It’s been two weeks since I took Skylar, and as I watch the live stream on the TV screen, it’s clear Harlan Davies is losing his mind.
Unshaven, disheveled, and losing weight, the man looks like death.
My eyes flick to Skylar where she’s cleaning the kitchen after we just had dinner.
With an annoyed sigh, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Carlo’s number.
“Yes, boss?” he answers.
“Take two men and bring Harlan Davies to the warehouse,” I order.
“On it, boss.”
I end the call and walk to the kitchen. Ripping the dishcloth from Skylar’s hand, I grab her wrist and pull her toward the elevator.
I hear her startled gasp and how her breaths speed up, but she doesn’t ask what’s happening.
We step into the elevator, and when the doors close, I press the button for the basement. Without thinking my hand slides down her wrist until my fingers wrap around her slender ones.
I feel her hand tremble in mine and mutter, “I’m taking you to see your father.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes widening with disbelief.
“You’ll have thirty minutes to visit with him while I take care of some business. Fuck up, and I won’t allow another visit.”
She nods quickly, her eyes still wide on me.
“I’m doing this so you don’t fucking die of depression,” I add so she doesn’t make the mistake of thinking I care about her.
During the power outage last week, I almost fucked up. I was a second away from kissing the woman just because Franco and Dario got into my head.
Fucking little shits.
Still, Franco’s words keep popping into my mind at the most random times, and I find myself thinking more and more of Skylar as a woman and less as a prisoner.
My little captive might just turn out to be my downfall if I’m not careful.
The elevator doors slide open, and I tug Skylar out of it. Vincenzo and Fabrizio quickly get out of the Bentley, giving me questioning looks.
I open the back door and don’t even have to give an order for Skylar to get in. She pulls her hand from mine, and while she climbs into the back of the car, I glance at my men and say, “We’re going to the warehouse.”
I get in beside Skylar and don’t miss the emotional smile wavering around her lips.
When Vincenzo starts the engine, Skylar whispers, “Thank you.”
Turning my head, I stare at her beautiful face. There are still dark circles beneath her eyes. I was getting worried, but Bianca assured me after the last checkup that Skylar’s doing well and the kidney is functioning as it should.
Her eyes meet mine, and we stare at each other for a moment before I glance away.
I become aware of my heart beating a little faster and try to ignore the fucking organ.
The ride to the warehouse is filled with silence, but I feel the excitement coming in waves from Skylar and soon find myself looking at her again.
Her bottom lip is being tortured by her teeth, and her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. Her hands tremble where they’re clasped together on her lap.
When Vincenzo brings the Bentley to a stop, Skylar’s eyes turn to me. She hesitates for a moment, then says, “You said if I cry, you’ll make my father pay for each tear.”
I forgot I said that to her.
Her tone is soft as she pleads, “I’m not sure I can hold back the tears when I see him. Please don’t hurt him.”
Fuck, she’s asking permission to cry, and it hits me square in the chest.
Unable to speak, I just nod before I shove the door open and climb out of the car.
Skylar’s right behind me as I walk into the warehouse. I glance around the open space that’s slowly filling with crates as we get ready for a shipment that’s due for Somalia.
Walking into the office that’s become Elio’s second home since I took Skylar, I find my right-hand man hard at work.
“Do you ever go home?” I ask.
His head snaps up, then he leans back in the chair and sighs. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
His eyes move between Skylar and me.
“I’ll only be here for half an hour or so.”
Skylar keeps glancing at the entrance to the warehouse, her breaths already coming fast.
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be back so we can talk business,” I say to Elio before I take Skylar’s hand and pull her toward the steps.
As I head to the room we usually use to torture some poor fuck for information, I suddenly change direction and take her to one of the empty offices.
Pulling her inside the dusty room, I don’t let go of her hand and tug her closer. Her head tilts back, her eyes sparkling like they used to.
Just the thought of spending time with her father is enough to breathe life back into her gaze.
I’ve missed that fucking sparkle.
The thought catches me off guard and I quickly let go of her hand.
I sound agitated as fuck when I say, “Wait here.”
Skylar nods, and her eyes follow me out of the office.
Walking toward the steps, I stop by the metal railing and placing my hands on it, I stare down at the lower floor where my men are hard at work.
I hear a car pull up, and turning my attention to the entrance, I watch as Carlo and Emilio pull Harlan from the vehicle before shoving him into the warehouse.
My eyes follow the man as he’s forced through the warehouse and up the steps. Carlo brings him to a stop a couple of feet away from me. Letting go of the railing, I turn to Harlan and take in his sorry state.
“You have thirty minutes,” I mutter.
Harlan’s eyes snap to my face, and I see the hatred burning in them.
He wishes he could kill me.
I let out a chuckle. “Don’t fuck this up for Skylar. She’s really looking forward to seeing you.” Unable to resist fucking with the man, I add, “I’d hate to see my woman upset.”
Harlan’s eyes widen with a mixture of rage and disbelief.
I nod toward the office, and Carlo shoves Harlan so he’ll move.
The moment Harlan enters the office, I hear a strangled sob from Skylar. “Daddy!”
I walk closer to the door, and locking eyes with Carlo, I say, “You can leave.”
As Carlo heads back to the steps, I watch Skylar and Harlan hugging each other. They’re just crying, not saying a word.
I leave the door open, and walking a couple of feet away, I lean back against the wall so I can listen to their conversation.
For the longest moment, all I hear is Skylar crying. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I lower my head and stare at the metal landing beneath my feet.
The uncontrollable rage I felt toward Skylar has faded over the past two weeks, but the sight of Harlan still pisses me off.
“Are you okay?” I hear Harlan ask.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” She takes a shuddering breath. “You don’t look okay. I never see you eating.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I can see and hear you on a live stream. Renzo somehow planted cameras in the mansion. The kitchen, living room, my bedroom, and by the staircase. I get to see you and Louisa.”
There’s a moment’s silence again, then Skylar whispers, “You need to eat. Stop sitting in my bedroom. It breaks my heart seeing you like that.”
Harlan doesn’t respond to what his daughter just said but instead asks, “Has he hurt you?”
“No. Not once. I spend my days cooking and watching the live stream.”
Oh, so my little mouse has been watching the live stream more than I thought.
“He also has a nurse come over to give me my regular checkups. Considering I’m being held captive, it isn’t so bad.”
Her words should upset me because I want her to suffer, not feel like she’s on some fucking vacation.
Instead, the corner of my mouth lifts.
A commotion downstairs pulls my attention away from the reunion, and I quickly walk to the metal staircase.
