As metal pierced flesh, dark crimson bled through the pristine white of his shirt. The bullet must've hurt like a bitch. Yet, through the pain, his devil-black gaze never left hers. Cristiano's demeanor was unwavering. Almost serene. Chills ran down Rosa's spine as she watched how willingly he accepted such a brutal fate.
Absolute conviction shone from dark eyes. "Ti amo."
Rosa's breath caught. For once, she had no trouble understanding his Italian. Blood continued to flow from his wound. Such a fervent, intimate confession in a fraught moment like this one was ridiculous. Of all the things he should be worried about right now, love wasn't one of them. Yet, his timing also seemed unexpectedly... parfait.
Perfect.
Cristiano's devotion to her had never felt more potent. She could feel it in her bones.
Maybe the bastard did love her, after all, in his own twisted way?
Enough, at least, to take a bullet from her gun.
"You fucking idiot," Rosa whispered even though she was the bitch who maimed him. "Why didn't you stop me?"
He could've easily done so. From day one, Cristiano had always been stronger and faster in close combat. If he wished to overtake her, the gun would've been in his hands by now.
A strained grimace stretched over his handsome face. "Because I wish to be your idiot."
"I could have killed you."
He glanced at the nasty hole in his shoulder as though it were a mere papercut. "But you did not."
Her pulse thudded heavily. Four inches to the right and she would've hit his heart. The possibility of losing him forever was suddenly more terrifying than the risk of being sent back to Mesrine.
"What if I missed?"
Cristiano replied far too smugly for someone who could still very well bleed to death, "You never miss."
Wincing, Rosa studied her handiwork. The bloodied gash was a worrisome sight. "I tried to avoid vital organs. But you should still get that treated as soon as possible."
"Would you mourn if I died?"
"Un peu."
He remarked wryly, "Then, you should not have tried to kill me."
She arched an eyebrow. "Are you upset?"
Cristiano flashed her a feral smile. "Let me put it this way. If anyone else but you had pulled the trigger, they would have a hole in their head by now."
Scowling, Rosa grumbled, "You are awfully smiley for someone who just ate a bullet."
"That is because, now, I know where I stand with you."
"And where might that be?"
He smiled wider. "Exactly where I hoped to be."
She scowled deeper. The subtext was clear: She didn't take his life. Hewas alive because she couldn't bear to kill him.
To hide her feelings for him, Rosa argued in sharp tones, "I would leave you to die on the street if it suited me."
"We both know that is bullshit."
"I assure you, mon beau, your confidence in me exceeds my concern for you."
With a pained grunt, he took a step toward her. "I disagree. I am confident that you care for me. Far more than you are willing to admit."
Rosa lifted the Beretta at him again. "Stay back."
He scoffed at the barrel of the gun. "This again?"
"Oui."
"Relentless woman."
"I should have never let my guard down around you."
"Just now, I laid my life at your feet. Have I not earned back some of your trust?"
The bastard had, indeed, earned back quite a significant amount of trust, but she refused to let him off the hook so easily.
"Am I supposed to kiss your feet for not handing me over to the motherfucker who killed my baby and made my life a living hell?"
"I never claimed to be a hero."
With an impeccable poker face, Rosa continued, "Then, you are aware that blood staining your Armani is the bare minimum. Do not expect me to swoon when you are merely cleaning up the mess you made. You should not have broken my trust in the first place."
"Tell me, Rosa," he demanded. "Do you view me in the same light as the fuckers from your past?"
Without lowering the weapon, her eyes darted at the front door. "You would be dead right now if I believed you were anything like them."
"I see." He followed her gaze and sighed. "Yet, you still wish to leave?"
Did she?
Non.
Non.
Non.
Everything inside Rosa screamed to stay even while she forced herself to say, "Oui."
Her chest seized up with a torrent of conflicting emotions. Contrary to the venom she kept firing Cristiano's way, she would never let him die on the street. Not if she could save him. But she had suffered too much as Mesrine's whore and Nijah's mother in her twenty-six years to give up a chance at freedom. True salvation. The fresh start as Eve Davies called to her like beacon after a lifetime of torment in dark, stormy waters.
How could she let herself continue drowning when, at last, a lifeline appeared?
He challenged, "You intend to abandon me when I could bleed to death?"
Right in front of Cristiano, Rosa pulled out her phone and sent out a text: Your boss needs a doctor. Get over here ASAP.
Her eyes flicked away from the screen, capturing his gaze. "There. I have notified Giorgio. He should arrive soon to take you to a hospital."
"You will not come along and nurse me back to health?"
"Non."
"So heartless," he muttered.
Golden-amber locked on to devil-black as she stepped closer to caress his face with a gentle hand. "I am not completely heartless."
"No?"
With a sad smile, she whispered, "Je t'aime, mon beau."
A groan fell from Cristiano's lips. He pressed his cheek into her palm. "Grazie a Dio per quello."
She cast him a somber look. "But you know what they say. If you love someone, set them free."
"I—"
Effectively cutting him off, Rosa pulled Cristiano closer for a kiss. As her lips consumed his mouth, he clung to her like a dying man with no regard for his injury. His blood stained her skin while her tongue twined with his tongue.
When he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled back. "Enough."
Both hands balled into fists at his sides. "I have no desire to let you go at all. What if you do not come back?"
Rosa refused to answer him. "If I disappear into the night, would you drag me back?"
He made no attempt to hide his intentions. "You know I always go after what is mine."
