Chapter 16

CESARE

I stand in front of Roman in Dad's old study, still feeling off my game from the effects of the sedative. My head pounds from the blow with a blunt object, my throat burns from that bitch's garrote, one side of my face is encrusted with dirt, and my hair is tangled with twigs.

Her little stunt bought her a few hours head start, and by the time I combed the grounds to find her, she was gone.

We don't know if she escaped with the men who moved my playroom to the basement or is still on the grounds, biding her time for the right moment to slit our throats.

Roman sits behind his desk, his fingers steepled, features etched with fury. Leroi just left after imparting bad news. One of the people he was supposed to have killed resurfaced at the club last night and will cause the family a shitload of trouble. And the crazy woman from the balcony is smashing up her new room.

Everything's turning to shit, and I'm taking the brunt of Roman's displeasure.

"Explain to me how you got your ass handed to you by a woman half your size," he says, his voice dangerously low.

"She's an assassin with the Moirai," I reply.

His brows rise. "Did she tell you that?"

"I worked that out by myself, but yeah, she confirmed it." I tell Roman about Gunther, who I reached through the New Alderney Times switchboard, but he's stone-faced by my deductive capabilities.

Benito probably already poured poison in his ear, which is why he's so unimpressed.

He stares up at me through eyes as dark as Dad's, and I hold his gaze, despite the way my insides want to squirm.

This is worse than failing to become a surgeon. Worse than being locked in a room and having to go cold turkey.

"You led an enemy through our gates," Roman snarls, completing that thought.

"I didn't know?—"

"You could have fucked her in the Phoenix or taken her to one of your playrooms across the street," he barks.

He's right. I should have known better. Something about Rosalind drew me in. Maybe because I saw her with Leroi so often. Maybe because she acted so unimpressed. She wove her web like a black widow spider, and I fell right into her trap.

There's no running away from the fact that I've fucked up.

"Did you get the name of her client?" Roman asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Capello."

"Which one?"

I shake my head. "She didn't know."

"And you didn't press her?"

"That was the plan until your removal men showed up to dismantle my playroom. While I was transporting her to the house, she escaped."

Roman slams his fists on the table, his eyes blazing. "Stop trying to shift the blame and fix this mess."

"Fine. I'll call her boss at the Times?—"

"Rosalind's little sister came to Leroi's apartment, demanding her whereabouts." He slides a piece of paper across the desk. "Leroi says she was wearing a Tourgis Academy sweatshirt. You're going to use the sister as bait to lure Rosalind back."

"I'll drive down there now."

"Get cleaned up before you pick up the girl, and don't screw up this second chance."

He doesn't need to tell me twice.

An hour later, I'm sitting in my Lamborghini outside Tourgis Academy's grand entrance. It reminds me of an old British manor house with its climbing ivy, impressive outbuildings, and manicured gardens. The campus is surrounded by ten-foot-high iron gates that create the illusion of exclusivity, privilege, and safety.

Rosalind and I have unfinished business, and I'm not just talking about the missing information. Thanks to her, Leroi and my brothers think I'm a bumbling fool.

She's an enigma in a beautiful little nutshell. I want to crack her open and spill her secrets. I want to watch her break. I want to taste her fear, dine on her desperation. I want her at my feet, crying tears of blood, begging for another chance to suck my cock.

Arousal shoots straight to my groin as I imagine the possibilities.

The phone rings, ruining my fantasy. But it's not Rosalind calling me for a rematch, it's Roman.

"What?" I say.

"Are you in place?"

"Right outside the gates," I reply.

"And you've made contact with the girl?"

"We're still texting. She thinks I'm taking her to big sis."

Roman pauses for a heartbeat. "Don't mess this up."

My muscles tighten and my gut roils with frustration. Everyone talks as though Rosalind is a bratty sub I'm not man enough to control, when she's actually a trained assassin skilled enough to fool even Leroi.

"I'll take care of it," I snarl.

"No excuses. We're counting on you." He hangs up before I can utter another word in my defense.

"Fuck." I slam my fists on the steering wheel. "Fucking bitch."

My phone buzzes with a text from Rosalind's sister:

They just let me out of detention. Be down in a minute.

I pull down the mirror and check my reflection. My eyes are still a little bloodshot from Rosalind's cocktail of drugs, and I'm probably still concussed, but I've looked worse.

