Rosa

Chapter 52

That night, sleep eluded Rosa. It felt impossible to rest even in her state of exhaustion. Fabio and Marcello's damning texts taunted her ceaselessly while she obsessed over the secrets lurking on the flash drive that Mrs. Vitale had given her.

And Cristiano—

Dieu.

He plagued her most of all. Émotions warred with rationalité. The conflict born from this battle kept swinging between extremes. On one end, the angry bitch within was ready to condemn Cristiano without a trial. As far as she was concerned, no judge or jury was needed. Her mon beau could go fuck himself for fucking her over.

But, then, the rage would ebb and flow into a quieter voice of reason. It softened Rosa's resolve, urging her conscience to, at the very least, give Cristiano a chance to share his side of the story. Shame ate at her. For there remained a terrible weakness in Rosa that still cared for the bastard. Deeply so. She yearned to give him the benefit of doubt until more evidence was confirmed. Until his betrayal became an actual concrete thing of undeniable tangibility.

Could she afford to be so generous, though?

At the end of the day, it was her life on the line. The possibility of being traded to Mesrine like some kind of sacrificial lamb made her blood boil. Rosa didn't hate Cristiano for wanting to save his sister and niece, but she did hate him for lying to her about it. Rosa's amber-eyed gaze darted back to the flash drive once more. Mrs. Vitale's words lurked in the recesses of her distress: If De León proves to be a good man, then you won't ever need it.

A scowl darkened her face. Whether he proved to be a good man or a bad one, she couldn't change him at his core. Her heart, broken and battered as it was, probably wouldn't survive a man as hellbent on revenge as Cristiano. After losing Nijah, love and heartbreak had become two sides of the same coin. All Rosa understood now was that—love fucking hurt. The harder she loved, the more it ended up wrecking her. Maybe it was time to get the hell away from him and never look back.

In this pained manner, minutes strained into hours, hours stole from the night, and darkness brightened to dawn. Her mood, though, remained unchanged.

At 8:00 am sharp, the door to her Rosa's swung open, and Mrs. Vitale and her man stepped into the room. The green-eyed woman announced quietly, "It's time to go."

Was the exchange finally underway?

Her disposable life for Alessandro Vitale's far more valuable one?

"Très bien," muttered Rosa. "Let us get this over with..."

Too emotionally and physically drained to fight, she became as docile as a kitten to their demands. Without protest, Rosa let the guards bind and blindfold her once more and lead her to a car. About an hour later, she was delivered to another undetermined location. She waited in the backseat of the vehicle, still bound and blind, struggling to catch the flow of her captors' conversations. Their Italian, unfortunately, was too fast and too fluent for her to understand.

Rosa was still trying to eavesdrop when, with a click and a pull, she heard the car door swing open. A hand shot forward to grab her. It was followed by a harsh command, "Come."

Sa mère!

The voice sounded like it belonged to named Monte. Rosa grunted in annoyance as the faceless hand dragged her, roughly, to another vehicle and shoved her inside. The air thrummed with uncertainty as Rosa settled into this new vehicle. The door slammed shut.

Whose custody was she under now?

When the ignition stuttered to a start, she willed herself to stay calm. The hum of the engine grew louder. Rosa felt the car begin to move.