The Mafia King’s Doll

Renzo

I’ve seen every fucking bare inch of Skylar’s delectable body.

I lied because I didn’t want her to have that kind of knowledge. If she finds out I’ve seen her naked, she might get it in her head to seduce me in an attempt to gain her freedom. It’s the last thing I need. She’s my prisoner, and that’s the extent of our relationship.

After I’ve showered, I change into black suit pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a vest. I don’t bother with a jacket as I don’t plan to leave the apartment.

Tucking my Glock behind my back into the waistband of my pants, I let out a sigh as I leave my bedroom.

When Carlo dropped off Skylar’s shit, I told him to go shopping so the woman will have ingredients to cook with. I’ve watched her long enough to know exactly what she needs to prepare a five-star meal.

Dario will finally get his wish for me to eat healthier. That should put a smile on his face.

Passing the guestroom where Skylar is, I notice the door’s shut, and I don’t hear anything.

I take the stairs down, and when I reach the living room, my eyes scan over every live feed from the Davies mansion. I grab the remote and turn up the sound.

“…can’t go to the police,” Harlan snaps at his housekeeper, who has tears running down her face. “We can’t do anything that will risk Skylar’s life.”

“How did this happen?” Louisa asks. “Just as things were finally returning to normal and Skylar wasn’t sick anymore. This isn’t right, Mr. Davies.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

The man’s losing his cool. Good.

“Skylar is my entire life! She’s my daughter,” he continues to shout, the unrelenting worry on his face giving me great satisfaction.

“We have to do something,” Louisa exclaims.

Watching the Davies household spiral is exactly what I wanted.

Now they’ll feel the pain I have to live with.

As the memory of Giulio calling me an old man flits through my mind, my eyes snap shut from the intensity of the grief hitting me.

It feels like, with every passing day, it’s getting worse. It still feels like he’ll walk into the room at any moment. I expect to hear his laughter.

Then the emptiness sets in, and once again, my heart’s shredded to pieces.

I feel Skylar before I hear her soft footsteps as she comes down the stairs.

My eyes open and flick to her, seeing that she’s cleaned herself up. She’s wearing another dress, this one cream with a big black flower over half the skirt.

Her features are tense with a cautious expression, and her eyes still tremble with horror and fear.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Even though my little mouse is shit scared, she lifts her chin and looks at me.

“You said I have to keep the place clean, but there are certain things I won’t be able to do for the next four weeks.”

Right. She’s still recovering.

When I just stare at her, her tongue darts out to wet her lips. She glances at the kitchen before meeting my eyes again.

“Cooking isn’t a problem. I can sit while doing most of the prep work.”

Again, I don’t answer her, but my gaze leaves hers to travel up and down her body.

Skylar starts to fidget with the skirt of her dress and eventually wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to keep still.

My eyes flick back to the TV screen, and I see the housekeeper sobbing her little heart out in the kitchen. There’s no sign of Harlan.

My gaze moves from one live stream to the next until it stops on Skylar’s empty bedroom.

I finally have the little mouse. I no longer have to watch her from a distance.

I turn my attention back to Skylar, whose breathing has sped up. Sweat beads on her forehead, and she’s back to looking pale as fuck.

“Sit,” I bark.

She darts forward and, a second later, takes a seat on the couch farthest from me.

“A nurse will continue with your follow-up checkups.” My eyes lock with Skylar’s again. “Until Bianca’s cleared you, you’ll only cook.”

I’m surprised when my little mouse is brave enough to ask, “What am I supposed to do with the rest of my time?”

The corner of my mouth lifts, and I almost let out a bark of laughter. “You’re not here to be entertained, topolina.”

She tilts her head slightly, then asks, “What does the Italian word mean?”

A smirk forms on my face before I murmur, “Little mouse.”

Climbing to my feet, I walk closer until I’m towering over her and she has to look up at me. I bring my hand to her face and watch as she flinches when I brush a finger along the curve of her jaw.

“Have you ever seen a cat play with a mouse?” The question is a low rumble from my chest.

Skylar shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with terror.

I have to be careful because I’m actually starting to like it.

“They don’t kill the mouse instantly. They’ll torture it for hours…” my finger moves down Skylar’s neck to her racing pulse. “Taking a bite here…” I clamp my hand around her throat and only use enough force to make her gasp. “Taking a bite there…”

When I pull her to her feet by her neck, Skylar grabs hold of my wrist with both her hands, her lips parting as her breaths burst over them.

I lean in close until her terrified breaths hit my lips, then I whisper, “When the mouse finally begs for death, the cat rips its head off.”

The elevator doors open, and I let go of Skylar. Turning around, I see Carlo coming in with the shopping. Bianca follows him into the penthouse, carrying a medical bag.

“I think I got everything you asked for, boss,” Carlo says before taking the shopping to the kitchen.

“Just leave it on the island,” I order. My eyes flick to Bianca, and I say, “You can check her here in the living room.”

Bianca’s face remains neutral when she approaches Skylar, who’s still trembling in fear.

“Are you taking your medication?” Bianca asks.

“No.” Skylar’s eyes flit to me. “It’s in the kitchen at my house.”

“Carlo,” I bark.

He comes rushing back into the living room. “Yes, boss?” “Go to the Davies mansion and bring Skylar’s medication.” “Yes, boss.”

“I’m going to draw some blood,” Bianca informs Skylar. I watch as the blood is drawn and her vitals are checked.

Bianco glances at me, then murmurs, “I have to check the surgery cut.” “Then check it,” I mutter.

Bianca’s eyes dart to Skylar’s before she says, “Please lift your dress.”

I give them zero privacy and almost smile when I see Skylar’s wearing black panties again.

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.”