the fridge where he helps himself to a can of soda.
He leans back against a counter as he opens the can, and only after taking a sip, he says, “I hope she’s making enough for three. I’m dying to taste her cooking.”
“She’s the one holding the knife.” Renzo’s eyes settle on me. “You better ask her.”
Dario pushes away from the counter, and his gaze flicks to the knife in my hand before locking with mine, then he says, “Hi, bellissima. I’m Dario La Rosa, someone who’s unfortunate enough to call Renzo my friend.”
When he reaches a hand out and waits for me to shake it, I just stare at him.
If he’s Renzo’s friend, then I’m going to assume he’s just as dangerous.
“Dario is one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra,” Renzo informs me.
My assumption was right.
I grip the knife even tighter because having two ruthless mafia bosses with their attention focused on me is twice as terrifying.
Dario’s mouth curves into a hot smile with a hint of playfulness. “Relax, bellissima. I’m the nice one.”
“Stop calling her beautiful,” Renzo suddenly growls, something possessive in his tone.
Dario lets out a burst of laughter before moving away from me and taking a seat at the island. His eyes settle on Renzo, a mischievous expression making him seem friendly.
“Hmm…Possessive much?” he taunts Renzo.
I hold my breath with growing apprehension as I watch the interaction.
“Fuck off,” Renzo growls, then he levels me with a threatening glare. “You should be cooking.”
My eyes snap back to the chicken breast I’m slicing into thin strips to make a chicken salad with a drizzled honey and mustard dressing.
“You’re going to give the woman a heart attack long before she dies of kidney failure,” Dario drawls as if he’s mentioning the weather.
“Is there a reason for your visit?” Renzo snaps angrily.
Jesus. Don’t poke the beast when he wants to rip my head off.
My hand trembles as I continue slicing the chicken breast. Not paying attention to what I’m doing, there’s a sharp sting as the knife nicks my finger.
“Ouch,” I whisper before I can stop myself and quickly move to the sink to hold the bleeding cut beneath cold water.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Dario mutters.
When I hear him moving closer, my heart jumps to my throat, and my breathing becomes rapid puffs of hot air.
He reaches for my arm but stops when Renzo barks, “If you touch her, we’re going to have a problem.”
“Then you better take care of the cut,” Dario snaps. “Or I will. She can’t get an infection. It will jeopardize the transplant.”
The air tenses, and I close my eyes, waiting for the bomb to detonate.
“You’re testing my patience,” Renzo mutters.
I hear his chair scrape over the tiles, and a moment later, I’m grabbed by my arm and yanked to the side. I almost lose my balance from the sudden movement, my eyes popping wide open.
Renzo drags me up the stairs, his steps much larger than mine.
From all the tension and fear, tears burn my eyes and threaten to fall, but I bite them back, remembering he said he’d make Dad pay for each tear I spill.
By the time he drags me into the bedroom I assume is his, I’m a second away from having a panic attack.
Where my room is decorated in light gray and cream, Renzo’s is all black.
Just like his heart.
I’m yanked into the ensuite bathroom that’s twice the size of the one in my bedroom and brought to a jarring stop by the counter.
The scent of his woodsy cologne is much stronger in the bathroom, making me overly aware of the powerful man as he shoves my hand beneath a cold spray of water.
While my blood spirals down the drain, Renzo takes a first aid kit from the cupboard and opens it.
He manhandles my hand as he dries the cut before cleaning it with an antiseptic wipe. My eyes are locked on his fingers as he removes a Bandaid from its packaging.
I’m losing my mind because noticing he has attractive hands is definitely not something I should be doing right now.
He wraps the bandaid around the tip of my finger, then his eyes snap to my face, and I feel a gut punch from him looking at me while there’s so little space between us.
“Slow your breathing,” he orders in a biting tone.
It’s only then I realize I’m practically hyperventilating.
My vision grows spotty from all the unbearable tension, and I struggle to calm down.
He lets out an annoyed sigh, then his fingers wrap around the side of my neck, and I’m tugged against his chest.
I’m so freaking stunned by the act of kindness it rattles the hell out of me. And it doesn’t help one bit to calm me down, but instead, it has the opposite effect on me.
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?
