Page 70 of Breaking Rosalind
“Fuck,” Leroi roars and tries to break free.
“Stay still and let the doctor do his job,” my brother says, his stern voice hiding his unease. He holds Leroi in place until the last of the straps are secured around his body.
“Thanks, Roman.” Dr. Brunelli glances at the girl, then at me. “Leave the operating room, please, and check the young lady for injuries.”
When the girl remains rooted in place, I move behind her and reach for her shoulder to guide her out. She spins, brandishing a scalpel.
Before it reaches my throat, I snatch her wrist and hold her in an arm lock. Nice try, but after getting blindsided by Rosalind, it’s best to assume that any woman involved with Leroi is going to be a handful.
Leroi continues to struggle against his restraints, grunting and cursing until his words become an incoherent blur.
“Easy, love,” I say, my voice soothing. “Leroi is safe with Dr. Brunelli. He’s been with the family since before we were even born.”
She stares up at me, her eyes wide with terror.
Earlier, Roman interrupted my time with Rosalind to explain that Samson Capello had taken Leroi’s girl hostage at a mansion lower down on Alderney Hill. It looks like spending time with that sick bastard has left her traumatized and stab happy.
“I’m Cesare.” I flick my head behind us toward the three struggling men. “Roman’s youngest brother.”
She stiffens, her face paling.
I’m an ally. Why is she scared of me?
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“None of your business,” she snaps, her voice trembling.
“Fucking sedate him,” Roman growls in the background, holding down Leroi’s head as it thrashes.
“Already one step ahead of you,” the doctor replies.
“Alright, Miss None-of-your-business, it’s time to go.” Still gripping her by the wrist, I usher the girl out of the chaotic operating room, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Her scalpel drops to the floor with a satisfying clink, and I guide her to the fold-up seat.
While I appreciate a pretty woman with a blade, the one she holds is already stained with blood. Besides, if anyone’s going to slash me across the face, I want it to be Rosalind.
I pick up the dirty scalpel and toss it in the sharps’ disposal bin, just as Leroi’s girl reaches into the sterile tray to steal a fresh blade.
She has the same delicate stature as Miranda. At first glance, they could easily be the same age. This one is older, despite looking so innocent. The difference is in their eyes. Miranda is all brightness and sweetness and light. Leroi’s girl has a darkness that might exceed even mine.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
My gaze wanders to a nick on the side of her neck. I gesture in its direction and ask, “What’s that all about?”
She covers the wound.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head, her fingers tightening around the scalpel.
“Alright, then.” I raise my palms, letting her know I don’t mean any harm.
The girl is skittish, wearing men’s clothes that are at least twelve sizes too big. Something really fucked up must have gone down at Capello’s hideout, which is why she’s refusing medical attention. Every man in that family was the worst kind of sexual deviant.
I swallow hard, my mind scrambling for the best choice of words. “If what happened up there went deeper than the cut to your neck, I know a female doctor who can prescribe Plan B and test for infections.”