Page 94 of Breaking Rosalind
Silence hangs in the air like a guillotine as Cesare glares down at me like I’m a piece of shit. I force my breath to even, not wanting him to see the stress in my vital signs.
Cesare doesn’t strike me as a man who would judge a woman for having a one-night stand, but he might be envious of his older, more experienced cousin.
As an only child who spent the first eleven years of my life in a boarding school, my knowledge of family dynamics is only theoretical, but I think Cesare might have some sibling rivalry. Our intel stated Leroi lived in Enzo Montesano’s estate until he was ten.
The door swings open, making my head snap toward the exit. Roman Montesano steps in, wearing a burgundy robe and a face like a thunderstorm.
His gaze locks with mine for the brief moment it takes for Cesare to rush forward and usher his older brother out into the hallway.
When the door slams shut, I close my eyes, strain my ears, and try to eavesdrop.
“What happened last night?” Even though Roman’s voice is muffled, I can still sense his tone is urgent.
Cesare hesitates for a beat before whispering, “What are you talking about?”
“Tania was found dead in the dumpster.”
For a moment, I think they’ve walked away, until Roman adds, “The staff say you were last seen rushing out to the exit that leads out to the alley.”
My breath shallows as I lean as far toward the door as my bindings will allow. If I remember the intel correctly, Tania was a university student who worked at the Phoenix as a bartender.
Roman’s voice drifts back into my consciousness. “You turned off the security camera and erased five minutes of footage.”
“One of Galliano’s men was out in the alley,” Cesare says. “I deleted the footage so I could kill him without witnesses.”
“Is that why you went without backup?”
Cesare doesn’t reply.
“This looks suspicious,” Roman says, his voice heavy with accusation.
“I didn’t kill her,” Cesare snarls.
“Gil says last time he saw Tania, you were choking her against the bathroom wall because she saw you waterboarding Ricky Ferraro.”
“But I let her go,” he says.
“Then four other employees said you came in days later and fired Tania while you were drinking with an underaged girl in an academy uniform.”
My jaw drops.
Are they talking about Miranda?
THIRTY-SEVEN
CESARE
I should have killed Matty Galliano the moment I stepped out into the alleyway and damned the consequences. Now, Roman is glaring at me like I’m the type of serial killer that targets women.
Galliano must have killed Tania while I was rushing out to meet him and dragged her body behind that dumpster. In a panic, I turned off the only cameras that could prove my innocence.
“I’m going to ask you a question, little brother,” Roman says, his voice heavy with suspicion and tinged with disgust. “And I want a straight answer.”
My throat tightens and sweat breaks out across my brow. This is it. The moment he realizes I’m not a Montesano but a product of Galliano scum.
“Did you kill Tania?” he asks.
“No.” I meet his accusation with an unwavering gaze