Chapter 14

CESARE

I jostle Benito out of the pool house, not wanting him anywhere near my Rosalind. My brother hasn't gotten laid since he was dumped by his fiancée. He acts like he hates women, but Rosalind is hot enough to tempt even a eunuch.

We move in silence until we step out into the pool area. Benito directs me to the narrow path that leads through the bushes that surround the building's posterior, and points at the security camera.

"Leroi told me everything. Did you know she snuck out through the bathroom window to search around the grounds?"

"You saw her on camera?" I ask.

"No. I saw the window open, and the shrubbery move, but there was no sign of the woman."

"What are you saying?"

"Whoever she works for must have supplied her with an advanced form of anti-surveillance clothing. Have you found out the name of her firm?"

"We were getting there before you interrupted," I reply.

Benito's lips tighten. "How the hell did you bring an assassin of that caliber into our home?"

I flinch, my blood heating with resentment, already sick of the double standards. Sometimes, I wonder if they know my secret because I've always been the family scapegoat.

Every mistake I make is amplified until it becomes the original sin. The rest of them can screw up and get the benefit of the doubt.

"Did you ask Leroi the same question?" I growl.

He doesn't reply because the answer is obvious. Benito wouldn't dare question Leroi or ask why our cousin, the trained assassin, couldn't recognize a colleague in disguise.

"Rosalind was Leroi's fuck buddy for months until he discarded her and found someone else. Was it wrong to assume he'd already checked her out and made sure she was harmless?"

Benito's pinched expression fades, replaced by something less judgmental, but there's still no sign of an apology.

I fold my arms across my chest. "So, it's okay when Leroi fucks up, but I get called out for doing the same?"

"What have you found out?" he asks.

"Still working on her," I say with a smirk. "She has a high tolerance to pain, so I've had to get creative."

"You've had her for long enough. What's taking so long?"

Annoyance simmers beneath my skin, itching to explode in a hot rush of fury. Benito is an asshole whose only vice is being condescending. Instead of fucking away his troubles like any normal man, he lives to be a perfectionist and a critic. He belittles everyone yet can't even see his own shortcomings.

Shoulders squaring, I close the gap between us and glare into his arrogant face. "She drugged me with something that made me black out on and off. Part of that time, I was wandering around the grounds, off my head on her sedative."

Benito frowns.

"You remember seeing me under the balcony, right?"

He gives me a hesitant nod.

"I was drugged, incoherent, and with no memories of the night before and you didn't notice I needed help?"

He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "I had my hands full. The police were at the gates with a warrant to arrest the woman who was trying to throw herself off the tower."

"We all make mistakes, brother. Part of being a better man is acknowledging your own fuckups." I clap him on the shoulder.

He pulls away, his features morphing back into their usual stern self-righteousness. "Roman wants you to move your... equipment to the basement."

"Why?" I snap.

"He needs to turn the pool house into an art studio."

My jaw clenches and I curl my fists. "I've used that space for years."

"Roman's special guest needs it," Benito says with a huff. "And she's more important to us than a woman you're going to kill."

I can't argue with that. Roman has the dirty job of romancing that crazy balcony woman out of hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of her late father's assets. Rosalind's interrogation can take place anywhere.

"When do you need us out?" I ask.

"The removal boys will come down in ten minutes to reinstall your furniture in the basement."

"Fine," I growl. "Anything else?"

"Find out who hired her, and how she hid from the cameras. Keep us updated."

Benito turns on his heel and walks across the lawn. I glare at his back, wondering if he thinks I'm just tormenting her for my own pleasure. Admittedly, I enjoy watching Rosalind squirm, but I wanted to get the answers in my own time.

Instead of walking around the front of the pool house, I continue around its perimeter to the back. My gaze follows the security camera, which swivels with my movement. I climb in through the bathroom window and land in a low crouch, trying to retrace the steps Rosalind made while sneaking about and gathering intel. She'll expect me to walk in through the door, and I want to observe her from another angle.

A female voice sounds from the other room, making my breath catch. Did she break free and remove the gag? I hurry to the door and crack it open.

The voice doesn't belong to Rosalind, but Roman's woman from the balcony. I'm pretty sure her name was Emberly. She's frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Rosalind, horrified.

