Rosa

Chapter 58

As Rosa flew back with hurried strides to the safety of the kitchen, her adrenaline was still pounding madly. Those mere seconds in Cristiano's presence had stretched like a gut-wrenching eternity. She kept looking behind her, expecting him to appear. Almost hoping that he might appear. Another minute went by. He didn't come for her. Rosa didn't know how to feel about it.

Was she relieved?

Oui.

But the relief felt suspiciously like disappointment. Putain. On top of everything else, the bastard had turned her into a masochist. A hopeless glutton for punishment. She'd become addicted to heartbreak. Une idiote amoureuse.

A fool in love.

Rosa knew she was certainly acting like a fool. Perhaps, Cristiano hadn't recognized her at all. She might be overreacting for no reason. As she stood in her stupor, dozens of servers dashed around with silver platters of champagne and caviar. Like well-trained soldiers amid battle, they moved in sync to execute their missions. Dirty dishes were brought back. Bruschetta was sent out. Soiled napkins promptly replaced. On and on, the tasks kept multiplying to ensure happy and well-fed guests. The staff supervisor scowled at Rosa's idleness.

"Cosa fai? Andare al lavoro!" barked the older woman.

Rosa couldn't understand the Italian word for word, but she caught the gist of it. Time to get her ass in gear. With an apologetic smile, she grabbed a bag of linens that needed laundering to make herself look useful. "Scusa. I will get these taken care of right now."

Scoffing, the superviser waved her away. "Andare! Prima di licenziarti."

Rosa glanced at the door. She was pretty sure that Mesrine and Cristiano were still mingling with the other guests.

Was it safe to venture outside?

Probably not. A clench locked her jaw. It would be risky to walk by them again. But there was no choice. As far as she was concerned, caution could get fucked by the wind. Every passing second chipped away at her chances of saving Angelina.

How much longer could a child survive under Mesrine's brutality?

A pressing new problem had also arisen, complicating matters more. Harry rarely failed her, but it was possible that he dropped the ball this time. Rosa had expected the girl to show up at Mesrine's side. Moments ago, however, Angelina had been nowhere in sight. Rosa only caught a glimpse of Mesrine and his bodyguards. The child's whereabouts were unknown, which meant that Harry's intel was flawed, outdated, and potentially useless. Best-laid plans were about to go to shit.

Where the hell was Mesrine hiding the girl?

A thorough sweep of the premises felt necessary. Knowing Mesrine, he'd never leave such a valuable hostage unattended, especially when Cristiano was in such close range. There would probably be more than one bodyguard, keeping a tight leash on his prisoner. If Angelina was being held somewhere in the villa, Rosa would have to get through them first.

Violence seemed unavoidable.

She tightened her hold on the hefty bag of laundry. With her arms full, Rosa slipped out the side door and prayed that Mesrine and Cristiano would stay out of her way for the duration of the wedding. She chose to take a scenic route through a side garden. It was positioned directly across the main courtyard. From here, Rosa was able to spy on the guests from a less detectable distance. She scanned the crowd, seeking out a female child with golden eyes, dark wavy hair, and an olive complexion. A girl who looked like Nijah. Her beautiful, little Nijah. Suddenly, a rush of desperation overtook her senses. Maman is coming, baby—