Chapter 68

CESARE

I lie on top of Rosalind and loosen my grip around her throat to gaze into her eyes, heavy-lidded and sensual after her orgasm. They hold a rawness, a beauty I have never fully appreciated until this moment. She's never looked so mesmerizing.

She's glowing from her climax with her cheeks flushed pink, and her lips parted and red. I commit her beauty to memory because this rare vulnerability from her is fleeting. Soon enough, she'll close herself off and retreat behind her usual mask of control.

I can't blame her.

The way I treated her is unforgivable, even if she entered my life as an assassin. I release her throat, caressing her reddened skin, and let my fingers glide down to stroke her collarbones.

When she closes her eyes and turns her head to the side, I get the hint and move out from between her parted legs. I lie beside her, propping myself up on one elbow to study her in the firelight.

Her cold body language speaks volumes. I might have trained her to crave my touch, but she wants nothing to do with me. She remains quiet, her chest rising and falling with each breath. A thin layer of sweat covers her skin, making it glimmer.

I can't tell if she feels hatred or shame, but I've seen how she is Miranda. I want to make space in her heart for me.

"Rosalind," I murmur, my voice rough. "What I did to you wasn't right. I should never have taken it so far?—"

"What part?" she interjects bitterly, her fingers closing around the sheets. "When you shoved a loaded gun up my vagina or when you continually used Miranda as bait?"

I grimace at the thought of Miranda losing the last remaining member of her family just because I wanted to enact a sick fantasy. Back then, I was furious after being outsmarted by a woman I'd dismissed as Leroi's cast off. She was an enemy I wanted to have fun with and before gathering information and killing.

Now, I see her as so much more. I see her strength, her determination, her passion, her love. Rosalind is the woman I want by my side, not against me.

"I regret all of it," I finally answer and brush a strand of hair off her face. "I should have made a deal the moment I had you restrained."

"Instead, you made me a plaything." Her jaw clenches and the muscles around her neck tense as though she's reliving days of being restrained.

"You don't understand."

I reach out to touch her hand, to offer her a little comfort, but she whirls around to meet my gaze, her hazel eyes flashing.

"What makes a man decide to take women as property?"

My lips flatten against my clenched teeth. "You make it sound like I do this every day."

"How do I know you don't? You have an entire basement full of cells and you're holding at least two other women against their will—that I know of."

"If you think I touched them, I didn't. Our family doctor is keeping them under sedation. The only hostage I ever got close to was you."

Her lips purse as though she's insulted that I might think she's jealous. "Answer my question."

"You're the only woman I've ever wanted to keep." I stroke her hair, trying to emphasize the point. "The only one who's ever held my interest for longer than a few nights."

"Why?"

"Because you're challenging," I say.

"That's why you were going to drive me to the gates after we fucked?"

Hope warms my chest, and I hold back a smile. If she's offended that I tried to kick her out on our first night, that's promising. It means she wants my attention.

"You want the truth?" I ask.

She nods.

"You were an amazing fuck, but you kept getting under my skin with all those insults." I trace my fingers along her jawline.

Her lips twitch, and she tilts her head, giving me better access to her neck.

"Think that's funny?" I ask.

"I can't believe you were so easy to rile up back then," she says. "It's like you've evolved."

"You keep me on my toes," I mutter, wanting to kiss her soft lips.

She closes her eyes again and turns, giving me a delectable view of her back. I scoot behind her and spoon her body. To my surprise, she doesn't flinch. My palm slides over her belly and I rub slow circles over her supple flesh, wondering how it would feel if she ever got pregnant with my child.

I smile at the thought of having a smaller version of Rosalind. A dark-haired little girl with bright hazel eyes who would look to me for protection and guidance. With Rosalind as her mother and me as her doting father, she would never feel abandoned and isolated.

My cock swells at the thought of filling her with so much cum that she bears my child, and I tighten my arm around her waist. My lips find her neck and I gently nuzzle her skin, lost in the thought of owning Rosalind so completely.

She shivers under my touch, but doesn't pull away. "Go the fuck to sleep."

"Promise you'll stay."

"What are you talking about?" She turns her head but doesn't make eye contact.

"You're planning to kill me after I've transferred the funds to the academy."

"No," she says with a bite.

I close my teeth around her earlobe. "Don't lie to me."

She pauses for several moments before exhaling a long sigh. "I was thinking about doing it after we dealt with the Moirai."

"Was?" I ask, my chest lifting with hope.

"You're not worth the effort." She closes her fingers around my arm and shoves it off her waist.

"Because you're warming to me," I say with a smirk.

She huffs. "You wish."

"I really am sorry, Rosalind," I say, meaning every word.

She rolls onto her back and turns to meet my gaze with eyes so pained I draw back to suck in a breath. What I did to her cut deeper than anything she had to endure as part of being an assassin. I think of how she was impregnated by her father and stiffen.

Could I be as bad as that incestuous rapist?

"You can't erase days of torture with money and an apology," she says.

"What can I do?"

She closes her eyes and shakes her head as though the question is far too complex for a simple answer. I study the contours of her face in the flickering light of the fire, marveling at the way her long lashes rest perfectly against her high cheekbones.

I wanted to see what was beneath her beautiful, strong exterior and I found someone I can't let go.

My gut twists with regret. I should have treated her better, given her more respect. Even if she was part of a plot to destroy the family, I should have recognized she was a pawn in a much larger game.

"Give us our freedom," she murmurs.

My heart lurches at the thought of releasing Rosalind and losing her forever. "That's the one thing I can't do, pet. Once I set you free from your employer, you will belong to me."

"Then your apology means nothing." She turns her back to me and faces the fire.

The chill in her voice makes me pull her against my chest.

"One day, you'll come to realize that belonging to me isn't a sentence. You'll be free to do whatever you want. If you don't want to live in the mansion with the family, I'll buy you any kind of home you desire. We can have our own space. Be a family. It's all yours."

"As long as I spend the rest of my life with you?" she grinds out.

"Would that be so bad?"

She shoves me off her and scoots away from me on the mattress. "Go to sleep."

Frustration pounds through my skull, and I release an angry sigh. "Someday, you'll understand that you're not a caged bird, but a phoenix waiting to rise from the ashes, and I'm the man who will set you free."

"Freedom in captivity. Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"You've lived your entire lifeunder someone else's control," I say. "If it wasn't the bastard who got you pregnant, then it was the Moirai."

"What makes you different?"

"Because I won't use and discard you. I want to make you happy. I want to protect you. I want to give you the world."

Turning back, she looks at me. I see a flicker of something beyond the reflection of the flames. Curiosity, perhaps, with the faintest hint of hope.

Silence stretches between us for what feels like an eternity, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Her shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath, but she doesn't respond. She also doesn't turn away.

This is not a rejection.

Maybe, I'm finally getting through.