Page 151 of Breaking Rosalind
“Fine.” He rises off my hips and sinks beside me on the mattress. “I’ll make inquiries.”
“Don’t bother.” I sit up against the headboard, roll the tension off my shoulders, and force back a semblance of composure. “I already did the research. Just give me the money, and I’ll take her.”
“We’ll take Miranda together.”
My stomach churns, and I tighten my jaw. Cesare doesn’t seem like the type of man to hand a woman a suitcase of cash and expect her to return, and he’d be right. The moment I leave with my little girl, I’m never coming back.
He sits beside me and offers out his hand. “Deal?”
Every instinct screams at me to break his fingers. Fingers that removed my bullet wound. Fingers that brought me to the heights of pleasure and pain. Fingers that slid down my tongue and fed me rice pudding.
Now isn’t the time for vengeance or even escape. After Miranda is safe, there’ll be plenty of time to act.
But for now, all I can do is take his hand. “Deal.”
My gaze drifts from our joined hands to penetrating blue eyes that know all my secrets. He’s the only person alive who has seen me cry, has made me beg, and knows what I look like when I climax. When he pulls me into his chest, I lose track of that peculiar thought.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice wavering.
“When you make a deal with the devil, you need to seal it with a kiss,” he says, his lips descending on mine.
Grinding my teeth, I let him savor this hollow victory. He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap, while he tries to push his tongue between our joined lips.
My fingers find his nipple, and I pinch it with every ounce of strength. He groans, his cock hardening beneath my thighs. Of course, the bastard enjoys receiving pain as much as he enjoys his sadism.
I pull away and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth, trying to rid myself of his taste. “Next time you kiss me, I’ll bite off your lip.”
“Feisty,” he says, his eyes dancing with mirth, his fingers tracing up my bare thighs.
Fury ripples down my spine, and I launch myself off the bed. “Where’s Miranda?”
He cocks his head and gazes down at me with a smirk. “You can’t see her looking like you’ve just been fucked.”
My brow furrows. I glance down at the shirt to find it gaping open and exposing my breasts. The buttons must have popped during our struggle. “Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. “Give me something I can borrow.”
After Cesare insists I take a shower with him and change into a pair of his silk pajamas, he finally directs me down the hallway. The sun has risen, drenching the ivory walls in light and casting sharp-edged shadows across the marble floor.
He stops us at a door and knocks, his features softening. There’s no doubt that Cesare is fond of my daughter, but I don’t believe for one second that a violent psychopath could ever form a friendship with an innocent young girl.
“Hello?” Miranda’s sweet voice filters through the door, making my throat thicken. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Cesare says, his grating voice transforming into something gentle, even soothing. “Are you decent?”
It’s jarring to witness his duplicity. Is this the mask he shows to his victims to lure them into his trap? Memories of Matteo bubble up to the surface, reminding me of how I once saw him as a father figure.
Heart pounding, I grab Cesare’s pajama top. “She doesn’t know,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “And you’re not going to tell her.”
He gives me a sharp nod, seeming to understand the importance of keeping quiet.
The door swings open, there she is. Miranda appears, drowning in an identical set of black pajamas. She’s so bright-eyed and happy that I forget my worries. My heart swells, crushing the nagging concern that she’s wearing Cesare’s clothes.
“Rosa!” Miranda pulls my arm and yanks me into a room the size of Cesare’s that overlooks the gardens and the pool.
Tears prick at my eyes at the sight of my little girl. I still don’t know how long we’ve spent apart.
Her school backpack lies strewn on the marble floor with a silver dress spilling out along with a pair of heels. Where on earth did she get money for new clothes?
My chest tightens. It’s probably the same place she got the phone she snuck into the New Jersey apartment. Cesare.