Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Bianca inspects the scar, then says, “It’s healing nicely. You can cover yourself.”
Bianca packs everything back into her bag, then glances at me again. “In two months, she’ll have to come to the clinic so they can do a kidney biopsy. I can’t perform the procedure here.”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” I reply.
“Her vitals are normal… under the circumstances,” the nurse informs me. When I lift my eyebrow, she explains, “Her heart rate is fast, and her blood pressure is low. She needs to eat and get rest.”
I can see Bianca wants to say more, so I mutter, “What else?”
“Her mental health is just as important as her physical health, Mr. Torrisi. This is a critical period after the surgery, and with too much distress, her body can reject the kidney.”
So basically, I can’t torture Skylar in any way for the next three to six months? Fuck that shit.
I stare at the nurse until she starts to squirm, then she whispers, “It’s just a clinical opinion, sir.”
“How long before she can do basic things like household chores?” I ask.
“Oh, she can start with light duties, and after four weeks, she can resume most activities.”
Nodding at the elevator, I say, “Thanks, Bianca. Let me know the results of the blood tests.”
“I will.” She glances at Skylar, who’s still sitting on the couch with her head slightly bowed.
I watch as Bianca leaves the penthouse, then my eyes flick to Skylar, and I order, “Make something to eat.”
She meets my gaze for a moment before she gets up and walks to the kitchen. I hear as she opens and closes cupboards, probably familiarizing herself with where everything is.
Turning my head, I see her pull a couple of knives from a block, and she stares at the one that could easily slice through my neck like butter.
Letting out a chuckle, I walk closer.
Skylar startles at the sound, her eyes flying to me.
My voice is low, but a hint of amusement trickles through the words as I ask, “Thinking of killing me, topolina?”
“Would it make any difference to my situation?” she asks bravely. “Your men would still kill us. Right?”
The corner of my mouth lifts in a smirk as I stop within striking distance of her. “Oh, little mouse…”
Before she can take her next breath, I grab her wrist and twist her around so her back slams into my chest. The sharp blade of the knife presses against her fluttering pulse.
Leaning my head down, I whisper, “You couldn’t kill me even if you tried.”
Chapter 20
Skylar
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.”