Page 260 of Breaking Rosalind
“Thanks, but I can handle myself.”
I slip the life jacket over my head. If I can overcome this fear, then telling Miranda the truth about our past will be easy. I might even stop denying my feelings for Cesare because what we have is more than just a truce. And he’s more than just a spoiled mafia prince.
Benito revs his jet ski and speeds off without a second glance. I throw a leg over the second vehicle, my fingers gripping the handlebar for dear life.
Gazing out across the choppy, black waters, I force my breaths to slow. This is for Miranda. Cesare. For our little family. With a silent prayer, I punch the ignition, and the engine roars to life.
Blank terror clouds my vision as the jet ski lurches forward, and a cold spray rushes up to meet my face, stinging my eyes and nose. I blink away the seawater and focus on Benito’s disappearing silhouette.
If I can get through this in one piece, I’ll stop fussing over Miranda’s grades and worrying about what she eats. I’ll stop pushing Cesare away.
Shifting my weight forward, I squeeze the throttle, making the jet ski accelerate. It bucks beneath my feet, surging forward like a wild horse. Wave after wave slams into the small vessel, but I hold steady. Within moments, I catch up with Benito and let the roar of the engine drown out my thoughts.
Up ahead, a procession of speedboats race toward a large motorboat, where a gray-haired figure stands on a swimming platform. His back is turned to us, but from the way he angles his arm, it looks like he’s holding a gun.
“Is that your boss?” Benito yells over the engine’s roar.
It takes a few seconds to work out that the man isn’t Gunther, and my stomach plummets to the sea. “It’s Matteo Galliano.”
“I thought he was dead.”
My jaw clenches. “So did I.”
ONE HUNDRED FOUR
CESARE
Fury pounds through my chest with a touch of terror. It’s even worse than how I felt when he confronted me at the airport because there’s no plane to protect Miranda.
I push her toward my back and say, “Go back inside.”
This time, she doesn’t argue. With a whimper, she disappears back into the boat.
As soon as I’m sure she’s safe, I turn back to the soon-to-be-dead bastard. He sways on his feet, his breath ragged, his eyes getting glassier by the minute.
“What are you going to do, old man?” I say through clenched teeth. “You going to shoot me?”
He lowers his gun. “Be reasonable, Cesare. You’re my only son.”
“Did you ever wonder how you lost your other children?”
He frowns. “They were assassinated. Why are you getting between me and my daughter?”
“You spent your entire life terrorizing innocent people. Fucking them over. They died because of you. You, your brother, and your twisted associates messed with the wrong people, and they paid the price.”
His face crumples, and tears roll down his cheeks. This remorseless monster is finally putting together the consequences of his actions. “What are you saying? What’s this got to do with my girl?”
“I want you to know that everything you’ve done has led to this moment. You losing the family you held dear and being despised by the children you have left.”
His eyes widen, and his lips part with a denial. Before he can spew any more bullshit, I shoot him in the throat. The gun drops from his fingers, and he falls backward into the water.
I walk to the edge of the platform and look down at the face of Matty Galliano. The man who raped and impregnated Mom. The man who did the same to Rosalind.
Seeing him floating on his back, choking on blood gurgling from his mouth and throat gives me immense satisfaction.
His watery eyes meet mine, his features etched with betrayal and pain. He mouths my name, but the sound is lost to the crashing of the waves.
“Be grateful you’re too repulsive to me to keep alive,” I say. “Because I would like nothing more than to torture you for the rest of your pathetic life.”