Chapter 61

CESARE

Miranda's excited squeal warms my heart, and the tears of joy gathering in her eyes are worth the pain of Rosalind's sharp nails. Her talons dig into my hand hard enough to draw blood, but it's already too late.

"Cesare!" Miranda launches at me and wraps her arms around my neck. "Of course, you have my blessing."

Chuckling, I pat her on the back, my chest filling with warmth. Taking advantage of Rosalind's desperation to protect Miranda is a dick move, but I never claimed to be a saint. Hell, I intend to use every tool at my disposal to keep Rosalind from ever leaving, and that includes her daughter.

Rosalind peels Miranda off my chest, settles her into her seat, and buckles her seat belt. Miranda is too ecstatic at hearing my intention or she's used to Rosalind's overprotectiveness to protest.

"Are you going to propose now?" Miranda asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

"No," Rosalind says, her voice tight.

Miranda clasps her hands. "Say, yes, Rosa. I want Cesare to be my older brother."

I turn back to Rosalind, my lips lifting into a smirk. "Do you want me to propose in the hotel or at a candlelit dinner?"

Rosalind's features harden into the tight mask I've come to loathe. It's the one that hides her emotions. "We've barely been acquainted for a week."

"It's been two, pet," I say with a wink, "And we're more than acquaintances."

"Besides, Cesare has loved you from afar since you started dating Leroi," Miranda adds with a nod. "That counts for something."

"It doesn't," Rosalind says from between clenched teeth. "Let's discuss this after eighteen months."

I turn to Miranda with my most crestfallen face and shrug. "Well, the lady has spoken. Looks like you'll have to wait a little longer before you can call me big brother."

Miranda's features tighten. "Why are you refusing Cesare? Is it because he's in the mafia?"

Rosalind's head snaps to the side, her eyes sharpening with accusation. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing," I say.

"I looked up the Phoenix online. It wasn't too difficult to work out that you were dating someone in the mafia." Miranda curls her hands into fists, her pretty features hardening with determination.

Rosalind gulps at her daughter's outburst, and her facade falters enough for me to catch a flicker of fear. The nails digging into my skin pierce deeper, sending a clear warning to back off. As I lift our joined hands, Rosalind releases her grip.

"I don't care what he does, Rosa. Cesare saved me from getting assaulted, and he doesn't deserve your coldness."

Rosalind's face drops. "What happened? Who assaulted you?"

"I chased off the little bastard," I reply.

"You scared the shit out of him," Miranda says with a broad smile, her eyes shining with admiration. "When I got back to the academy, he left a letter under my door, begging for my forgiveness."

Rosalind turns to look at me, her features pained. I know what she's thinking. One good deed doesn't erase days of torture, but she started it by seducing me under false pretenses, not to mention the attempted murder.

"Can't you see that Cesare is your perfect match?" Miranda asks, her voice straining.

"There are things you don't understand," Rosalind replies through clenched teeth.

"Like what?" Miranda snaps. "Don't act like you're too good for Cesare when you're a killer."

Rosalind stiffens.

Even I flinch at the harshness of her delivery.

"Miranda," I say, but the little girl continues.

"You killed Mom and Dad, took me away from the only home I'd ever known, and then locked me away at a crappy boarding school. Sometimes, you go weeks and months without visiting and the moment you get a boyfriend who could make us a happy family, you push him away."

Rosalind closes her eyes, her head bowing. "I'm sorry you saw that."

"But not sorry you killed our parents?" Miranda screams. "Not sorry for giving me nightmares for watching them die?"

My brows pull together. I nudge Rosalind, urging her to explain why she murdered her family, but she doesn't speak. I would have shut the fuck up if I'd predicted this marriage proposal would open Miranda's wounds.

"Don't be too hard on Rosalind," I say, "There's more to her story?—"

"Drop it," Rosalind snaps.

"Drop what?" Miranda gazes at me from the other seat, her eyes glistening with tears. "Do you know why she did it?"

I grimace, wishing I'd keep my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted was to traumatize Miranda. "It's not my story to tell."

"Why do you get to know, and I don't?" Her voice breaks.

"Miri, it's complicated," Rosalind says.

As my gaze bounces from mother to daughter, I can't help thinking about how I discovered the truth about my own parentage.

It was the week Dad had died in the Phoenix of that mysterious heart attack, and I left medical school to be with the family. Mom's reaction to his death had been subdued, even for her. When Gil told Roman that Dad had been with some blonde at the time of his death, she didn't even flinch.

She was withdrawn and absorbed in her phone, the same way Benito gets when he's fixated on his device. At the time, I thought this was a strange reaction to grief until Roman got arrested outside the funeral house.

That night, she drove out of the gates, leaving only a note. It said her marriage to Dad had been a mistake she'd regretted, and she was going to correct that by joining Tommy Galliano.

I found a second letter beneath my pillow, explaining that she had gone to join my biological father. She wanted to warn me in case someone spilled my secret, but added I should join her in New Jersey.

That was it. No further explanation, just a sentence telling me I wasn't Enzo Montesano's son. I called Mom, but her phone had been disconnected. I wanted to leave for New Jersey, but the cops had just charged Roman for murder.

When we got the news of her wedding to Tommy Galliano, I thought he was my father. Mom didn't respond to any of my emails or to the letters I sent to Galliano's mansion. I saw her on that bastard's arm in the society pages, looking happier than she'd ever been with Dad.

She took her reasons for cheating on Dad to the grave, and I was determined to forget about the contents of her note until Matty Galliano sent me a letter, explaining that he was my biological father. Now, that twisted bastard is trying to turn my brothers against me by making me look like a liability and a mad dog.

"I can't believe you," Miranda's sharp voice slices through my thoughts. "I already saw the worst of what you did. Why can't you just tell me why you killed them in cold blood?"

Leaning into Rosalind's side, I murmur, "Tell her."

Rosalind shakes her head.

A lump forms in my throat. It's not my place to tell Miranda, especially when I only have a fraction of the story. I know the pain of having only slivers of the truth and to be haunted by unanswered questions.

Miranda rises off her seat to sit at my other side. "Can't you share what she told you?"

I wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders. "The last couple of weeks have been rough. Just give her time."

While the little girl cries into my chest, I stare at Rosalind's profile. She's so lost in her thoughts that she hasn't noticed Miranda is taking comfort from her captor.

Sighing, I make a solemn vow to protect them both from the machinations of Matty Galliano… and from myself.