"That is the kind of shit Mesrine would say," she chided softly. "Show me that you are different, and I will come back to you."
He stared helplessly into her eyes. "Just tell me what you want. The stars. The moon. Whatever your heart desires. I swear I will lay it at your feet."
"Bring me Mesrine's head in a box."
"A box?"
"Wrap that shit up. Like it is my fucking birthday."
He quipped, "Would you like a ribbon on a the box?"
"Why not?"
"What color?"
"White."
"I did not know that white was your favorite color."
"Actually, I find red to be far superior," she explained darkly, "but the white will stain, non?"
Understanding gleamed from his eyes. "Consider it done. I will make sure that your pretty white ribbon is soaked with his blood."
But such a promise wasn't enough to convince her to stay. Rosa removed herself from Cristiano's embrace.
He watched anxiously when her hand closed around the doorknob. "Do not do this to me, Rosa. Per favore."
The front door opened with a flick of Rosa's wrist, and a new plan started forming in her head. "But I must."
His hand shot out to capture her waist. She brushed him aside, and he didn't try to stop her again.
"Why?" Cristiano demanded desperately.
"Because I deserve the whole fucking sky, and you have barely handed me a star."
Despite the trust he revived in her heart, Rosa couldn't rest easy. The path ahead remained murky and uncertain. A man as obsessed with revenge as Cristiano might shift his views again if it suited his agenda. She hated the honor in his dishonor. It was an infuriating because his fury was very much warranted. Rosa knew she had been fortunate enough to crawl her way through hell. But Sienna remained trapped, helpless to escape the nightmare Mesrine had caged her in. Rosa grimaced slightly. She wouldn't wish such a fate on any woman, let alone Cristiano's own flesh and blood.
How could she blame Cristiano for stopping at nothing to rescue his family?
His sister was prisoner much in the way Rosa had been Mesrine's captive. A child's life was also at stake, for fuck's sake. Angelina looked so much like Nijah. Grief weighed on Rosa. If Sienna's daughter had been Nijah, Rosa would've done anything to save her. It became apparent to Rosa that, as long as Cristiano's loved ones remained in jeopardy, he might still sacrifice her for the greater good.
Even if he was willing to die for her.
There was only one way to salvage their future. She had to, somehow, retrieve Cristiano's sister and niece from Mesrine's clutches, then, and, perhaps, only then, could the two of them finally be together without the threat of heartbreak.
Fear and trepidation fluttered alongside her pulse. Rosa's reservations, however, didn't only center on the tragedy of Cristiano's life. They stemmed from her own misery as well. Ever since she'd been stolen from Morocco, her value as a human was diminished to a mere plaything for men. If her clients wanted her to smile, she smiled. If they wanted to fuck, she fucked. If they wanted her to kill, she killed. Even now, her needs and wants seemed to matter very little when survival was constantly at stake.
After Nijah died, Rosa's broken heart brimmed with a desperate, grieving love that had nowhere to go. She possessed no one deserving enough to receive it. Therein lay the tragedy of her existence. Real human connection was a fantasy. Transactional sex and violence had become her only currency. Indignation burned within her. Rosa felt a desperate need to prove that she was worth more than a pretty face attached to three tight holes. That she was more than a bitch with a Beretta who never missed a target.
Her heart was beating. Her mind felt sharp. Her existence mattered. She wanted to grab life by the fucking throat and, for once, live on her own terms. Rosa wished to break from the shackles of her past and be free to love, to live, and to kill for those she wished to protect.
Oui.
Oui.
Oui.
Her gaze stretched out the door into the darkness of the night. Rosa would be gone within the next few seconds, and she intended to pour her time and energy into locating Sienna and Angelina. If necessary, she wouldn't hesitate to leave a trail of bodies in her wake. She would do what must be done.
Taking in a deep breath, Rosa readied herself. Her soul had lain dormant for far too long. It was time to step out of the shadows and resurrect her purpose. Monte and Mariposa's wedding was fast approaching. Then and there, Rosa might have the opportunity to cross paths with Sienna and Angelina. Rosa felt a kinship with them. Like survivors of the same storm. Years ago, no one came to her rescue when she needed a hero. Perhaps, with a bit of luck and painstaking planning, she might be able to remove mother and daughter from a similar fate.
She would become their hero.
She would become Cristiano's hero as well.
But she refused to let down her guard ever again. She had never loved a man until Cristiano stole her heart. For the last few weeks, he drew emotions from her that kept fucking with her judgment. Rosa's chest grew heavy and tight.
Love was supposed to make one stronger, non?
Not weaker. Never weaker. If Rosa was to fight for him, she also expected the same of Cristiano. The bullet in his shoulder wasn't enough. She needed Cristiano to set the world ablaze, as he promised, and lay their enemies at her feet.
Before?
She might have been content with much less.
Now?
She expected him to build her a kingdom fit for a queen. Mrs. Vitale's advice echoed through her mind: Never give your heart to a man unless he has fucking earned it.
For now, Rosa would disappear until Cristiano did just that.
His devil-black gaze searched her eyes as though he was desperately trying to find an answer. "I do not know if I fully understand your meaning."
Cristiano's large, muscular frame slumped against the wall. The blood loss was getting to him. The pain must be excruciating by now. He was growing weaker. Too weak to stop her.
Rosa glanced over her shoulder as she walked out the door, murmuring, "You are a smart man, mon beau. Maybe the smartest I have ever met. Figure it out."