Page 29 of Breaking Rosalind

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Page 29 of Breaking Rosalind

“Most firms of assassins are small boutiques, run by a single coordinator.” I hold up a knife and make a show of examining its blade. “Only one is influential enough to infiltrate the New Alderney Times.”

Her breath quickens. “What are you talking about?”

My cousin, Leroi, is probably the best assassin in New Alderney. When we were discussing ways to save my big brother from the electric chair, he talked us through our options.

We needed to assassinate a whole host of corrupt officials who had been bribed to convict Roman for a crime he didn’t commit, all while making sure nothing led back to us. Once they were dead, we had to wipe out the family of the man who framed him for murder.

Leroi said there was only one firm large enough to take on the job, but paying for a job of that scale would leave a money trail connecting back to us. That firm is rumored to have its own academy and branches all over the world.

“You work for the Moirai Group.” I hold the blade to her throat. “If the next word I hear from you is bullshit, I will slice open every major blood vessel and bathe your delectable body in crimson.”

She shivers, her gaze sweeping down my crumpled black shirt to the erection straining through my pants.

“You promised me a scalpel,” she says, her voice breathy. It’s a pathetic attempt to employ reverse psychology.

“I lied. As did your handler.”

“So, what now?” she arches her back, and my gaze drops to her breasts.

I run the flat of the blade down her cheek, and stare into the most intricately colored hazel irises. They’re a dark green that borders on gray with pale striations lit up by a stardust of amber. Her fear is masked by a spark of defiance that draws me closer.

“It would be a shame to ruin such a pretty face,” I say with a grin. “I’ll leave that until last.”

She shivers. “Anything I can do to change your mind?”

I drag the knife down her jawline and press its tip into her neck. She barely flinches from the sting, further confirming my suspicions that she’s a trained assassin, but the sight of her blood is too intoxicating to resist.

Leaning in, I swipe up the crimson trail with my tongue.“Delicious.”

When her breath quickens, I draw back to find her nipples tightening and her clit swelling. Heat shoots straight to my cock. There’s no faking that level of arousal.

She releases a nervous chuckle. “What is this, death by a thousand cuts?”

My little captive is so bold, so brave, so brilliantly suited to my tastes. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re my perfect toy.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” she asks.

“Assassins like you are untraceable. I can take my time, breaking you with no fear of being reported to the police.”

“Wait,” she says. “Aren’t you going to interrogate?—”

I lean forward and silence her with a kiss. She parts her lips to protest, but I slip my tongue into her mouth. She tastes sweet—a tantalizing cocktail of fear and desire. I feast on her mouth, savoring the feel of her lips and teeth and tongue.

When I pull away, she’s thrashing against her restraints. “Cesare,” she says through panting breaths. “Don’t you have questions?”

“Just one.”

I stride to the other side of the playroom, toward the shelves where I keep my most prized toys. The one I’m looking for sits inside a metal box.

Flipping it open, I extract an antique revolver with a wooden grip and a twelve-inch barrel.

“Hey, Rosalind?” I say.

“What?”

“Have you ever played pussy roulette?”

THIRTEEN




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