Page 208 of Breaking Rosalind
Cesare picks at his food, still pissed from being left hanging. Seeing him so uncomfortable is healing a part of me I didn’t realize was broken. I’ve trained myself not to be a people pleaser, but this is the first time I’ve used a man’s frustration for entertainment.
“Are you going to eat or just sit there, brooding?” I nod at the pesto-stuffed mushrooms he’s left untouched.
He slides the plate across the table. “You have it.”
I devour the mushrooms as though I hadn’t already demolished my portion. Umami flavors explode on my tongue from the harmonic mix of tamari, garlic, and vegan cheese.
His eyes soften. “You like that?”
“Mmmm.” I nod, still too ravenous to speak.
Maybe it’s all the days I spent involuntarily fasting, but nothing hits better than sharing a scrumptious, highly nutritious, organic meal with my former captor.
“How’s the spaghetti?” I ask.
He scoffs. “This will never be pasta.”
“Alright,” I say with a chuckle. “How is the spiralized zucchini?”
“You’re enjoying it,” he says, his words gruff. “That means I like it, too.”
After eating, we leave the yacht with several takeout containers that I insisted on bringing along for a midnight snack. It’s time to interrogate Dr. Daniel about how he found me and gather information about the Moirai’s lower levels.
A full moon hangs low in the sky, partially shrouded by mist. It’s hard to believe I spent an entire day on water without triggering my phobia, but Cesare has a way of commanding every ounce of my attention so that nothing else matters but him.
I’m dressed in a pair of black Balenciaga cargo pants with a matching hoodie that probably cost over a month’s salary. The boutique must have altered the garments to my measurements because it fits better than the items I bought from the mall, and the fabric gliding against my skin feels like heaven.
Cesare’s gaze lingers over my form as he drives us back to Alderney Hill. The slight tug at the corner of his lips betrays the pleasure he’s taking in my more relaxed mood, and his eyes gleam with appreciation.
“Did I ever mention you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met?” he asks.
“Is that why you’re so fixated on owning me?” I ask.
He reaches across the front seat and grabs my hand. His fingers are gentle, comforting, warm. “Not just strong, but beautiful. Sometimes, I look at you and I’m awestruck.”
Any other time, I would pull away, not wanting to give Cesare the impression I plan on staying beyond the end of our deal. But his touch is the comfort I need after my harrowing morning.
“It’s the training that’s impressive,” I mutter. “Not me.”
“Not true.” He pauses at the gates for the guards to let us through. “You forget that I’ve met three other Moirai-trained women. None of them compares to you.”
My heart sinks at the reminder of Britt. Not so much at the operatives in the basement who allowed me to attack the guards alone, resulting in my getting shot. The moment they colluded with each other to blame me for orchestrating the hit on Roman, I lost any sense of giving a shit about their fates.
He parks outside the mansion’s double doors, and we go straight to the basement. I expect my skin to crawl or break out in a sweat considering this is where I was held captive, but Cesare’s presence beside me bolsters my strength.
After passing through a series of biometric security protected hallways, Cesare pauses at a door. “You don’t have to go inside.”
“If you think I’ll find the sight of Dr. Daniel triggering?—”
“I know you can handle it,” he says.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Do you really need that bastard spoiling your good mood?” he asks. “He knows he won’t leave this basement alive. He could say anything to break your spirit.”
The lining of my stomach flutters with nerves. I meet Cesare’s concerned gaze and gulp. “He won’t get the chance to taunt me about what he did to Britt.”
Cesare nods. “Keep him focused on what you need to know.”