Chapter 27

CESARE

My jaw drops. I step backward, my calves bumping into the chair.

What the fuck happened to Leroi?

Our cousin grimaces, his face drenched in sweat. He's clinging to the same tiny woman he brought to the Phoenix, only she's no longer wearing a sparkly gold dress.

Her face is pale. Too pale for the deep coffee shade of her hair, more aligned with her huge, cornflower blue irises. Our gazes lock, and the expression crossing her features borders on terror.

"Bring him here." Dr. Brunelli flings open the door to his operating room, letting Roman sling Leroi onto the unoccupied cot.

"I'm fine," Leroi grits out between clenched teeth.

The doctor scoffs. "Is that why you're hemorrhaging from the stomach?"

Leroi tries to rise, his body trembling with fatigue and pain. He reaches out for his little girlfriend, but Roman pushes him down.

The doctor attaches restraints. If I had to guess, it looks like the wound Leroi sustained earlier has made him disorientated and delirious. He's losing blood at an alarming rate and is too far gone to realize he needs urgent help.

"Fuck," Leroi roars and tries to break free.

"Stay still and let the doctor do his job," my brother says, his stern voice hiding his unease. He holds Leroi in place until the last of the straps are secured around his body.

"Thanks, Roman." Dr. Brunelli glances at the girl, then at me. "Leave the operating room, please, and check the young lady for injuries."

When the girl remains rooted in place, I move behind her and reach for her shoulder to guide her out. She spins, brandishing a scalpel.

Before it reaches my throat, I snatch her wrist and hold her in an arm lock. Nice try, but after getting blindsided by Rosalind, it's best to assume that any woman involved with Leroi is going to be a handful.

Leroi continues to struggle against his restraints, grunting and cursing until his words become an incoherent blur.

"Easy, love," I say, my voice soothing. "Leroi is safe with Dr. Brunelli. He's been with the family since before we were even born."

She stares up at me, her eyes wide with terror.

Earlier, Roman interrupted my time with Rosalind to explain that Samson Capello had taken Leroi's girl hostage at a mansion lower down on Alderney Hill. It looks like spending time with that sick bastard has left her traumatized and stab happy.

"I'm Cesare." I flick my head behind us toward the three struggling men. "Roman's youngest brother."

She stiffens, her face paling.

I'm an ally. Why is she scared of me?

"What's your name?" I ask.

"None of your business," she snaps, her voice trembling.

"Fucking sedate him," Roman growls in the background, holding down Leroi's head as it thrashes.

"Already one step ahead of you," the doctor replies.

"Alright, Miss None-of-your-business, it's time to go." Still gripping her by the wrist, I usher the girl out of the chaotic operating room, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Her scalpel drops to the floor with a satisfying clink, and I guide her to the fold-up seat.

While I appreciate a pretty woman with a blade, the one she holds is already stained with blood. Besides, if anyone's going to slash me across the face, I want it to be Rosalind.

I pick up the dirty scalpel and toss it in the sharps' disposal bin, just as Leroi's girl reaches into the sterile tray to steal a fresh blade.

She has the same delicate stature as Miranda. At first glance, they could easily be the same age. This one is older, despite looking so innocent. The difference is in their eyes. Miranda is all brightness and sweetness and light. Leroi's girl has a darkness that might exceed even mine.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

She shakes her head.

My gaze wanders to a nick on the side of her neck. I gesture in its direction and ask, "What's that all about?"

She covers the wound.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shakes her head, her fingers tightening around the scalpel.

"Alright, then." I raise my palms, letting her know I don't mean any harm.

The girl is skittish, wearing men's clothes that are at least twelve sizes too big. Something really fucked up must have gone down at Capello's hideout, which is why she's refusing medical attention. Every man in that family was the worst kind of sexual deviant.

I swallow hard, my mind scrambling for the best choice of words. "If what happened up there went deeper than the cut to your neck, I know a female doctor who can prescribe Plan B and test for infections."

"No," she says, her voice soft. "No, thank you. But Samson's still alive and he needs medical attention."

My nostrils flare. "What?"

"Leroi shot him in the stomach. He's bleeding out."

"And?"

"You need to save his life."

"The fuck I do." I turn to the door. "Where is he? If Leroi can't kill that bastard, then I'll finish him off."

The girl appears in front of me in an instant and holds her scalpel to my throat. I glare down into her ferocious little scowl.

In the blink of an eye, I could overpower this little waif, disarm her, and make her howl loudly enough to rouse Leroi from his sedation. But she belongs to my cousin, the hero who murdered the entire Capello family and found vital evidence to get Roman released from death row.

I can't repay Leroi by hurting his woman, even if she's starting the fight.

"Are you really trying to make me heal Samson Capello at knifepoint?" I ask.

She nods.

A laugh escapes my lips. It's bitter, brittle, and brimming with bile. "When I was young, that cold-hearted bastard and his psycho twin killed my pets and presented me with their dead bodies. They made it look like I was the psychopath."

"Then why do you want him to die so quickly?" she asks, her words flat.

My eyes narrow. Is this sweet-looking girl a kindred spirit? Based on the scalpel pointed to my throat, I'd say she isn't trying to protect Samson.

"Wait," I say, keeping my voice steady. "You want Sam to be healed so you can torture him slowly?"

She nods again.

My shoulders sag with relief. "Why didn't you tell me that before, love?"

"I thought that was obvious," she says.

"How about we make a deal? You put down the scalpel and let me operate on Samson. You can even watch and I'll teach you a few things about human anatomy. In exchange, I swear to help him survive long enough for you to get your revenge."

"How do I know you won't double-cross me and kill Samson?" she asks.

"Because his family was responsible for the downfall of mine," I say. "Because Samson and his brother murdered my pet. Because Samson stole my brother's fiancée and left him with a stick up his ass. Because Samson ordered a hit on a woman staying under our roof. Because after everything we all suffered, keeping Samson alive so he can endure more torture is my chance to get a measure of revenge."

She studies me for several moments before withdrawing the scalpel. "Alright then, but if you try to kill Samson?—"

"Then you have my permission to stab me wherever the fuck you want. I won't even fight back."

The corners of her lips twitch. "Seraphine."

"What's that, love?"

"My name. It's Seraphine."

I offer her my widest smile. Not the polite one I show the outside world, but the true one reserved for those who share my darkest desires. "Seraphine, my girl, that's a fitting name for a dark angel."

She grins, revealing pearly white teeth, the expression sunny and sweet and savage. I can't help but wonder if cousin Leroi knows he's attracted a woman even more sinister than an assassin. But then again, he's a hitman.

Maybe his preferences veer toward femme fatales and lethal little ladies.