Rosa

Chapter 40

A lump formed in Rosa's throat. "Do you think so?"

"I do."

Bitterness shone from her golden eyes. "Sadly, I disagree with you. I am—non, was—Nijah's parent. I betrayed my baby. I failed to keep her safe. She is dead because of my incompetence."

His jaw clenched. "I know how you feel."

Rosa studied him for a drawn-out moment, sensing that he was referring to his father, mother, and sister. "I believe you do."

"I am the villain in my story," he said in a tone that seemed to echo her resentment, "I couldn't save my family from those men."

A mirthless laugh fell from Rosa as she lamented, "In that case, one could argue that I am a villain as well. In Nijah's story. Dieu, if I could trade my life for hers. She should be alive instead of me."

"I wish my death could bring back the dead," Cristiano agreed, "but that is an impossible dream. All we can work toward are possible realities."

Her curiosity fluttered. "What do you believe might be... possible?"

"Justice."

Ah, this again. The man seemed to be obsessed with the word.

"What kind of justice?"

"The kind that seeks out the fuckers who fucked us over and burns them to the ground."

"Sounds more like revenge to me."

"Revenge and justice can be one and the same."

Rosa's gaze sharpened. She thought of the two criminals he had already killed. The same two criminals who had broken into his home and killed his family in cold blood. "Has revenge helped you find peace?"

Cristiano smiled darkly. "I will let you know once all of my enemies are dead."

She remarked with a dry expression, "I see."

He cleared his throat. "May I ask..."

"Oui?"

"Who was Nijah's father?"

Rosa gave a pause before answering, "Mesrine."

Cristiano's handsome face darkened with distress. "Nijah deserved better. Far better."

Rosa couldn't agree more. She sighed in a soul-weary manner. "Mesrine had always been more of a sperm donor than a parent. He refused to claim Nijah when she was born."

"Why?"

"He believed that I had an affair."

"Did you?"

She shot him a dirty look. "I might have been a whore, but I was not a stupid one."

He grimaced. "Spiacente, I did not mean to suggest that—"

"Mesrine was a sociopath. I would not have risked his temper by letting some other man's cock near my pussy. Ironic, though, is it not? He ended up punishing me, anyway, even though I was a loyal bitch."

Cristiano demanded, "He punished you? How?"

Traumatic memories twisted into her heart like a blunt, rusted blade. Rosa closed her eyes to block out the pain. "Not long after Nijah turned four months old, she fell... ill. She was running a high fever, and she vomited every time I tried to feed her. Nijah desperately needed a doctor. But Mesrine locked us in a room and refused to let me take her to the hospital. It was his way of disciplining me, I think, for my supposed infidelity."

Her eyes reopened. She saw that Cristiano's olive-toned complexion had grown pale with rage. His anger fueled her own.

Like a woman possessed, Rosa's grievances against Mesrine continued to fire from her tongue like missiles, "This morning, when Mesrine abducted me in Madrid, he showed me some photographs of a little girl who looked like Nijah. I do not believe it is her, but he tried to convince me that our daughter was alive. That her corpse had somehow risen from the grave."

"He is beyond sick and cruel."

Rosa tossed him a cool smile. "Beyond sick and cruel is how Mesrine has always operated."

Cristiano glanced away. He fell silent for a few pensive beats.

She prompted, "Is everything alright?"

His devil-black eyes snapped back to her as he whispered in deadly tones, "Never have I wanted to take down anyone more than Mesrine. I hate him for what he has done to you and Nijah. Mark my words, Rosa, everything that means anything to that fucker will be ripped from him. In the coming months, Mesrine will watch his kingdom fall. Then, I will break his spine and let him writhe on the ground like a fucking maggot until life exits his body and his soul is finally returned to hell."

The force of his wrath felt like a kick in the chest. Rosa's mouth dropped in shock. There was a sinister threat—non, promise—in Cristiano's voice that sent needle-like prickles of anticipation across her flesh. He enthralled her.

She stared back at him in a mesmerized manner and countered, "Non, let me be the one to end Mesrine. Let me do it for Nijah. S'il vous plait. I want to look him in the eyes when I do it. I want Mesrine to look into my eyes as well, the eyes of our daughter, the daughter he killed, when he draws his final breath."

With his lips tilting upward in a diabolical curve, Cristiano reached for Rosa's hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. "If that is what you want most, then I will not stand in your way. Let us make your dreams come true. Mesrine will not know what hit him."

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Rosa found the will to smile back at Cristiano. She clasped his palm and guided it toward her lips. Brushing his calloused hand across the fullness of her mouth, she planted kisses along his fingertips and knuckles. One light, doting kiss at a time. Their sorrow was shifting into something else entirely. Tragedy still shadowed Rosa's face, but her amber eyes were glistening bright with determination. The path forward was clear. Peace of mind might not be possible after Mesrine was dead and gone, Nijah's death would always haunt her, but, more than anything else in that moment, she craved vindication. Cristiano had beckoned to the demons from her past, the bloodlust in her heart, and she was ready to answer his call.

Rosa supplied quietly, "Help me destroy Mesrine, and I will kill your enemies for you. I want to make you a king, mon beau, so no one dares to take from you again."

Cristiano gave her hand a possessive squeeze.

"I am beginning to think," he drawled, "that you and I were fated to come together. To rain hellfire on this world."

Her heart skipped a beat. Rosa had always been proficient at detaching her conscience from the dead bodies she left in her wake. There was no doubt about it: Killing without purpose had been profitable. Yet, killing with purpose felt downright sinister. More so than ever, Cristiano was tempting the evil in her. He was the serpent, and Rosa hungered for the fruit just within their reach.

She grunted with a conflicted crease on her brow. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing, really."

Cristiano urged, "Tell me what is on your mind, Rosa. Per favore. I must know."

"I was just thinking that—we will surely go to hell," she revealed with a wry smirk, "but our sins might be worth it if I can burn alongside you."

***

anima gemelli

soulmate, kindred spirit