Page 152 of Breaking Rosalind
I force my gaze to the desk, finding an array of pastries, along with a silver pot of what smells like hot chocolate. The brown smudges on the insides of an empty cup confirm my suspicions.
None of that matters, though. She’s healthy, happy, but is she hurt? My gaze rakes up and down her slender form, searching for any signs of trauma or injury.
Her cheeks are rosy, with her mouth covered in faint traces of chocolate and crumbs. All I see is the vibrancy of her youth, but then I was ecstatic in the early days with Matteo.
“Are you okay, baby?” I place an arm around her shoulders and pull her in for a hug.
“Don’t call me that,” she says with a nervous chuckle and slips out from my embrace. Her gaze flickers toward Cesare, who stands in the doorway. “It’s embarrassing.”
The rejection makes my heart sink to my empty stomach. I iron out my features and dismiss the brush off as teenage sensitivity. It’s not like I know what it feels like to be a regular fourteen-year-old.
At her age, I was heavily pregnant and locked in a room with only Mom coming in during the day to bring me food. After the c-section, I only spent a few weeks at my boarding school before Gunther recruited me to the Moirai.
Miranda walks to the other side of the desk, using it as a barrier. She feigns interest in the pastries and selects a chocolate croissant. I used to think she was a prickly child until Cesare told me she remembers the day I shot Mom between the eyes and launched a grenade at Matteo, his brother, and their goons.
“How’s your shoulder?” she asks.
I clutch my bullet wound and frown, my gaze darting to Cesare. “It’s healing.”
“It’s not like you to be clumsy, even if you were skiing.”
“Skiing,” I say with a tight smile, still unable to fathom how Cesare explained my injury. “It just happened so fast. What’s all this food?”
“Did you know they have room service?” Miranda says. “I couldn’t sleep after all that hot chocolate. Then I stayed up thinking about the man from the airport.”
“Miri?” I frown.
She flicks her head toward Cesare. “You know…”
“No, I don’t.”
“The one who’s been hurting all of Cesare’s friends.”
I suck in a sharp breath, my mind making rapid-fire connections. Cesare blamed Allegra’s murder on the Galliano family and he said they were also responsible for Tania’s. He told his brother and Gil that Matteo was trying to create discord by choosing women connected to Cesare to make it look like he was killing his exes.
My stomach plummets with the realization that Cesare brought Miranda into the mansion because he is afraid she’d become Matteo’s next target.
Because Matteo saw Miranda at the airport.
Fuck.
Did he even recognize his daughter?
FIFTY-NINE
CESARE
Rosalind is giving me whiplash.
Less than an hour ago, I walked in on her, thinking she was a cold-hearted bitch who murdered her own parents out of a twisted form of sibling rivalry. Now, I can’t stop comparing her to my pet rabbit, who also had her belly ripped open.
A single piece of information has changed everything I know about Rosalind, casting her from the villain to a mother desperate to protect her child.
My heart swells, pushing painfully against my rib cage. Mom was a fully grown woman who couldn’t even stay faithful to Dad. Rosalind was just a child when she had Miranda, yet she went to such lengths to ensure her safety, even if it meant becoming an assassin.
Mom cheated on Dad with the Galliano brothers, which was how I was born. The moment he died and Roman got arrested, she left Benito and me for what she probably thought was better prospects.
I can’t see Rosalind ever ditching Miranda. She would set fire to the estate and the whole of Beaumont City to save her daughter from getting hurt. Maybe if I wasn’t so blinded by her connection to the Moirai, I could have appreciated her sacrifice.