Page 138 of Breaking Rosalind

At the top of the stairs, he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl for me, or will I have to keep you in chains?”

“I’ll be good.”

“Wrong answer.” He smacks my ass again.

I jerk in his grip. “What the fuck was I supposed to say?”

“You’re still unbroken. A good pet craves bondage.”

“I’m not your anything, Cesare,” I spit.

He pushes the door open and steps into a large white bedroom containing an iron four-poster with hooks running along its canopy rail. A huge X joins the posts making up the footboard, reminding me of the crosses he used to hang the other assassins.

Any other time, I would shudder at the thought of being chained to a bed, but this room is above ground, drenched in sunlight, with no lingering basement scent.

And beyond the bed is a set of French doors that lead to a balcony and a tree where I can make an escape.

“This is your bedroom?” I ask as he sets me down on my bare feet.

“It is now.”

He clips a chain to a collar I didn’t even notice was around my neck and leads me into a spacious marble bathroom with a large tub. It’s already full, with steam rising from the water.

My eyes widen. “You want to give me a bath?”

“I already told you,” he says, his voice sharp. “You’re having dinner with my brothers.”

Dinner.

Brothers.

Bath.

Old memories surface of lying still on tables with my naked body covered in sushi for the entertainment of predatory men.

This time, I won’t be helpless.

This time, I’m ready to fight back.

FIFTY-FOUR

CESARE

Why must I be obsessed with such a stubborn creature? I can’t ever grant her freedom, not even in exchange for information that will destroy the Moirai.

I could feed her some bullshit, but promising her one thing and not delivering it will shatter our progress. I noticed how her breath hitched at the prospect of being handed to my brother. I’m the devil she knows, the devil she has learned to trust.

Rosalind will tell me everything when she breaks. It’s only a matter of finding her exact weakness. I’m certain she’s resentful of her sister, although I can’t understand why. The age gap between them is an entire generation—even bigger than mine and Roman’s.

After securing her leash to a bath rail, I unravel the bandages around her chest.

“You’ve lost weight.” I cup her breast.

“Starvation will do that to a person,” she snaps.

“The total parenteral nutrition I fed into your IV should have kept you sustained.”

She flinches, her lips curling with disgust. “You fed me against my will?”

---