The Mafia King’s Doll

Renzo

Leaning my shoulder against the doorjamb with my arms crossed over my chest, I watch Skylar as she sleeps.

The events of yesterday keep replaying in my mind.

Kissing her was not planned, and it only left me wanting more.

Remembering how she melted beneath me and kissed me back with a fuck ton of passion, the corner of my mouth lifts.

She might not like me, but she sure as fuck is attracted to me.

Talking with her until late into the night was also not planned, but I enjoyed every second of it.

The act she was putting on to flirt with me fell away, and I got to see her real smile and talk about something she’s passionate about.

Does it bother me that she’s trying to flirt with me in the hopes that I’ll free her?

Not one bit. It’s entertaining.

But this isn’t some Beauty and the Beast fairytale where she’ll get to return to her father. She belongs to me.

Forever.

Pushing away from the doorjamb, I walk closer to the side of the bed and stare down at the sleeping woman I was never supposed to fall for.

It’s only been three weeks, and I no longer have the desire to torture her.

I take in her slightly parted lips, her hands that are tightly fisted beneath her chin, and her body that’s curled in a fetal position.

Even while sleeping, she’s tense.

When I watched her in her bedroom at the Davies mansion, she used to sleep on her back with her fingers relaxed.

Sitting down on the side of the bed, I bring my hand to her hair, and pull my fingers through the strands.

They’re as soft as they look.

Letting out a sigh, I whisper, “What am I going to do with you?”

When I mentioned marriage to her last night, I saw the shock on her face. Skylar isn’t from my world, and she won’t just be a good little girl and

say her vows.

If I threaten her father’s life, she will.

Remembering the attitude she gave me last night makes a smile tug at my lips.

She has some fight in her, after all.

As I continue to look at her, I become more and more curious. I want to see what she’s like when she’s happy.

Leaning over her, I press a kiss to her jaw before saying, “Wake up,

topolina.”

Her breathing changes, and her eyelashes flutter open. When she sees me sitting next to her, fear flashes over her face, and she quickly sits up.

Her tone is cautious as she asks, “What? Why did you wake me?” “Get dressed,” I say as I get up. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” “It’s still dark. What’s the time?”

“Four am.”

Walking to the door, I say, “If you want a chance to cook at La Torrisi, be downstairs in fifteen.”

As I leave the room, I hear her footsteps hurrying in the direction of the bathroom.

Letting out a chuckle, I head to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. I only get to drink half of it before Skylar comes into the kitchen. Her hair’s tied back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a black and white dress.

I hand her my cup. “Drink some.”

She doesn’t hesitate and takes a couple of sips before handing it back to

me.

When her eyes connect with mine, a smile spreads over her face. “Are

you really going to let me cook in your kitchen?”

“The kitchen belongs to Chef Alain,” I say. “But he won’t be in until eleven, so you’ll have plenty of time to make breakfast for me.”

Her smile widens even more, and I find myself staring at her with wonder.

“Prepare to have the best breakfast you’ve ever tasted,” she says, excitement coming off her in waves.

I drink the last of the coffee before putting the cup in the sink. When I walk toward the elevator, Skylar’s right behind me.

Once we’re in the elevator, I turn my head and stare at her. There’s no tension on her face, and she seems genuinely excited.

The doors slide open, and stepping out, I walk toward the Bentley. I didn’t bother calling Vincenzo and Fabrizio, leaving my men to get a good night’s sleep.

“No guards?” Skylar asks when I open the passenger door for her. “No. It’s just us.” I don’t elaborate why.

She climbs inside, and while she tugs on the safety belt, I shut the door and walk around the front of the car.

Sliding behind the steering wheel, I adjust the seat before starting the engine.

When I pull out of the basement and steer the Bentley onto the quiet streets, I feel Skylar stealing glances at me.

“Sooo, last night was nice,” she murmurs. “We should do that again.”

Letting out a sigh, I mutter, “I’ll make you deal. Just for today, I won’t be an asshole, and you’ll drop the act.”

“What act?”

“The one where you think flirting with me will make me care enough to let you go.” My eyes flick to hers. “I’m not that kind of man. If you make me love you, there’s no fucking way I’ll let you go. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

“Are you saying there’s a chance you might fall in love with me?”

My hand grips the steering wheel tighter as I clench my jaw while growling, “Don’t make me regret bringing you along to La Torrisi.”

She drops the subject instantly and turns her attention to the window.

“I just want one day where we’re not kidnapper and captive. Just one fucking day where I can be myself around you, and you can show me what you’re like when you’re actually happy,” I admit.

Her tone is soft as she whispers, “Okay.” I hear her taking a deep breath, then she adds, “It will be a nice change of pace.”

I park the Bentley in my designated spot, and getting out, my eyes scan our surroundings for any threats.

Skylar climbs out of the car before I reach the passenger’s side. She follows me to the back door that’s used for deliveries and staff.

I search for the right key, and unlocking the door, I walk inside and flick on the lights as we move through the hallway and past my office.

When we reach the kitchen, I glance at Skylar. Her lips are parted with a look of awe as she slowly moves forward.

“Holy crap, you really own La Torrisi,” she murmurs as she trails her hand along one of the counters. “This is surreal.”

I walk to the freezer, and opening it, I say, “You’ll find everything in here.” Noticing stacks of fish, I mutter, “The fucker once again ordered trout. I’m going to kill him.”

