Page 198 of Breaking Rosalind
I fidget, my mind trying to make sense of his odd behavior. Where are the accusations that I’m back in touch with the Moirai? Where are the demands for information? Keeping my features schooled, I glance toward the door. “I’ve had worse.”
“Rosalind,” he says with a sigh. “Do you need an STI panel?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You got there before he could…”
I can’t even say the word. The tight band of control I have over my emotions is hanging by a thread.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders sag with relief. That’s when I finally realize something between us has changed. He reaches to take my hand, then seems to think better of it and withdraws.
“When I found him standing there with his cock out, I thought the worst,” he says, his voice rough.
I close my eyes and exhale. “There’s nothing worse than realizing someone you care for has suffered an agonizing death. Britt was there for me from the beginning. I’ve known her since we were fourteen.”
“When you joined the Moirai’s academy?”
“We were at the same boarding school in New Jersey, when she introduced me to Gunther, who became our boss,” I say. “As much as I hate the Moirai, I could never have gotten Miranda out of that house without their training.”
We fall silent for several moments, and my mind drifts to Britt’s last moments. How long did she spend with that psychotic doctor? Was it hours or days? The last time I saw her at the airport, she wasn’t concerned about being followed. Maybe he caught up with her when they were abroad.
“What happened after he took you from the café?” he asks.
“It all happened so fast,” I say, my gaze fixed on my lap. “He didn’t share my whereabouts with the Moirai. What he wanted to do was purely for his entertainment.”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts.
My head snaps up, and I meet his piercing gaze. “What are you talking about?”
“For keeping you locked up like that and treating you like a plaything. For using Miranda and you as pawns. For everything.”
“You already made things right,” I say, not wanting to compound the horror of my captivity with Dr. Daniel by rehashing my time with Cesare.
“You can’t forgive me so easily.”
My lips tighten. “Sometimes forgiveness is about letting go of trauma so the victim can move forward. This isn’t about you, alright?”
He breathes hard, looking like he wants to argue his point further. I’m still reeling from what happened to Britt. I can’t cope with his outpouring of guilt.
“As long as you hold up your end of our bargain, we’re even,” I say.
“And then you’ll leave me?”
There’s no way in hell I’d answer that loaded question. If I tell him the truth, he’ll switch up on me, and I don’t have the mental bandwidth to endure that.
I turn to meet his gaze, his eyes flicker with emotion. The tough exterior he wears cracks for just a moment, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. I see so much of the young man in the photo album and have to remind myself he’s only twenty-four.
“Are you planning on keeping us against our will?” I ask.
“No,” he says, as though the admission hurts. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you.”
“But you’ll do everything you can to convince me to stay?” I ask.
He nods.
“Alright.”
“Just... alright?” he asks, his brows knitted.
Scooting to the side, I pull back the sheets. “I mean alright, get under these sheets and make me forget I was nearly sliced open.”