Chapter 36

ROSALIND

I stare up at the flickering lightbulb, my eyes streaming with tears.

The chastity belt strapped to my hips has a device that vibrates just enough to stimulate my clit, but not enough so I can climax. No matter how much I try to grind against it, every time I reach a certain level of arousal, it's programmed to shut off and leave me frustrated.

I can't sleep. I can't think. I can't even breathe. This relentless cycle of pleasure and denial is breaking me faster than any conventional form of torture.

Sweat coats my skin and soaks the table's leather surface. My tongue is swollen and dry. My throat is raw from gasping for air, and the worst part of this predicament is that my captor has left me alone.

Wires stretch from the monitors to the toy. Every time my blood pressure reaches a certain threshold, and it finally feels like I'm close to release, the toy deactivates. When my BP drops, the vibrations restart, increasing their intensity, until I'm back to the edge.

Cesare Montesano is a menace. This bullshit should be banned by the Geneva convention or Mafia code of conduct.

The door swings open, and the man himself enters, clad in a black silk shirt that skims his muscular chest and hugs his broad shoulders. It's unbuttoned to the sternum, revealing tantalizing glimpses of his tattooed olive skin.

My teeth grind. This torture has me so desperate and horny that I'm starting to find him attractive.

He stops at the doorway without his usual smirk. The dim, flickering light makes his features more angular and accentuates the sharpness of his cheekbones and the cruel curves of his mouth. If I gave a damn, I'd say he looked bothered.

His gaze sweeps over my trembling body as though he's taking inventory of a possession. I force my muscles to still as he traces every counter, every inch of my exposed flesh.

It's been over a decade since I last felt so vulnerable. I swore to myself this would never happen again, yet here I am under another man's control. Angry heat rushes to the surface of my skin, making my nipples tingle. I clench my teeth, not wanting to show him any weakness.

Cesare's features harden. "You pissed on my floor."

"I'll shit on it if you don't set me free," I snap.

He storms to the corner of the room and picks up the mop, bucket, and a huge plastic bottle. I break out in a fresh sweat, wondering if this is the start of a new sadistic game.

Without another word, he opens the bottle and pours its contents on the floor, filling the air with the citrus scent of cleaning fluid. After returning the container to the sink, he mops the floor clean.

"You would save so much time if you acted like a normal psychopath and gave me a bucket," I rasp

"Tell me about Leroi," he says, his tone flat.

"I thought you weren't interested in me sexually," I reply. "Something about not wanting to stick your cock in me if it was on fire?"

He finally meets my gaze. "Do you want to get untied or not?"

My heart skips a beat. "Turn off the fucking vibrator," I say through clenched teeth. "Please."

He walks around the table and unplugs the toy. At the sudden absence of vibrations, my muscles relax, and I can finally exhale.

"Talk," he says, the word soft.

Cesare really is in a strange mood. Maybe he and his brothers negotiated with the firm and they've demanded my release? My mind is so scrambled that it's giving way to false hope.

I swallow, my tongue darting out to lick my dry lips. "Leroi was my target. Based on our surveillance, he was the most probable way to access the Montesano estate."

He stares down at me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. It's like he's searching my features for any signs of deception. I hold his gaze, refusing to break under the weight of his scrutiny.

"We knew he went to the Phoenix to speak to either Benito or you, so that's where I was assigned," I add.

He nods. "You were wearing a white, strapless dress."

My breath catches. How on earth does he even remember? "I don't remember seeing you that night."

"I was watching the monitors," he replies. "What did you say when you sat beside him in the VIP section?"

The corners of my mouth pinch into a grimace. "I asked if he fucked as hard as he looked."

"What did he reply?" Cesare asks.

"Leroi told me to get lost," I mutter. "It looked like he was waiting for someone. I told him I'd look elsewhere else for a dom who had what it took to tame a bratty sub and then ground against some other guy on the dance floor.

"What happened after Leroi spoke to Benito?"

I pause, unsure if he really recalls that evening or if he searched for it in the club's surveillance footage. "He grabbed my wrist, took me into the alley, fucked me against the wall, and walked away without a word."

Cesare's eyes narrow, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. "He didn't even bother to ask for your name?" he snarls through clenched teeth. "Was it so good that you went back for seconds?"

I huff a laugh.

"What?" he snaps.

"It was my job. I had to get close to Leroi to gather information about you and your brothers."

Silence hangs in the air like a guillotine as Cesare glares down at me like I'm a piece of shit. I force my breath to even, not wanting him to see the stress in my vital signs.

Cesare doesn't strike me as a man who would judge a woman for having a one-night stand, but he might be envious of his older, more experienced cousin.

As an only child who spent the first eleven years of my life in a boarding school, my knowledge of family dynamics is only theoretical, but I think Cesare might have some sibling rivalry. Our intel stated Leroi lived in Enzo Montesano's estate until he was ten.

The door swings open, making my head snap toward the exit. Roman Montesano steps in, wearing a burgundy robe and a face like a thunderstorm.

His gaze locks with mine for the brief moment it takes for Cesare to rush forward and usher his older brother out into the hallway.

When the door slams shut, I close my eyes, strain my ears, and try to eavesdrop.

"What happened last night?" Even though Roman's voice is muffled, I can still sense his tone is urgent.

Cesare hesitates for a beat before whispering, "What are you talking about?"

"Tania was found dead in the dumpster."

For a moment, I think they've walked away, until Roman adds, "The staff say you were last seen rushing out to the exit that leads out to the alley."

My breath shallows as I lean as far toward the door as my bindings will allow. If I remember the intel correctly, Tania was a university student who worked at the Phoenix as a bartender.

Roman's voice drifts back into my consciousness. "You turned off the security camera and erased five minutes of footage."

"One of Galliano's men was out in the alley," Cesare says. "I deleted the footage so I could kill him without witnesses."

"Is that why you went without backup?"

Cesare doesn't reply.

"This looks suspicious," Roman says, his voice heavy with accusation.

"I didn't kill her," Cesare snarls.

"Gil says last time he saw Tania, you were choking her against the bathroom wall because she saw you waterboarding Ricky Ferraro."

"But I let her go," he says.

"Then four other employees said you came in days later and fired Tania while you were drinking with an underaged girl in an academy uniform."

My jaw drops.

Are they talking about Miranda?