Page 127 of Breaking Rosalind

But Gunther might stage a rescue for six captive operatives. If Brittany survived, she could lead another team directly to this room. In that case, agreeing so readily to betray the firm will have deadly consequences.

I still my features, neither nodding nor shaking my head. After staring at Cesare for a few heartbeats, I lower my lashes, hoping he’ll see that as a yes.

“Why did you shoot me in the chest?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

I stare into his sternum, trying to tune out a potential rant.

“Look at me, or I’ll kill your boyfriend,” he snaps.

I raise my lashes, my brow furrowing, which only makes Cesare’s jaws tighten.

“Do you love him?” he asks, his nostrils flaring.

My gaze darts to Branson, and I shake my head.

“Not that one.” Cesare strides over to where Axel hangs with his head bowed. “This tongueless bastard you fucked in Paris.”

Eyes widening, I choke on the gag, which only makes Cesare laugh. The harsh sound echoes through the room, and every muscle in my bandaged body tenses.

“So, he was right. You’re together.”

I shake my head again, wondering what the hell possessed Axel to taunt this maniac about the time we had sex. Gunther would have told the team I was his hostage. Was it a misguided attempt to derail the interrogation from the attempt on Roman’s life?

And what the hell does he mean by tongueless?

Cesare rushes at me with his teeth bared. “Do. Not. Lie. To. Me.”

He reaches beneath the bandage wrapped around my hair and pulls out enough strands to make me wince. Before I can recover from the sharp pain, he twists the hairs to form a string.

“Have you ever heard of hair tourniquet syndrome?” he asks.

He’s so casual about it. I stiffen, wondering what the fuck he’s planning.

“No? It’s when a strand of hair wraps around a body part so tightly that it cuts off the circulation,” Cesare says with a nod.

My throat spasms.

“It can be quite painful. Imagine that body part turning red, then purple, then black because I wove your hair into a tiny noose.”

Shudders ripple across my flesh, and I squeeze my eyes shut. That sadistic bastard wants to remove my toes so I can’t escape.

“Look at me when I’m about to remove your boyfriend’s cock,” Cesare barks.

My eyes snap open to find him standing before Axel, winding my hair around the base of his penis. The blond man twitches within his bindings, too weak to put up a fight.

A noisy breath whistles through my nostrils, and I sputter around the gag. Is he serious? Of course he is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Cesare removed Axel’s tongue.

He winds my hair tighter, tighter, tighter around Axel’s penis until he convulses. I think he’s having a fit or some kind of seizure. Cesare either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because he’s too busy glaring at me with those cruel eyes.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he asks. “If you don’t agree to give me the answers I want, I’ll use the tourniquet to amputate your clit.”

FIFTY

CESARE

I would never harm Rosalind. But all this talk of that blond bastard filling Rosalind with his rancid cock is fucking with my head. His words echo through my mind, creating a vivid image of my naked pet covered in sushi and splayed on a table, being devoured by three male assassins.

I need to calm the fuck down.

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