Page 131 of Breaking Rosalind
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
“You need to be at your best when you’re helping me with those Moirai bastards,” he murmurs in my ear, sending sparks across my skin.
I shiver, trying to force back my body’s response. This is just a facade. A switch up in his psychopathy to throw me off balance.
What he doesn’t realize is that I’d already decided to turn against the Moirai until he brought Miranda back. She’s now back at the Academy, where she’s exposed to Gunther.
I can’t even feel relief at no longer being the target of his sadism. He’s gotten Miranda confiding in him, sharing her darkest secrets. All I can think is that he’s going to corrupt my little girl. He’ll manipulate Miranda’s resentment toward me to gain her trust and then carry out my worst fear.
I sacrificed everything to protect my daughter. If I don’t stop him, that psychopath will turn her into his plaything.
Miranda won’t even see it coming, even though I warned her about older men and the process of grooming. It will be just like what happened to me.
Cesare will fill the emotional gap left by a neglectful mother. He’ll be her confidante and her protector, the only person in the world she’ll feel who truly sees her heart.
He’ll shower her with love, recognition, and praise. He’ll give her everything she’s every yearned for—the things I’ve failed to provide. She’ll be enchanted, just like I was with Matteo.
Before she knows it, Cesare will become her tormentor.
There’s only one way to protect her: gather the information he wants and use that knowledge as leverage to earn our freedom. Freedom from him. Freedom from the Montesano family. Freedom from the Moirai.
“What do you think of me, pet?”
“You’re a monster.” The words slip from my lips.
“What else do you think about me?”
“You’re dangerous.”
My prey instincts scream at me to be silent, but my mouth won’t stop forming words.
“You find me attractive?”
“If the devil took human form, he wouldn’t be as handsome as you.”
He grins.
“Do you like fucking me?”
“God, yes.”
My gaze drops to the IV tube running from beneath the bandage around my hand and toward the liquid-filled bag hanging from a drip. I can’t read the word on its label, but it sure as hell isn’t saline.
Cesare brushes a strand of hair off my face. “You’ve finally noticed the scopolamine?”
A breath catches in my throat. I’m supposed to be immune to truth serums, but then nobody ever administered them to me after days of starvation, torture, sedation, and sensory deprivation.
“Yes,” I rasp.
“Do you love me?” he whispers.
My heart pounds against my ribs, a maddening tattoo that echoes the intensity of my terror. Panic swells in my chest, stealing my air and erasing the edges of my sanity.
I grind my teeth, trying to fight through the urge to speak, but it’s futile.
“No.”
He leans closer, his sharp blue eyes piercing into mine and cutting through the last vestiges of my resistance. They burn with an intensity of fury that makes every fine hair stand on end.