Chapter 33

CESARE

I had to walk away, and not just because I needed to report back to my brothers with Rosalind's intel.

My pet has a way of taking control of a situation. She wants to call the shots, even though it's her who's naked, horny, strapped to a torture device, and aching for release.

It's what I admire and despise about her most—that inner kernel of strength I can't penetrate. Nothing I do, say, or make her endure can break through that shell, but that won't stop me from trying.

I limp through the basement's darkened corridors, my cock so hard it hurts. Arousal courses through my veins, hot and thick and furious, powered by the challenge of breaking Rosalind.

Where does she find the determination to endure? I shoved a gun up her cunt and pulled the trigger, yet she fought with every shred of strength to escape, only to return without hesitation the moment I took her sister.

Rosalind is unlike any woman I've ever met, and I'm eager to explore her limits. What will I find when she's broken? A sniveling little creature, begging for mercy or a raging warrior?

Women don't have balls of steel. They cry and simper and flee at the first moment of trouble.

Just like Mom.

Mom didn't even wait for Dad's body to cool before she married Tommy Galliano. She jumped from one powerful man to another without a backward glance and left Roman to rot on death row to enjoy a life of luxury and power in New Jersey.

By the time I exit into the wine cellar, my erection has vanished, leaving me tasting the bile of Mom's betrayal. I ascend the stairs and walk down the bright marble hallways, passing staff members who acknowledge my presence with nods.

I reach the door of Roman's study, where he and Benito are already deep in conversation. Pausing, I strain my ears, trying to catch any hint of my name, but all I hear are muffled voices. Benito's tone carries a hint of concern, while Roman sounds frustrated.

My lips tighten. With so much going on in the business, why would I think they're badmouthing me? Probably my guilty conscience.

Opening the door, I step inside to find them both sitting on the sofas at the far end of the room. They each cast me glances before turning back to a laptop.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Tell you later," Roman rumbles. "Now that you're here, tell us what you got from the assassin."

Benito navigates to an app on the laptop and calls a contact. Moments later, Leroi appears on the screen. He's shirtless and sitting up in bed with his abs wrapped in bandages.

"How's the wound?" Roman asks.

Leroi grins. "Healing."

Benito shifts in his seat. "Cesare is here." He turns to me. "What did you find out from the assassin?"

"Hi Cesare," says a soft voice.

Seraphine sits on the bed beside Leroi, wearing a blood-stained robe. Her hair is now a mid-brown compared to the rich espresso from the night before.

I flash her a grin. "You taking care of my cousin?"

She leans on Leroi's arm and nods.

"What did Rosalind say?" Benito asks.

Standing between the two sofas, I deliver a full report, starting with how she arrived in the alley with an accomplice who escaped with her sister.

"Her accomplice crushed Rizzo and Barzelli's squad car," Roman mutters.

I raise a shoulder. "My plan worked, and I've made sure Rosalind won't ever escape. She says the only way to cancel the hit Samson placed on us is if he calls it off himself or the firm gets evidence of his death."

"Oh." Seraphine places a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes widening.

"What?" I ask.

"Samson's dead. I just electrocuted him in the bath."

Leroi gazes down at her as though she's said something cute.

"Shit," Benito mutters.

"What does the firm want?" Roman asks. "A death certificate?"

"Seraphine severed his head," Leroi says. "Would that work?"

Roman leans forward in his seat, rests his forearms on his thighs, and frowns. "I need to send that head to the Di Marco Law Group."

Leroi raises a brow. "So they know he's no longer in line for the inheritance?"

"Yeah." Roman turns to me. "Take a leakproof container down to the cottage beneath the sycamore tree and deliver the head to Joseph Di Marco."

"I killed him," Leroi says.

"Then Cesare will send it to whoever's in charge," Roman growls.

I scowl. "Why not Gil?"

My big brother raises his brows. I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. He's only been out of prison for just over a week. That doesn't give him the right to act like he's Dad.

"Cesare," he says, his voice low. "Benito just led a series of raids to gain back control of the meth lab, the warehouse by the dock, and the crew of the Bella Lucia."

I flinch at the mention of Mom's name. One quick glance at my other brother tells me he's no longer affected by her absence. Benito has a way of dismissing anything he deems as irrelevant.

"You forgot about my arrangement with the Salentino sisters at the Newtown Crematorium," Benito adds.

Without missing a beat, Roman adds, "And he's also liaising with insiders at the casino for when we get it back."

My back stiffens, and I cast another glance at Benito, whose gaze is glacial. He doesn't need to say the words because I hear them loud and clear. Benito takes on so much work because he thinks I'm weak and can't handle the weight of being a Montesano.

"You could have asked me for help," I mutter.

"Possibly, but there was no margin for error," Benito drawls.

Resentment burns across my chest and surges through my temples. My nostrils flare, and I clench my jaw. He's doing it again. Telling me I'm a screwup. A man makes one mistake when he's younger and everyone thinks he can't handle responsibility.

"Enough," Roman says before I can muster up a reply. His gaze hardens, making him look exactly like Dad. "That head is the only thing standing between us taking back control of the family business and being taken down by assassins. You are the only person I can rely on to make sure it arrives at the Di Marco Law group."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding at the gravity of his trust.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll pick it up."

"Bring it here first, so we can tell the Moirai to end the contract."

"Sure thing, Roman." I turn to Benito. "And I'm going to need to use the jet this evening."

"No," Benito says.

"Why not?"

"Someone from Tommy Galliano's side called, asking for a meeting."

Terror punches me in the heart. Alarm spikes, and my pulse ratchets up to eleven. This is a message from the Galliano brothers. If I don't comply with their demands, they'll expose my secret and force my hand. I force my face into a mask of composure, trying to hold back the rising panic.

My chest tightens, each breath coming harder and harder with the crushing weight of dread. Benito already thinks I'm a waste of space, and it won't take him long to infect Roman. They'll both stop tolerating me the moment they discover the truth.

I grit my teeth and ask, "What does Galliano want?"

"It's probably about the meth lab," Roman mutters. "Capello didn't abduct our scientists. It was that scaly bastard."

All the breath leaves my lungs in a desperate exhale, but it's too early to feel relief. The business discussion could just be a ruse to deliver a blow to my already crumbling reputation.

"I want you in the club tonight, watching the monitors for suspicious activity." Roman raises a finger. "Before you complain, Benito will be at the door, making sure Galliano doesn't storm the entrance with his men."

My gaze flicks to the laptop screen, where Leroi has already fallen asleep. His girlfriend sits beside him, her attention riveted to her phone.

"Hey, Seraphine," I say, making her glance into the camera. "Be with you in twenty minutes."

I walk out, my stomach roiling with trepidation. Miranda will need to wait another day for me to rescue her from captivity. But if tonight goes badly, I may not even have a future.