Chapter 107

ROSALIND

I sit up against the bed's iron headrest, my ears straining to eavesdrop on Miranda's conversation with Cesare. Sofia stands behind the door with a smile playing on her lips, which tells me it's going well.

My little girl deserves the world.

Telling her the truth has been a burden off my chest. I now feel like we finally have a bond.

Miranda will probably still call me Rosa, but at least she knows that her mother didn't die that terrible afternoon. She knows her real mother moved heaven and earth to make sure she never had to suffer the same type of abuse.

Cesare walks in, clad in monogrammed silk pajamas that cling to his athletic frame. The morning sun shines through the loose strands in his hair, making them glow amber.

My breath catches, and my pulse quickens the way it did when I was his captive. Only this time, that desperate need for his presence isn't because of Stockholm syndrome or sensory deprivation or the result of a twisted power game.

This time, my excitement for him is fueled by emotions that have taken root deep within my heart—emotions I can no longer deny.

Knowing that he took time to speak with Miranda fills my heart until it overflows. She finally has a familial connection with another person I know can give her the love she needs and deserves.

He hesitates at the foot of the bed, his eyes searching for permission to approach. We didn't get the chance to speak much last night. I was too busy comforting Miranda, and he worked for hours with Benito and the others to make sure Gunther didn't have any more accomplices.

Based on a review of Gunther's phone, it turns out he was working with Dr. Daniel to capture me. When our Chief Medical Officer stopped responding to his messages after we captured him, Gunther left HQ to retrace his steps and missed the bombing.

I reach out a hand and beckon Cesare forward, my heart skipping a beat when his expression relaxes, and his pale eyes glimmer with hope.

"Tell me something," I say as he approaches my side.

He takes my hand and brings my knuckles to his lips. "Anything."

"What made you think I couldn't overcome my fear of water to save Miranda?"

Grimacing, he lowers himself onto the mattress, making it dip. "There was no point getting us both killed. Gunther wanted you dead. And I didn't know if we would find a dingy or a submarine filled with assassins."

"That's why you revived Matteo from the brink of death?" I ask.

"He was expendable, and I couldn't wait for Benito." His gaze drops to our intertwined hands. "I went out there, not knowing if I was coming back. At least if I slowed you down, my brother would track my location and bring you back Miranda. She needed her mother."

"And not her big brother?" I ask.

He smiles. "I always wanted a younger sibling to protect."

"You have one, now, and I don't want you risking your life."

Still smiling, he peers at me through the corner of my eye. "Why not?"

"You know why, dickhead." I try to pull my hand away, but his grip tightens.

"No, I don't."

He turns to look me full in the face, his eyes burning with more intensity than I can withstand. Now, it's my turn to lower my lashes.

"I care for you, alright?" I mutter.

"But it's more than that, isn't it, pet?"

"Don't call me pet," I mumble.

"I'll continue calling you that until you tell the truth," he replies.

My jaw tightens. Words of affirmation aren't my style, since they're so easily faked. Can't he tell I want to be with him because I haven't escaped? He can, which is why he won't stop prodding. He wants me to say the words.

"Okay, you're right."

"About what, pet?" He cups a hand behind his ear.

I bristle. "For fuck's sake, Cesare."

"You're too afraid to admit that you love me because every man in your life has been a disappointment, or worse. I've seen you at your best and worst, and I'm still obsessed. You're everything I never knew I wanted in a woman. You're deadly, beautiful, strong, and you love with all your heart. I just need to know if there's space there for me."

Tears burn my eyes, and I blink them back. I've shed enough of them over a man who was nothing but a monster, but Cesare is different. He's allowed me into his home and heart, followed through on his promises, and laid down his life so I wouldn't have to sacrifice mine.

Cesare broke through my defenses, making me crave not only his touch but his companionship. I love spending time with him, I love how he brings Miranda and me together. I love the way he makes me feel alive.

Life without Cesare would be bleak, so why can't I form the words?

"What is it?" he asks. "Is this because I'm Matty's son?"

My head snaps up, and I meet his frown. "Of course not. Miranda is Matty's daughter, and I love her more than anything."

He cocks his head. "So, this is because I'm your daughter's brother, and you think that makes me your stepson?"

I suppress a shudder. "You're more like a step-brother."

"Rosalind," he says, his voice a low command.

"What?"

"Stop overthinking things and tell me you love me."

My chest squeezes with emotions that have been building long before our truce. No man has ever made me feel the entire range of emotions. No man has ever awakened so much vulnerability and raw desire in me as Cesare.

There's a bond between us forged in hate and love and everything in between. A bond steeped in pain yet healed by his compassion. He's torn back the layers of my soul, gathered my broken pieces, and put them back together again. That's not something I can encapsulate in words.

"Maybe love is too weak to describe how I feel," I say, my voice thickening with emotion. "Anyone can say it, even the most callous, soulless creatures. But you awaken parts of me that I thought were dead. You make me feel like I'm home."

