Rosa

Chapter 48

The next morning, Rosa awoke in Cristiano's bed to the sound of running water and a ringing phone.

Eyes still closed, her hand drifted over to his side of the mattress. The sheets were cool and empty to the touch.

Groggily, her eyes fluttered open.

The digital clock on his nightstand showed that it was barely 6:00 am.

She glanced toward the bathroom. The shower was running. It seemed Cristiano was already up at this ungodly hour.

Crazy bastard.

Her phone continued to ring. With a frown, she glanced at the screen. She recognized the number. It was Harry. He was calling her back.

About damn time!

She picked up and grumbled into the receiver, "What took you so long?"

Harry chided in gruff tones, "My life doesn't revolve around you, Rosa."

"Maybe it should."

"Maybe you should learn to be more patient."

"I am a woman of action. Not idleness. That is why you adore me, mon ami."

"Ha! That's what you think," he snorted derisively. "What do you want from an old bugger like me, anyhow?"

Rosa proceeded to fill him in on the details regarding Mesrine's meddling with the Vitales. To err on the side of caution, she also shared the names of Cristiano's inner circle. If there was any dirt to be found on Clarisse, Marcello, Evita, or even Cristiano's ever-loyal Giorgio, then Harry was the only meticulous enough bastard she trusted to dig it all up for her.

A twinge of apprehension ticked through Rosa.

Even though Cristiano had given her permission to reach out to Harry, she knew that her mon beau would probably throw a fucking fit if he found out that she'd shared the identities of his closest associates with Harry, who, to him, was a complete stranger.

Anxious amber eyes darted toward the bathroom door once more.

Good thing the bastard enjoyed long showers.

What he didn't know, Rosa reasoned, wouldn't hurt him. If Harry found nothing, then Cristiano would be none the wiser, and they could proceed with their plans accordingly. If Harry did find something, however, then—

The water shut off.

Shit.

Rosa quickly wrapped up her conversation and hung up the phone before her hand could be caught in the proverbial sweets jar.

Nearly a moment too soon, Cristiano stepped out of the bathroom in all his naked glory. An instant was all it took for Rosa's sense of guilt to spark into lust. Shamelessly, her eyes drank in the beautiful, fuckable sight of him. His black hair was still damp from his shower. Her gaze trailed over the intricate devil-black ink that clung to his tanned, chiseled muscles. Each tattoo looked as though it had been etched in sin and sex. His heavy cock and balls hung between his legs, swinging with every step, as he walked toward her.

Stopping at the edge of the bed, he arched his eyebrow at her. "Enjoying the view?"

Rosa grinned. "Always."

With both hands, Cristiano reached out to grasp her bare legs, pressing his lips to her ankle as he growled, "Come here."

She sighed contentedly as he nipped and kissed his way up, up, and up, lingering around her inner thighs.

"I will be gone for a few days," he murmured against her skin, "to retrieve something in Palermo."

Her eyes closed in anticipation. She could feel his breath, hot and full of wicked promise, whispering over her sex. Rosa muttered in distracted tones, "Does it have something to do with the wedding?"