Chapter 3

ROSALIND

This is turning out to be my worst mission. Gunther has never once mentioned Miranda, but then, I've always exceeded his expectations. Until now. The look in his eyes yesterday put me on red alert. I'm already researching affordable ways to send her to school out of state.

All I want is to keep my daughter safe and have a real relationship with her instead of the sporadic visits I barely manage because of my job. She's fourteen already, and I have four years before she goes to college. All my plans are turning to shit because I can't gather the information Gunther needs to execute a hit on the brothers.

This mess is all because of Leroi Montesano. Unlike most targets, who are easy to manipulate, his heart is encased in an armored tank. I doubt he even loves himself.

I stride past the club's coat check and through the double doors that lead to the dance floor. Bass music pounds through my bones, reminding me to at least act like I'm here to have fun.

Plastering on a smile, I walk through the club in time with the beat and roll my shoulders to the melody. The attention I attract is immediate, because in this black body con dress and red stilettos, I look down to fuck.

If Leroi is here tonight, he'll be sitting in the VIP section, exchanging words with the middle Montesano brother, Benito. I wasn't lying to Gunther when I told him this was how they communicate. It's almost impossible to eavesdrop on someone within a cacophony of conversations and loud music.

As I pass the dance floor, I catch my first glimpse of the oldest brother, and my steps falter. The alert I set up on the Montesano family informed me that Roman had been released from prison, but I didn't expect him to be at the club so soon.

Roman stands at the edge of the VIP section, dressed in a black suit, looking like he spent his entire time behind bars lifting weights. He's talking to Benito, and they're staring at a group of women making synchronized movements like they're in an aerobics class.

I reach the cordoned-off area, and Benito's features flicker with recognition. He's seen me here dozens of times with Leroi, so he steps aside to let me in. My heart skips a beat the way it always does when I'm close to a target.

Attacking the Montesano brothers in their own club without backup or bulletproof armor would be suicide. Most of the people inside are connected to the family and would strike back with lethal force.

I find Leroi sitting in a leather armchair, nursing a tumbler of liquor. As soon as our gazes meet, his eyes narrow. I pull back my shoulders, stick out my chest, and force myself not to cringe.

He rises out of his seat and towers over me, even though I stand five-eleven in my heels. The hatred in his eyes burns through what's left of my self-respect, but I power through.

"Hey," I say with a broad smile and attempt to spew an apology.

Before I can even finish speaking, Leroi cuts me off with an insult. Powered by the threat hanging over Miranda, I let his harsh words slide over my head and raise a hand to cup his cheek.

Leroi snatches my wrist, spins me around and holds me in a painful arm lock. I grind my ass into his crotch and moan, trying to get him aroused. His deep snarl sends a shiver down my spine that settles in my pussy.

"How many times do I need to tell you to fuck off?" he growls, his hot breath fanning my ear. "It's almost like you're begging for death."

My heart races, and adrenaline surges through my veins. The muscles of my core constrict, and all sensation travels to my clit.

Torture training has fucked up my fight-or-flight responses. Whenever I'm in the presence of a dominant man who doesn't want me dead, my body automatically prepares me to fuck.

"Please, Leroi," I beg with a groan. "You're the only man who can make me come."

This always worked on him before. Or it did until he moved in that little blonde. Now, he's fixated on her. Tossing me aside, he strides out of the VIP section toward the group of women his cousins were watching on the dance floor. My heart plummets to my stomach, which churns with mounting dread.

I can't lose Leroi. Especially not after Gunther's threat to recruit Miranda. I need to say something—anything to get back his attention.

As I teeter after him on my heels, a set of strong arms encircle my waist. That's when I inhale the mingled scents of earth and smoke. Annoyance prickles my skin and I ready myself to break this guy's ribs.

"Fuck off," I snap, my head whipping aside. "Let go?—"

I lock gazes with Cesare, the youngest Montesano brother, and my breath catches. The shock must register on my face because he smirks.

He's even more handsome up close, with a golden complexion, sanpaku eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw. His facial piercings are gone, so there's nothing impairing the sharp angles of his face or his raw sex appeal.

What should be intimidating is softened by messy strands of raven-black hair that beg to be tamed. The playful glimmer in his pale irises scream mischief.

"Why would a beautiful woman like you harass a man who's moved onto someone else?" he growls in my ear.

My pulse quickens. I have one of my targets within my grasp. Why the fuck am I bothering with Leroi? If I can get Cesare to take me home, I could gather intel on the Montesano estate and get Gunther off my back.

I run through everything I know about Cesare. He's the baby of the family. Always at his mother's side until she left. Since he dropped out of medical school, he's been surrounded by bodyguards, which is why he only ever fucks his employees. I wonder if that will ease off, now that the oldest brother is out of prison.

My mind runs through tactics. Which persona would work best on Leroi's cousin? Simpering only works until the cum has cooled. Bitter experience has taught me that these types of men love the chase. They're just like cats. Making things too easy for them will get you dropped like a broken toy.

If I'm going to get Cesare to fuck me, then I'll have to make him sweat.

"Hey." He squeezes me around the middle. "I'm talking to you."

"Men who know how to please a woman are hard to find," I say over the sound of the music. "Let go of me. I want a screaming orgasm, not a few lackluster pumps."

Cesare flashes his teeth. "I could make you scream."

"You wish," I say with a grin. "My pussy aches for a man who knows what he's doing. Not some kid."

His smile falters, and I know I've struck a chord. There's almost a decade's age difference between Roman and Cesare. As the youngest brother, he's probably had enough of being treated like a child.

"Younger men have shorter refractory periods," he says.

"What does that even mean?" I reply with what I hope is a ditsy smile.

His chest inflates. It's a sign that he enjoys my attention or loves being the source of information. Either way, he's giving me plenty to manipulate. "A short refractory period means I can fuck you all night before I'm spent."

My gaze drops to his full lips. "Promises, promises."

His eyes darken. "Think I'm lying?"

"Men will say anything to get their dick wet."

All traces of amusement vanish. "If it's a screaming orgasm you want, I'm your man."

"Prove it." I lick my lips.

He frowns. "Prove what?"

"Let's see what you're working with." I run my hands down his chest.

His pectoral muscles tighten beneath my touch, telling me he's eager to impress. I trail my fingers down his tight abs and stop at his waistband.

"Why did you stop?" He wraps his hand around my wrist.

"I'm looking for something more filling." My gaze wanders to the dance floor, where there's no sign of Leroi.

Cesare leans in close and brushes his lips against my earlobe. "Come with me."

My heart soars. "Where to?"

His grip around my wrist tightens, and he marches me through the VIP section toward an exit secured by a hulking guard. When he opens the door for Cesare and steps aside, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my triumph.

I saunter alongside Cesare in my stilettos, making sure to stumble. Magazines say that men love women in heels because they make a woman arch her spine and give the illusion of longer legs.

Experience says otherwise.

Fourteen years of working as an assassin has taught me that men love heels because they make a woman vulnerable. Hell, any sign of weakness works on carnivorous men like catnip. The quickest way to catch a predator at night is to walk in a zigzag and stumble. They'll crawl out of the shadows like hungry hyenas.

Cesare holds me steady with an arm around my waist. "Careful sweetheart."

He's no different from all the others. Instead of exploiting a physical weakness, he's taking advantage of a mental vulnerability. Cesare acts like he's saving his cousin from a deranged sex addict, when, in reality, he wants that lustful attention turned to himself.

My lips curl into a smile.

This predator is about to become my prey.