Skylar comes to stand next to me and peeks inside. “Does Chef Alain love using trout in his dishes?”

“Yes, but it’s not the most popular dish on the menu. Last time he fucked up, more than half went into the trash.”

Her eyes flit to me, a flash of worry on her face. “Are you really going to kill him?”

Letting out a chuckle, I shake my head. “That would draw attention to me, but at this rate, I’m going to fire his ass.”

“And kidnapping me doesn’t draw attention to you?” she asks as she moves deeper into the freezer.

“You weren’t connected to me when I took you,” I explain.

“Right.” Her eyes meet mine. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Whatever you feel like making,” I say as I pull my phone from my pocket. “Just not trout. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” Walking away, I call out, “Don’t burn down the kitchen.”

I hear her chuckle as I dial Elio’s number while heading to my office. “Yes, boss?” his sleepy voice comes over the line.

“I’m taking the day off. Make sure everyone reports to you, and don’t call me unless you find Servando Montes.”

“Okay. You going to get some rest?”

“Something like that,” I mutter before ending the call.

Taking a seat at my desk, I switch on the computer so I can get all the work out of the way.

It only takes me fifteen minutes to check everything because Viviana does a good job of running the restaurant.

When I head back to the kitchen, I pause by the arch leading from the hallway to the workspace and stare at Skylar.

She’s busy frying something that looks like a vegetable pancake.

When I move closer, her eyes dart to me before returning to the pan as she flips the pancake without any effort.

“I’m making Asian food,” she informs me. “Korean pancakes, egg fried rice, and grilled mackerel.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Chef.”

Her eyes dart to me again, and I see the surprise in them because I called her chef. It’s followed closely by a confused expression before she focuses on the hot pan again.

“What was the confused look for?” I ask as I lean against one of the counters and cross my arms over my chest.

“It was just weird when you called me chef,” she replies. “You almost sounded like a normal person.”

She slides the pancake onto a plate, and using a pizza cutter, she slices it into triangles.

“It’s difficult to process you’re the owner of La Torrisi and a ruthless mafia boss.” She holds a tray out to me and says, “I’ve taken the liberty of setting one of the tables.”

Skylar grabs another tray with the rice and mackerel, and I follow her to the table.

When we take our seats, I notice she’s placed chopsticks on the table. She picks up her pair, and as if she’s used them a million times, she places a slice of the pancake and some of the meat from the mackerel on my plate.

We each have our own bowl of fried egg rice, and she smiles as she says, “I hope you enjoy the meal, Mr. Torrisi.”

It almost feels like an interview.

“Why is it difficult to accept I own this restaurant while being a part of the Cosa Nostra?” I ask to bring us back to our earlier conversation.

She picks up her glass of water and takes a sip before she answers, “This restaurant is a place where masterpieces are created.”

“And?” I take a bite of the pancake, loving the texture and flavor.

Her eyes meet mine. “Last week, I saw the body of a man you disemboweled with your bare hands.”

I stare at her as I suck in a deep breath of air.

It wasn’t my intention for her to see Castellanos.

“How do you straddle the light and dark? How can you create a place like this,” she waves over the tables, “and at the same time, you kill without blinking?”

“Easy,” I murmur. “Just because I don’t hesitate to kill anyone who crosses me doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the beautiful things in life.” I keep

her gaze imprisoned as I continue, “You’ve seen the worst of me. I lost my brother, the person who I loved more than anything. You’re seeing the pain, the rage, the fucking relentless thirst for vengeance.”

The air vibrates with my sorrow, and I take a couple of breaths in an attempt to calm down before I say, “Giulio was full of life. He always had an infectious smile on his face. Everyone loved him.”

I close my eyes as a wave of pain washes over me. It’s not as intense anymore, but it still packs a punch.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

Christ. I miss him.

When I open my eyes again, it’s to see Skylar’s chin trembling.

My voice is hoarse when I say, “I loved him so fucking much, and every day without him is hell.”

A tear spirals down her cheek, and as she wipes it away, she whispers, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Reaching for my glass of water, I take a few sips while gathering my thoughts.

“I’m actually the calm and funny one between my friends.” My eyes meet hers. “That’s why I was so close with Giulio.” I glance at the empty tables, the food forgotten between us. “A week before Giulio’s murder, I told him I was going to train him to take over when I retired. I’ve never seen him work so hard. Up until then, he gave me shit because he wanted to become one of my guards, and I wouldn’t let him.”

Talking about him isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

My gaze flicks back to Skylar’s when she wipes another tear from her cheek.

“Why are you crying?” I ask with zero harshness in my tone.

She sucks in a trembling breath before she answers, “Because I feel so freaking bad that he was killed because of me.”

“Giulio,” I murmur. “You’ve never said his name.”

She lifts her chin, and looking me in the eye, she says, “I feel horrible for being the reason Giulio’s dead. If I could, I’d swap places with him in a heartbeat.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “The fucked up part is he wouldn’t have wanted that. He had a soft heart and probably would’ve donated his kidney if he had known he could help.”

Skylar covers her face with her hands as a sob escapes her.

With all the raw pain out on the table between us, I stare at her as she cries for my brother.

Giulio would’ve loved her.

He would’ve comforted her and said something funny to make her laugh.

Climbing to my feet, I move around the table. I take hold of Skylar’s arm, and pulling her up, I wrap her in a tight embrace against my chest.

“I’m s-so sorry, Renzo,” she cries.

Yeah, so am I, my little mouse. So am I.