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)
He’s not doing well. He hasn’t shaved and spends a lot of time in my bedroom, just staring at the floor.
My heart breaks seeing him like that, but part of me is angry because he bought the kidney on the black market, and now I’m a deranged mafia boss’ prisoner.
I understand why Dad did it, but I still feel it was my choice to make and not his. It’s hard to accept a man died because of me.
If I could turn back time, I would’ve chosen death instead of getting the surgery because the torment I’m forced to endure in this penthouse is no life at all.
Knowing all my hopes and dreams are once again out of reach is a hard pill to swallow.
It’s much more difficult than the first time I had to give up on them.
The skin at the back of my neck prickles, and my body instantly tenses.
Not once since I got here has Renzo come into my room. Feeling his eyes on me, my heartbeat speeds up, and I swallow hard on the fear tightening my throat.
After he suddenly lunged at me two nights ago, he hasn’t spoken a word to me, and I’ve only seen him at dinner.
A drop of rain splats on my knee, and I glance up at the dark sky. A flash of lightning strikes in the distance, and another drop lands on my forehead.
Knowing I can’t afford to get sick, I reluctantly get up and walk back into the bedroom. When I pull the sliding door shut, I still feel Renzo’s eyes on me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I turn around and see him leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest.
I have zero intention of being the first to speak, and copying his stance, I lean against the wall and cross my arms.
The stand-off lasts for unnervingly long minutes before he murmurs, “I’m surprised you haven’t tried to escape.”
I shrug. “I’m not going to risk my father’s life. You’ve made it pretty clear you’ll kill him if I try anything.”
“So you’re just going to lie back and take it?” he asks. “I was under the impression you’re a fighter and not someone who gives up so easily.”
His words have anger exploding in my chest, and pushing away from the wall, I walk in the direction of the bathroom so I can get away from him before I say something that will get Dad and me killed.
Before I can make it past the bed, Renzo grabs hold of my arm and tugs me closer until my shoulder presses against his solid chest.
His tone is low as he asks, “Do you think you’re innocent in my little brother’s death?”
I close my eyes as the guilt rears in my heart.
Not looking at Renzo, I answer, “It wasn’t my choice.”
“What would you have chosen?”
I suck in a deep breath of air as the days before the surgery ghost through my mind.
My voice is soft as I say, “I made peace with dying. I wouldn’t have agreed to the surgery had I known they’d kill someone for the kidney.” Turning my head, my eyes lock with his. I don’t know where the bravery comes from as I whisper, “There’s only one murderer in this room, and it’s not me.”
His lips curve up in a dangerous-looking smile, and a burst of laughter escapes him.
Letting go of my arm, he lifts his hand to my face, and when he aims to touch my jaw, I jerk my head away.
His eyebrow lifts. “Suddenly, you’re brave, my little mouse.”
Lightening flashes right outside the windows and lights up the room for a split second. I see the cold and unforgiving look in Renzo’s eyes and remember what he’s capable of.
He killed Dr. Bentall without showing any emotion.
The heavens open up, and rain pours down in a thick curtain, the sound filling the room.
“Maybe you are innocent,” Renzo murmurs. For a moment, I wonder if I heard right, then he continues, “I thought about killing you and putting an end to this…situation.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, and my eyes flit back to his face.
“But some of my friends are rooting for your survival.”
Dario?
He said friends, so there’s more than one. Right?
This time, when he lifts his hand to my face, I keep still. His fingers brush along my jaw and down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
I hate that his touch affects me and ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach.
“You don’t get as scared anymore,” he mentions. “Which means you’re getting used to living here, and soon it might not be torture anymore.”
I doubt that. This place will never be my home.
I continue to just stare at him, refusing to play into his mind games.
“I’ll have to think of a creative way to get my pound of flesh. Maybe Franco was right after all.”