Page 232 of Breaking Rosalind
My heart pounds as I saunter down the stark hallway dressed in fishnets, a denim miniskirt and halter-neck top. I’m a little overdressed compared to the women who usually visit Matteo’s hospital room, but it’s the most effective way to conceal weapons.
The calm I usually feel on missions is gone, replaced by a slow-burning rage that’s been simmering since the moment I discovered Matteo and his brother had survived the explosion.
“Hello, sweetheart,” the burly guard at Matteo’s door rumbles. He’s a bald mammoth of a man whose bulk could flatten a whale. “I haven’t seen you around.”
I flick my gaze up and down the muscles bulging out of his suit. “Maybe that’s because you haven’t looked hard enough.”
He snickers. “Well, I’m looking now.”
Wiggling my shoulders, I shoot him a flirty smile. “You gonna get hard for me later?”
He grins, his eyes dancing. “I reckon I might.”
“I’ll be back at Bella’s Ranch in a couple of hours. Ask for Flora.”
His grin fades, only for his features morph into contempt. I don’t have the mental bandwidth to wonder if that’s because he expected a hooker to invite him back to her home for a freebie. “He’s waiting for you inside. You got an hour.”
“Thanks, sugar.” I step through the door, greeted by a cacophony of beeping machines, which are muffled by the roaring of my blood.
Being in Matteo’s presence is like standing on the edge of a ravine, crumbling under the sheer weight of my banked emotions. A howling wind pushes at my back, forcing me toward a watery abyss. If I don’t keep a tight rein on my emotions, I’ll drown.
Matteo’s hospital room is more like a luxury suite with its white walls and marble linoleum floor. Vibrant floral bouquets provide bursts of color, barely concealing the scent of antiseptic. Blue armchairs arranged around a low table occupy the first few feet of the space, and a television plays a mindless sitcom with an echoing laugh track.
The only blemish on this pristine interior is the vermin sleeping in a bed against a backdrop of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook a garden courtyard.
Matteo looks frail and small propped on a pair of pillows beneath a blue blanket. Burn scars cover his face and down his neck, reminding me of my failed attempt to send him back to hell.
The man isn’t just a parasite and a predator, he’s a prehistoric cockroach.
Walking toward him, I reach into the cleavage of my top and pull out a paracord, discarding the promise I made to Cesare to save him the killing blow.
Matteo means more to me than just a business rival. He’s the man who robbed me of my childhood, the monster who haunts my nightmares.
My heart pounds loud enough to awaken his frail carcass, even though our positions have now reversed. I’m the predator. He’s the cornered, weakened prey. Adrenaline courses through my veins, making my fingers tremble. I finally have the chance to slay my demon.
Stirring, Matteo opens his eyes and then squints as though trying to place my face. There’s a moment of recognition when his features fall slack with shock before twisting into a grotesque mask of hatred.
“Rosalind,” he snarls, bearing a mouthful of white dentures. “Are you here to kill me?”
Footsteps thunder toward me before I can answer. I whirl around, barely blocking the fist of one of the orderlies who sold me information. His fist connects with my arm, sending shooting pain down to my still-healing bullet wound.
“You know her, boss?” he shouts.
Matteo grimaces. “She’s been on my kill list for a decade.”
A second man swings a nightstick at my head, forcing me to duck. I kick out, hard and fast, my boot catching him in the knee. He stumbles forward with a pained grunt, trying to regain his balance. It’s too late. I wrap the paracord around his neck and pull tight, using the momentum to throw him into the wall.
“What the fuck are you all doing? Get her,” Matteo snarls.
Strong arms grab me from behind. I stamp down on my attacker’s foot, but his grip tightens. He lifts me off my feet.
“How do you like this, bitch?” the man restraining me says, already sounding out of breath.
I kick out at the first orderly, but the second lands a blow into my temple. Stars explode across my vision, turning the edges of my vision black.
Oh, shit.
It’s three against one.