Page 86 of Breaking Rosalind
Leroi grins. “Healing.”
Benito shifts in his seat. “Cesare is here.” He turns to me. “What did you find out from the assassin?”
“Hi Cesare,” says a soft voice.
Seraphine sits on the bed beside Leroi, wearing a blood-stained robe. Her hair is now a mid-brown compared to the rich espresso from the night before.
I flash her a grin. “You taking care of my cousin?”
She leans on Leroi’s arm and nods.
“What did Rosalind say?” Benito asks.
Standing between the two sofas, I deliver a full report, starting with how she arrived in the alley with an accomplice who escaped with her sister.
“Her accomplice crushed Rizzo and Barzelli’s squad car,” Roman mutters.
I raise a shoulder. “My plan worked, and I’ve made sure Rosalind won’t ever escape. She says the only way to cancel the hit Samson placed on us is if he calls it off himself or the firm gets evidence of his death.”
“Oh.” Seraphine places a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes widening.
“What?” I ask.
“Samson’s dead. I just electrocuted him in the bath.”
Leroi gazes down at her as though she’s said something cute.
“Shit,” Benito mutters.
“What does the firm want?” Roman asks. “A death certificate?”
“Seraphine severed his head,” Leroi says. “Would that work?”
Roman leans forward in his seat, rests his forearms on his thighs, and frowns. “I need to send that head to the Di Marco Law Group.”
Leroi raises a brow. “So they know he’s no longer in line for the inheritance?”
“Yeah.” Roman turns to me. “Take a leakproof container down to the cottage beneath the sycamore tree and deliver the head to Joseph Di Marco.”
“I killed him,” Leroi says.
“Then Cesare will send it to whoever’s in charge,” Roman growls.
I scowl. “Why not Gil?”
My big brother raises his brows. I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. He’s only been out of prison for just over a week. That doesn’t give him the right to act like he’s Dad.
“Cesare,” he says, his voice low. “Benito just led a series of raids to gain back control of the meth lab, the warehouse by the dock, and the crew of the Bella Lucia.”
I flinch at the mention of Mom’s name. One quick glance at my other brother tells me he’s no longer affected by her absence. Benito has a way of dismissing anything he deems as irrelevant.
“You forgot about my arrangement with the Salentino sisters at the Newtown Crematorium,” Benito adds.
Without missing a beat, Roman adds, “And he’s also liaising with insiders at the casino for when we get it back.”
My back stiffens, and I cast another glance at Benito, whose gaze is glacial. He doesn’t need to say the words because I hear them loud and clear. Benito takes on so much work because he thinks I’m weak and can’t handle the weight of being a Montesano.
“You could have asked me for help,” I mutter.