Page 74 of Breaking Rosalind
If she sounds so carefree, then maybe she isn’t hurt? Abuse isn’t that simple, though. There were times Matteo made me feel beautiful, special, wanted.
“How’s New York?”
“Great,” I reply, my voice strained.
“Did you know Britt is holding me captive in a tiny apartment? I’m missing a test while you’re on a shopping trip with your amazing new boyfriend.”
Her complaints accelerate. She misses her friends, her freedom, and she’s missing a week of detention for misdemeanors she won’t reveal.
My heart races as she speaks, and I struggle to process her words through a haze of frustration, longing, rage and relief. She has no idea that this supposedly amazing boyfriend of mine has me trapped in the BDSM boudoir from hell.
“Slow down, baby,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. “You’re speaking too fast.”
“Ugh, don’t call me that,” she says with a huff.
I dare not reprimand her. Keeping my voice even, I ask, “What happened the night you met Cesare?”
“When he picked me up from the academy?”
“Yes.”
“We went to the Phoenix,” she replies, her words speeding up with excitement, completely oblivious to my rising panic. “Did you ever see his office? It’s got leather seats and an entire wall of security screens. He let me try the DJ booth, and we ordered cocktails, but the waitress spat in them, so we went to his restaurant next door and sang karaoke! Then we had the best burgers ever with meat from Japan and the milkshakes were so?—”
“Miri,” I say, my voice rising with restrained hysteria. “Did he hurt you?”
Another pause, and my insides twist at the thought of that monster hurting my little girl. Bile rises to my throat, and I swallow back the mounting dread.
Miranda bursts into a peal of giggles. “It was a prop.”
“What?”
“After we watched Saw, we wanted to play a prank. That bear trap thing was a prop.”
My stomach lurches. “But did he touch you?”
“Like what?”
“Miri,” I say, my voice strained. “What did I tell you about older men?”
“Ew, no!” I can almost hear her wrinkle her nose. “I would never try to hook up with your boyfriend. All he ever talked about was you.”
Despite her reassurance, my gaze drifts to Cesare’s face, who glares down at me with sick satisfaction. I swallow hard, trying to keep my attention on the phone.
“He’s a hundred times better than Leroi.”
“You met him?” I ask.
“When you weren’t at your apartment, I searched through your tablet and found his address.”
Nausea grips me by the throat. Leroi really told his psycho cousin I had a sister.
“Were you wearing your academy uniform?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“How did you know?” She only hesitates for a beat before continuing. “Leroi’s too grumpy and old. I approve of your new man. He’s perfect. Can I talk to him now?”
Cesare taps a button on the phone to take it off the speaker, his smile widening as he brings it to his ear. He turns his back on me and walks to the door, deep in conversation with Miranda.
My gaze bores into his broad back, and my mind reels with confusion. She likes him. They had fun together and established some kind of friendship. She doesn’t know that beneath that handsome facade is a crazed maniac who enjoys torturing women.