Beyond the gates, a set of doors open, letting out a group of kids in white shirts and black blazers. The boys wear pants and the girls wear plaid miniskirts that barely reach their knees.

My lip curls. How can Rosalind approve of this for her little sister? Whoever designed this uniform needs to be on some sort of register.

As the small group filters out of the gates, one of the boys pulls on the arm of a girl with the same heart-shaped face as Rosalind's. Only she's sweeter looking and likely infinitely less infuriating. Her eyes widen, looking almost too big for the rest of her features.

The girl yanks her arm out of the boy's grip, making me chuckle. She's just as feisty as her sister. When the boy slams her against the iron railings and sticks his hand up the girl's skirt, I'm out of my car in an instant.

"Hey," I yell. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The boy turns around, his mouth gaping open with shock. He takes one look at my scowl and backs away with both hands raised. "Hey, man. We were just talking."

"Since when did boys talk to girls like that?" I ask, my voice low.

The boy's face pales. "I-I was just kidding around. It wasn't that deep. I was just trying to be funny."

I grab him by the collar and slam his head against the iron railing. "Then you won't mind telling me your name."

He gulps. "T-Toby."

"Toby what?"

"Who are you?" He squeezes his eyes shut.

"His name's Toby Nesbitt," the girl says, her voice sharp with an edge of viciousness. "He's a senior at our school, and he's a bully and a dick."

I grab little Toby by the throat. "Stay away from this girl. Don't touch her, don't talk to her, don't look at her, don't even think about her unless you want to lose your teeth. Got that?"

Toby swallows hard. "Yes, sir."

"Now, apologize to Miranda."

His gaze darts in her direction. "I-I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I turn to the girl. "Anything you want to tell him, love?"

Her face tightens. "Yeah. Stop talking about me, Toby. Or I'll break your nose."

The boy nods.

"You heard the lady." I shake him hard enough to make his teeth rattle. "Now, scram."

Toby scampers away, not turning back until he joins a group of kids at the other end of the road.

The girl turns to me and beams, her eyes sparkling. "Thanks for coming to my rescue. Are you Cesare?"

"That's right." I give her my most charming smile. "Rosalind lost her phone, so she asked me to tell you not to worry."

Her shoulders sag with relief. "That's great. She missed an important meeting at school and didn't call or text. I was so worried. She's never late for anything. I was about to call the cops."

I chuckle. "Want me to take you to her?"

Her gaze wanders to the Lamborghini. "Is that your car?"

I nod. "Want a ride?"

She glances at the small group of kids still lingering on the street and bites her lip. "How do I know you're not a stranger?"

Clever girl. I'm proud of her caution. I reach into the pocket of my leather jacket and pull out a scrap of paper. "Recognize this?"

She glances down at it, her brows furrowing. "I left that with her boyfriend, Leroi."

"Ex," I mutter. "They broke up. I'm her new man."

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. "Really?"

I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and scroll to the photos app. "Recognize this guy?" I show her a selfie I took of Benito and Leroi the night before the Capello massacre. "That's me with my cousin."

Her breath catches. "You and Leroi are related?"

I nod. "You went to Leroi's apartment this morning, looking for your sister. He was telling the truth when he said she wasn't there. She was with me."

Miranda stares up into my eyes, scrutinizing my features for the truth. I gaze back, having nothing to hide.

"I might be the rebound guy, but I've liked Rosalind for months. She brightens my evening every time she comes to my club."

Her jaw drops, and her cheeks turn pink. "You own the Phoenix?"

"Want a tour?" I ask.

"Let's go!" She jogs to the Lamborghini.

Chuckling, I open the passenger side door, letting her scamper inside. Once we're both settled in, I turn the key, and the engine rumbles.

Miranda bounces in her seat, her gaze taking in the illuminated dashboard and leather interior. Gasping, she says, "This is so cool!"

My chest inflates with pride. "Buckle up, sweetheart, it's going to be a wild ride."

Miranda squeals and fastens her seatbelt. "I'm ready."

As I pull out of the parking spot and drive past the gawking kids, she turns to meet their stares and gives them the middle finger.

Snickering, I activate the central locking and turn up the music.

What a cute kid.

It's almost a pity that I plan on breaking her sister.