His eyes soften, and the grip on my hand tightens. "That's love."

"Is it?" I ask. "Because what I feel for you is bigger than just love."

His eyes soften. "If you can't say it, then show me."

"Not here." My gaze darts to the door. "Miranda might return with her breakfast?—"

"Sofia told me she'll keep her for a few hours, so we can talk." He smirks, placing emphasis on that last word.

"Lock the door, so we can have a nice long conversation," I say, mimicking his tone.

With a grin, Cesare rises off the mattress and hurries to the door. The soft click of the latch sends a pleasant shiver down my spine that travels straight to my pussy.

He strolls back, his pale eyes blazing with desire, but I'm more fascinated by the long, thick cock straining though his silk pajama pants. The pulse between my legs thuds so hard and fast that its vibrations spread down my inner thighs.

"Better?" he asks, his deep voice curling around my senses and making every inch of my skin tingle.

"Much." I shift on the mattress, my skin already burning with anticipation. What is it about Cesare that makes me so weak? The answer is simple. I've finally met the one who makes me feel safe. A man who will never stab me in the back.

There are no hidden agendas with Cesare. He always communicates his intentions. And he's exactly my type. Sensitive but brash. Vulnerable yet strong. And an endless source of physical attraction.

But that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over. I love the way he wrestles me into submission.

He sides beside me on the mattress, his fingers reaching for the button of my pajama top. "Remember what I said about us talking?" he says as he pops the first button. "That was a lie, pet. I'm going to fuck so much love into your tight little cunt that you'll scream your feelings."

I grab his wrist with a hard yank that throws him off-balance. Before he can react, I maneuver myself to pin him onto his side, slide my hand into his open fly, and wrap my fingers around his hard cock.

"What are you doing?" he asks with a laugh.

"Starting as I mean to continue." I give his earlobe a sharp nip. "I like it when you take control, but sometimes I want to be the one who makes you squirm."

"Bad girl."

I squeeze him around his base so hard that he makes a choking sound. "Maybe I'm the one who wants to fuck love into you."

Breathing hard, he lets me stroke up and down his shaft and shivers as my fingers glide over the piercings around his crown.

"Sensitive?" I ask.

"Only around you," he says. "No one's ever done it for me from the moment you walked into the club. Now, let go of my cock, and kneel for me like a good little pet."

I slide my hand down his shaft and reach for his balls, weighing them between my fingers. "Maybe you should be the one kneeling between my spread legs."

Cesare groans as I give his balls a gentle squeeze. "Pets who misbehave don't get their pussies licked."

"What did you call me?" I squeeze harder, eliciting a moan so deep I feel it in the marrow of my bones.

He swallows hard. "Pet."

I squeeze harder, implanting my nails in his sac, and making his body jerk. "Try again."

"You're racking up the punishments," he says with a low growl that sends a thrill of excitement up my spine.

"Fine words coming from a man who's pinned on a mattress with me holding his balls hostage."

He flips us both across the mattress, so I'm the one lying on my back. I reach for his neck, but he grabs my wrist and pins it above my head. My other hand snakes between our bodies to take control of his balls again, but he captures that wrist in an iron grip.

"Hold onto the headboard," he growls, his eyes burning with lust.

I laugh. "Hell, no."

His lips pull back in a predatory grin, the same one that used to make my blood run cold. But now, my pulse races, and I'm heating up with lust. Back when I was his captive, that sinister smile signaled impending terror. Now, that grin holds the promise of a thrill.

Moving my wrists together, he holds them within one hand, and yanks the silk of my pajamas down to my hands to form a makeshift restraint.

"Hey, that's not fair," I say.

"Nothing about this is fair, but you're going to take my cock like a good girl." His voice is so smoky with desire that I almost lose track that I should be struggling.

Twisting the fabric, he loops the bulk of it around my wrist, each brush of his fingers on my skin creating electric sparks. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to stem the arousal. As he lashes the pajama top around the headboard's spokes, I buck my hips, trying to throw him off.

"You're not getting me so easily," I say, my voice breathy.

The legs straddling my rib cage clamp with enough pressure on my lungs to make me gasp. Sensing the beginning of breath play, my pussy becomes slick.

When he knots the rope and gives it a testing tug, he finally releases the pressure around my chest. He stares down at me, his features grave. "Remember this, Rosalind. Good pets who stay in their cages get orgasms. Bad pets who escape get edged with no mercy."

"Who are you calling a pet?"

My protest is half-hearted because I know it's just a game. Cesare is one of the few men who respects me as an equal, at least outside of the bedroom.

His answer is to grab the front of my pajama top and yanks it apart, sending buttons flying across the mattress. My adrenaline surges, and a breath catches in my throat as he exposes my breasts to the cool air.

"You're mine, Rosalind," he snarls, his fingers trailing a path from my collarbone down to my belly button. "Mine to keep, mine love, mine to protect, mine to pleasure, mine to punish."

Shivers break out across my skin.

Punish?