The Mafia King’s Doll

Renzo

Feeling a hell of a lot better since I killed Constellanos, I’m calmer when it comes to Skylar.

With Dario and my men searching the globe for Servando Montes, I took some time to check on my mother before she left to visit her cousins in Sicily.

Standing in the living room with a tumbler of whiskey in my hand, I stare out the floor-to-ceiling window, not actually taking in the scenery of the city skyline.

I hear Skylar’s soft footsteps as she comes down the stairs, and turning around, my eyes follow her to the kitchen.

I finish the last of the whiskey and set the glass down before I head to the kitchen. She’s busy taking ingredients from the fridge.

I sit down on one of the chairs by the island so I can watch her cook. No amount of torture will have me admitting out loud that I like watching her prepare food for us.

“What are you making for lunch?” I ask as I rest my forearms on the granite top.

“Lamb rib eye with garlic and sage roasted potatoes,” she replies. She sets the meat down on the counter then looks at me. “It was my mom’s favorite.”

A smile tugs at her mouth, and as I stare at her like a dumbstruck idiot, it widens.

Her tone sounds friendly when she adds, “I hope you’ll like it.” Seeing her smile does weird things to my insides. Especially my heart.

‘You could always marry her, and she could give you the heir you lost.’

Franco’s words shoot through my mind, making a frown form on my face.

Skylar’s smile disappears, and suddenly looking nervous, she focuses on prepping the meat.

Realizing I’m not happy because she’s back to being nervous, the frown on my face darkens.

The fuck?

Why do I care whether she smiles or not?

It’s that fucking thought Franco planted. Since then, I’ve been struggling to remember Skylar’s my prisoner.

My eyes follow every movement from her. I take in the pink dress she’s wearing, and my gaze stops on her bare feet.

She looks like she belongs in my kitchen.

Suddenly, Skylar says, “Is there something you don’t like to eat? Any allergies?”

I let out a chuckle. “Why? So you can make sure to feed me whatever I’m allergic to?”

She shakes her head and glances over her shoulder. “I’d never do that. I just want you to enjoy the meals.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “No allergies.”

I watch her work for a while, then she asks, “So, what do you like to eat?”

Is the sudden interest because I hugged her last week?

I’ve been ignoring the elephant in the room since it happened, especially how good it felt when she hugged me back.

“Don’t get Stockholm syndrome,” I mutter. “What?”

“It’s when you show affection or attachment to your kidnapper,” I explain.

“I know what it means,” she replies. “And just because I want to make something you’ll enjoy eating doesn’t mean I’m growing attached. I’m not stupid.”

My eyebrow lifts, and I’m not happy when there’s a sense of disappointment in my chest.

Why does it matter whether she grows attached or not?

While I watch her peel potatoes, my heart begins to beat faster as I process what’s happening.

Fuck.

Don’t, Renzo.

Lifting a hand, I wipe my palm over my face as I suck in a deep breath. Do I like the woman?

No, why would I?

Needing to test the unwelcome theory, I get up and move around the island. Skylar’s eyes dart to me, and she sets the potato and knife down on the counter.

She doesn’t take a step back when I stop in front of her.

Staring at her, I focus on how she makes me feel while taking in every single inch of her beautiful face.

The first thing I notice is the current of attraction running between us.

Is it one-sided?

The attraction is quickly followed by an urge to touch her.

Lifting my hand, I brush my finger along her jaw. Her lips part in response to my touch, but I can’t read her eyes.

Do I like this woman?

Yes.

The realization has me pulling my hand away from her. Her voice is soft as she asks, “Is something wrong?”

Yes. Something is very fucking wrong. This was not supposed to happen.

“Fucking, Franco,” I mutter.

This is because of the seed he planted when he mentioned I should marry her.

She shakes her head, a frown forming on her forehead. “I don’t understand.”

Moving away from her before I do something I’ll regret, I walk out of the kitchen and head to my bedroom.

I slam the door shut behind me, and pushing my fingers through my hair, I suck in a deep breath.

What the fuck do I do now?

I begin to pace up and down in front of the bed while I process my newly discovered feelings.

Sure, I’ve liked a woman before, but never one I planned to keep for the rest of her life.

Do I take Franco’s advice and marry her? A forced marriage worked for Angelo, and Vittoria learned to love him.

Yeah, but he didn’t make her life a living hell. Angelo did everything in his power to win over his wife.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my heart beating faster and faster. “I have to stop caring about her.”

It’s still in the early stages. I can just stop liking her.

I hide in my bedroom until I’m sure she’s done cooking and eating, and by the time I open the door, I’m dead sure I’m in control of my emotions.

You’re her kidnapper and nothing more. You’ve got this.

I continue my little pep talk as I head down the stairs, and when I reach the kitchen, a breeze draws my attention to the open sliding doors in the dining room.

Seeing Skylar leaning over the glass railing of the balcony, my heart stutters in my chest, and I lunge into action.

I grab her from behind before she can even try to climb over and haul her away from the railing.

“Jesus!” she gasps.

It takes no effort from me to force her down to the floor while making sure I don’t hurt her in the process.

My fingers wrap around her neck to hold her in place, and with my heart hammering in my chest, I growl, “What the fuck are doing?”

Her hands fly up to grip my wrist, her eyes wide with shock. “Nothing!”

My voice is hoarse as I say, “If you think jumping will resolve everything, you’re very wrong.”

“I wasn’t going to jump,” she rambles. “I was just looking at the traffic below. Twenty-seven! There were twenty-seven yellow cabs.”

Fuck. My heart.

The wind catches her dress, blowing it up her body and giving me a perfect view of her black panties.

I sink back on my ass and suck in a deep breath while my eyes burn on

her.

Skylar sits up and pushes her dress down, her face pale from the fright I

just gave her.

When her eyes meet mine, her tone is soft as she says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d never do something like that.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

My heartbeat doesn’t slow down but instead continues to hammer against my ribs.

My breaths explode over my lips, and before I can stop myself, I dart forward again. Grabbing Skylar by her shoulders, I force her backward. My hand moves behind her head so she doesn’t bump it against the floor, and a second later, my mouth slams into hers.