Chuckling, I take off my shirt and roll my shoulders. It's time to give her a little show. I step out, my gaze raking up and down her body. She's tall and wiry, with unruly curls, huge green eyes and without Rosalind's impressive tits.

"Have you come to play?" I ask with a raised brow.

Her eyes widen, and she stammers, her voice raising an octave with each incoherent word. I advance on her with a grin, making her skitter backward. As soon as she turns her back, I roar with laughter.

Poor Roman. The only thing wild about that woman is her hair. And maybe her temper. For once in my twenty-four years of life, I have the more exciting toy.

Rosalind releases an incoherent tirade.

I turn back to where she's splayed out on the chair. "Don't worry, pet. Nothing could ever captivate both my heart and my cock as completely as the way you take my revolver."

Her features twist into a rictus of fury. I close the distance between us and stick my fingers through the ring gag and down her throat. Rosalind chokes, her eyes watering.

"We don't have much time, so I'll make this quick. Are you ready to answer my questions?"

Nodding, she loosens a tear.

She must have noticed I didn't spin the revolver's barrel, increasing her odds of being eviscerated in the next round of pussy roulette. No assassin, no matter how well trained, can survive a bullet tearing through her internal organs.

I pull my fingers out of her mouth and trace the wet trail with my tongue. Rosalind tries to jerk away, but I hold her steady by the neck.

"When I remove your gag, all I want to hear from you is the truth. Is that understood?"

She nods.

"Alright." I reach behind her head, unbuckle the leather straps, and slip the ring from behind her teeth.

Rosalind breathes hard, her features tight, her pretty hazel eyes burning with fiery hatred. "What do you want to know?"

"What's the name of your firm?"

She swallows. "The Moirai Group."

"And your client?"

"Capello."

"Which one?"

"I don't know," she rasps.

"How many of us were you sent to kill?"

She hesitates.

"What?" I snap.

"None. I was supposed to gather information on you via Leroi," she says, her gaze dropping to the floor. "When he stopped responding to me and you came along?—"

"And you decided to take advantage of the opportunity?" I say through clenched teeth.

She shrugs.

"What kind of information?" I ask.

"Hidden entrances, security systems, and any weaknesses we can exploit."

"Why?"

"They didn't say," she mutters. "I just gather the intel."

"How did you remain undetected by the cameras?"

"A catsuit made of a fabric that disrupts infrared and thermal imaging. Before you ask, I dissolved it in the bath."

Frustration wells in my gut, and I exhale through flared nostrils. We could have passed on the fabric to our meth team for analysis. "What about the drug?"

"I slipped oxypentanol in the vodka. It's a formula developed by the firm's research and development team," she replies in a monotone. "I have a question for you. How did you wake up without the antidote?"

"What can I say, pet? I have a fantastic anatomy."

Her gaze drops down to the erection straining through my pants. "I've had bigger."

"And then Leroi moved onto someone less aggravating."

She scowls, her lips pursing, mirroring my own displeasure. I leave her stewing in her own insecurities and walk to the section where I keep the restraints. After selecting handcuffs, leg irons, and a waist chain, I return to where she's still trying to burn me to ash with the force of her glare.

"I'm going to release you for transportation. If you're a good girl and behave yourself when I attach these restraints, I'll grant you one request. Though I'm hoping you'll be bad."

"What happens if I don't cooperate?" she asks.

"I'll make you wish you'd lost that game of pussy roulette."

She shudders. "Fine. I won't resist."

I position myself between her spread legs and unbuckle the first wrist cuff. Rosalind's arm flops down to her thighs, a dead weight from being elevated for so long.

She groans with relief, the sound going straight to my aching cock.

"Good girl." I move to the next cuff and release her arm, which also falls to her side.

As I turn to reach for a handcuff, a fist hits my balls with the intensity of a miniature freight train. Pain explodes through my groin. My knees buckle, and I drop to my floor, clutching my screaming testicles.

"Fuck!" I roar.

She leaps off the bondage chair, grabs my discarded shirt, and races out of the playroom.

Breathing hard through the agony, I make a count of three before rising to my feet and giving chase.

Rosalind is going to be my most exhilarating prey.