Chapter 79

CESARE

Is this a trick? Is this the moment she rips out my jugular in revenge for keeping her captive?

My gaze drops to Rosalind's deceptively delicate fingers. Every fiber of my being wants to get close to her, but I would be insane to get in bed with a woman capable of killing a man with her bare hands. Especially so soon after she suffered a violent encounter.

I gaze into her face, noticing the subtle flecks of green and gold in her hazel eyes that give them such a mesmerizing depth. They're raw, sad, and shimmer with unshed tears, making every fiber of my being burn with the need to soothe her pain.

My heart doesn't just ache for Rosalind and everything she's suffered. It bleeds.

"Cesare," she says, her voice coaxing. "I won't bite.

"It's not your teeth that's got me worried."

"You think I'm going to lash out?"

"How else will you handle all that pent-up rage?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Her hand drops to the mattress. "You can't train me to crave your touch and then not give it when I'm feeling vulnerable. Take off that shirt and get into this bed."

Guilt twists my gut and gnaws at my insides at the reminder. It's worse because there's also a part of me that surges with pride in having her need my touch.

Before I know it, I'm toeing off my shoes and sliding off my shirt, eager to comfort her. Rosalind scoots back, giving me space to slip under the sheets.

As soon as I'm in position, she rests her head on my shoulder and curls into my side. My heart swells as she nuzzles closer and slides her palm over my chest. I wrap an arm around her back and hold her close, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.

"Better," she says with a long sigh.

I inhale the scent of her hair, the familiar mix of citrus and magnolia that soothes my senses. It's a unique mix I only associate with my beautiful, dangerous Rosalind.

"This feels so nice," she murmurs into my neck, her breath tickling my skin.

I couldn't agree more, but nice is an understatement.

Holding her close like this, feeling her body relax against mine, it's something I could savor for the rest of my life. But it's a taste of heaven I haven't earned, and Rosalind knows it, too. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find the right combination of words to express my regret.

It's not just regret. The more I know about this woman, the more I find to respect. To revere. I saw the mess she made of Dr. Daniel's face. His nose was broken in at least two places. Although she was drugged, restrained, and in the throes of grief, she still fought back like a warrior.

I part my lips to speak, but my mind goes blank. What I did to Rosalind isn't something that can be erased with a simple apology. I would spend every moment in my life trying to make amends, if only she wouldn't leave.

She groans, and the first time I've ever heard her express pain.

"Are you alright, love?" I ask, my fingers threading through her hair.

"Cramps," she says with a moan.

I stiffen, my brows furrowing. "Is that a side effect of the drugs?"

"More like a side effect of missing an appointment for my contraceptive shot."

"How do you normally cope with them?" I place a kiss on her temple, wanting to take away her discomfort.

"The shot," she mutters.

Shit.

"Let me get you something," I say, readying myself to jump out of bed.

Her limbs tighten around me with a punishing grip. "You're not going anywhere."

I exhale a low groan, frustrated that she won't let me help, but grateful that she still wants me close. This is exactly what I wanted. Rosalind wrapped around my little finger, craving my touch. I wanted her to be my perfect plaything, my deadly little pet.

The reminder that I'm one of a list of men who have manipulated her makes my insides churn with a concoction of jealousy and remorse. I want to kill them all for causing her pain. I want to erase every harmful memory and replace them with the three of us as a little family.

"Alright, love," I tell her. "I'll stay."

"I can handle a few cramps, but I'm sick of being threatened or taken or tortured," she says, her voice shattering.

My stomach lurches, and I ready myself to restrain her wrists if it turns into a violent outburst. I deserve all her anger, but not until we've dealt with the Galliano brothers and the Moirai.

"I hear you, love," I murmur, my fingers still twisting through her silken strands. "If you need to work through your anger, we can talk about it, or I can take you back to the dungeons to confront that bastard."

Instead of lashing out or even pushing me away, she relaxes into my embrace and exhales a sigh.

"Rosalind?" I lean down and kiss her forehead, finding that she's fallen asleep.

The sight of her slumbering so peacefully in my arms fills my heart with a mix of desire and dismay. Despite all the harm I caused her, she still trusts me enough to fall asleep in my arms

Deep down, I know none of this is real.

Rosalind and I both understand it's just a by-product of her captivity and a manifestation of Stockholm syndrome. It's like being addicted to drugs and wanting one last hit before going cold turkey.

Losing her is inevitable, and I no longer have the heart to force her to stay. She's no longer the sexy little assassin I wanted to make my toy, but a broken woman with a tragic past.

And a mother.

I reach for the phone I left on the bedside table and send a text to the Chief Stewardess with a list of items Rosalind will need for her cramps. Then I scroll down my list of contacts and send a text to Miranda, who should have a free period after lunch.

She answers in seconds with emojis that makes me smile. We exchange several messages about her classes, new friends, and an upcoming trip to one of Helsing Island's nature reserves.

After obtaining a list of Rosalind's favorite restaurants and dishes from Miranda, I ask her to record a video wishing Rosalind a speedy recovery.

I forward Miranda's suggestions to the stewardess and spend the rest of the afternoon watching Rosalind sleep. It's a little pocket of peace we can both enjoy before returning to the chaos of the outside world.