Page 220 of Breaking Rosalind
“Do you need a moment alone with her, pet?” I ask.
“Thank you.” Rosalind turns to me with a watery smile.
Pulling her to my chest, I place a kiss on the top of her head and exit the room to give her privacy.
As I walk down the marble hallway and pull out my phone, the click-clacking heels approach me from behind. Turning around, I spot Elania hurrying toward me with a scowl.
“Where’s Benito?” she snaps.
My brows pull together. “Last time I saw him was a few days ago. Have you checked the casino?”
“He isn’t returning my calls. That asshole owes us for two days of lost business for using up all four of our cremators.”
“Have you called the house?”
“He’s ghosting us,” she says as though I haven’t spoken.
“Take it up with Roman,” I reply with a shrug.
She huffs. “That bastard owes me, too. I broke a heel at that party that turned into a gunfight and ripped the hem of my dress.”
My lips quirk. “Tell Maria from Dolce Vita to put a replacement outfit on my tab.”
She rocks forward on her tiptoes and gives me a kiss on both cheeks. “Next time your brothers want to use our crematorium for bulk disposal, we’re going to charge you double. And demand payment in advance.”
Chuckling, I watch her disappear down the hallway, and then exchange a few texts with Miranda. I let her know Rosalind has lost her best friend without giving specifics and ask her to send a message of condolences.
After that, I check my phone for messages from unknown callers. Matty Galliano has gone silent since the incident at the graveyard. Maybe Sofia shot something critical. With any luck, the bastard is dead.
Two text messages pop up from Dr. Cortese. The first says the mercury nitrovolucite is now stable enough for transportation, and the second confirms that it just arrived at the Parisii Cemetery.
I slip the phone in my pocket and exhale. Everything is going as planned. Xero’s people will leave the crystals at strategic points within the Moirai HQ, and our bombs will reduce their underground hideout along with their senior management to dust.
Footsteps approach. I crack open an eye to find Rosalind hurrying toward me with her cheeks flushed.
Pushing off the wall, I walk toward her with a frown. “Are you alright, love?—”
She cuts me off with a kiss.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
ROSALIND
No man has ever helped me without sinister motives. My biological father died before I was born, and my only stepfather groomed me to become a plaything. The mentor who promised to make me stronger recruited me into an organization that doesn’t allow its employees to leave.
Axel, who I thought might be a suitable partner, stabbed me in the back to boost his image and take a sizable bonus for a mission he wasn’t qualified to complete.
Cesare is the first man who dropped his mask and showed me the monster behind the man. He’s loyal, loving, and trying hard to fix the rift between me and my daughter. Our goals might not be aligned, but he’s still making every dream come true. In a few days, I’ll be free from the Moirai and I can finish the job I started when I threw a rocket launcher at Matteo.
He stiffens for a second, but he joins in on the kiss, his arms wrapping around my shoulders in a possessive hug. His lips move against mine with an urgency that makes my heart pound.
This morning was exactly what I needed to soothe my grief. From the moment he pulled me out of that nightmare to arranging for Miranda to comfort to me on the loss of my best friend. I love sleeping beside Cesare. I love the way we fight just as much as I love the way we fuck.
Our personalities, backgrounds and situations in life are so different, yet everything about us makes sense. I’m water. He’s fire. I’m order. He’s chaos. I’ve felt like a pawn my entire life and he’s a mafia prince.
He adores Miranda and doesn’t judge me for having a child so young, and Miranda adores him. I’m starting to wonder if I’m going through the final stages of Stockholm syndrome because he’s stealing my heart.
When we break apart, his pale eyes are aflame with emotions so intense that my heart flutters. He raises a hand to stroke my cheek, his touch making my skin erupt in tingles. As much as I want to lose myself in him, it’s impossible to ignore his red flags.