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“You’re a dog with a fucking bone with this, you know that?” He washes the knife and sets it in the drying rack. “I told you that when I felt I could trust you, then I would start telling you what’s going on. You’ve done nothing to prove that I can trust you. Hell, one of us had to tell my sister about Bianca, and since it wasn’t me, I’m assuming it was you. And you just had a fucking knife to my throat.”

My cheeks warm. “You deserved it.”

He gives me a flat look. “And Skyla?”

“She asked and I didn’t want to lie to your sister. We’re family—in a way—and I don’t want her to hate me.”

“She wouldn’t have hated you.” Royce sighs, leaning against the counter and crossing one leg over the other. “She does think this is stupid and bound to blow up in our faces.”

“What did you tell her?”

There’s a sharp pain seizing my chest as I think about all the things that could go wrong.

This is why I shouldn’t rely on him. I should be working right now and making an income for me and Bianca. I shouldn’t be sitting here, waiting for the next move. I need to get out and get my life together.

I can’t keep waiting to see if one man in my life isn’t going to try to control me.

But the thought of leaving Royce and having to face Noah without him terrifies me.

And then there’s the thought of hurting Royce again.

I can’t do it.

Royce rubs his temples. “I’m tired of fighting with you all the time. I’m exhausted from having to think three steps ahead of you just in case you’re going to pick a new topic to fight about today. I just want to get through this. Preferably without you slicing open my damn throat.”

The words strike a chord within me, bringing the temper flaring back to life.

“You’re the one who kidnapped me, but I’m the problem?” I snort and stir the food in the pan, the scent of garlic filling the air. “You have got to be kidding me, Royce. You’re keeping me here like a damn prisoner.”

“Because you are.”

Hearing him put it so bluntly knocks the air from my lungs, sending the ground slipping away from beneath me.

He pushes off the counter, going to the playpen and looking at Bianca when she starts to whine. “Hey, kiddo, everything is fine. You just need some dinner.”

I see red as he walks into the kitchen and grabs the leftover rice from last night, setting it in the microwave and heating it up. “I can take care of her.”

“And we’re circling back to this.” He rolls his eyes as the microwave beeps. “You don’t need to be the only person taking care of Bianca, just like you don’t need to work your ass off to provide for her anymore. I’m here and I can help.”

“I don’t need your help!” I toss my hands in the air and with them goes the wooden spoon, sending a spattering of chorizo grease to the ceiling. “Shit.”

Royce sighs and grabs a cloth, climbing on top of the counter and cleaning up the mess. “I know you don’t need it, but there’s no reason for you to keep doing this on your own anymore. I’m here and I have the money to take care of both of you. I want to.”

“No! I handled everything fine on my own since the day you left. I’ve spent eighteen months of Bianca’s life raising her, then you show up a couple weeks ago and you think that you just get to be here and take care of her?”

I set the spoon to the side and take the bowl of rice from him, putting it on the tray of the high chair before pulling out some leftover chicken cut into tiny pieces too.

“Gia, you have to stop this. I can help.”

Biting back the tears of frustration that bubble to the surface, I turn to him, wishing that the knife was back in my pocket. I don’t know what I would do with it, but stabbing him might be a start. “I don’t need your help. We don’t need it. I can handle this on my own.”

Maybe. I might be able to.

Attempting to would at least be better than continuing to put up with him.

“And you’re still not listening to me! I’m telling you that I don’t need to and that I can handle this on my own, but all you’re hearing is that you need to put yourself in the middle of it because heaven forbid I control my own life.”

Royce pulls himself to his full height, and it sucks all the air from the room. He steps closer to me, taking my jaw in his hand, forcing me to make eye contact with him. “I get it, you don’t want my help, and you don’t need it, but it’s here.”