As they lay in bed together, Rosa couldn't help but smirk. "You did not enjoy watching Rodrigo touch me, did you?"

Cristiano positioned himself at her entrance and ran the underside of his shaft along her sensitive, silken nub. The head of his cock probed her folds. Rosa drew in a sharp breath at the arousing slip and slide of his foreplay.

"When I saw you with that fucker tonight," Cristiano grunted as he continued to tease his manhood along her sex, "I wanted to kill him. I did not know that I could feel such jealousy. Already, I know I cannot watch you do it again to another man. The terms of our arrangement must change."

"Change?" she drawled. "In what way?"

Right then, he pushed himself inside of her. Balls deep. To the hilt. She grunted in pain and ecstasy at the suddenness of him, the size of him.

Whimpering, Rosa's eyes squeezed shut as she willed her body to relax, to accommodate her man. "Oh, Cristiano..."

God, he was huge.

"Dio, you feel better than I ever imagined," Cristiano groaned, "like your pussy was made to take my cock."

Rosa couldn't disagree. She had never felt so perfectly filled to the brim in her life. Cristiano's hardness throbbed against the softness of Rosa's inner walls, stretching her in ways she had never been stretched before. Her heart nearly beat out of her chest. The sensations were so overwhelming. It almost slipped her mind that the bastard had dodged her question. Rosa forced herself to stay focused.

She tried to ask him again, "You never answered me—"

Without warning, Cristiano began to move inside Rosa, and she lost all power of speech as he fucked her. Slowly, thoroughly, steadily. He took such painstakingly sensual drags in-in-in and out of her body. His hand also returned to her clit, pleasuring her nub while his cock thrust inside her pussy. Her climax mounted within her core. Release was coming soon.

"I am so close, mon beau," Rosa urged. "Keep going. Please do not stop..."

His pace quickened as he started to hump her with more intensity and rigor. His arm and chest muscles grew taut and slick with sweat above her. The loud, wet, slapping sounds and smells of his shaft pounding her sex, over and over again, filled the air. Desire soared between them. He leaned over to kiss her again, catching her lips between his lips to steal her breath away. Her hips writhed beneath him as she tried to follow his rhythm, chasing mindlessly after her orgasm. Rosa's pussy pulsed with need and burned with want. It was the sweetest kind of agony.

Then, again, without warning, he suddenly pulled out of her right as she was about to explode in pure, unadulterated bliss. Rosa gasped in shock. Without breaking eye contact, he gripped his pulsing red shaft in his fist and started to jack himself off. Seconds later, he groaned and shuddered and spilled his seed all over her belly and sex.

"No, no, no," she objected with rounded, desperate eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Cristiano ignored her pleas.

He cast her a defiant, knowing look. "Your pussy did not deserve to come around my cock. In fact, you do not deserve to come at all tonight.

This petty fucker!

Rosa realized, then, too late, that this was part of her punishment.

Anger flared in her. Unrequited need and want continued to thrum inside her as well. She didn't know it was possible to feel so fucking mad and so fucking horny at the same damn time!

Rosa spat at him, "Go to hell!"

She turned away from him, but he laughed and held her tight. "Only if you come with me."

"I do not want to go anywhere with you, you selfish bastard!"

"Stay with me for a minute," he commanded, drawing her to his chest. "I need to talk to you about something."

Rosa attempted to wriggle away from him. "I do not have a minute. I feel sticky and disgusting. I need to go wash away this mess you made all over me."

He nuzzled her neck. "We can shower together. Later."

She swatted him away. "If you think I am going to let you anywhere near me again after this shit you pulled, then you have shit for brains!"

Grinning like a devil, Cristiano's hands wrapped around her wrists. He pinned them over Rosa's head and trapped her beneath his body, pressing his bare chest against her bare breasts. "Listen to me first. Per favore. Before you rain hellfire on my ass."

"Fuck you!"

"Do not be so upset, Rosa," he coaxed gently. "All things considered, I let you off easy tonight. I did not let you come, but I still made you feel good, no?"

A flush crept up her neck. He had made her feel good, and she resented him for it.

"I will not forgive you for what you have done tonight."

He gave a shrug. "Learn to behave yourself, and I will not have to deprive you next time."

Next time?

Ha!

What an optimistic bastard.

She growled, "Your audacity is almost as insufferable as your ego."

Unaffected by her slight, Cristiano pressed on, "I do not know about you, but everything has changed for me. I want to renegotiate our agreement. I will give you a choice."

Rosa's temper cooled down by a notch as curiosity got the better of her. "A choice?"

He nodded and proceeded to outline his new proposal, "You can return to Marseille. On your own."

She asked in disbelief, "You would let me go home? No strings attached?"

What about her next assignment?

What about Mesrine?

Did Cristiano intend to blackmail her, still?

He affirmed, "I would let you go home. No strings attached. De León, Favreau, and Moulin are all dead. You have done well. David will pay out the rest of what is owed to you. From there, we can live our lives as strangers. As long as you do not get in my way of my plans, I will leave you in peace."

Rosa didn't know whether or not to believe him. In her youth, she had been manipulated by plenty of liars and cheats.

Would a man like Cristiano release her from his grasp so easily?

It seemed almost too good to be true.

"How fucking generous of you," she muttered in biting tones.

"Or," Cristiano countered, "you can get on the next flight to Italy with me. Continue to work as my partner and—"

With a wary expression, Rosa prompted, "And?"

Cristiano shuffled closer to kiss her forehead, her nose, her lips. His hand reached down to cup her sex, smearing his seed all over the folds of her womanhood. The gesture felt downright territorial, depraved, and, yet, so very enticing on her supple, responsive flesh.

Softly, he replied, "And let me be your man."

Surprise flooded her face. Pleasure sang between her thighs. "What?"

Was he petitioning to become her... boyfriend?

The bastard's change of heart kept giving her whiplash.

With his fingers still playing between her thighs, Rosa struggled to concentrate as Cristiano elaborated a little more, "As you probably know by now, my way of life is full of... risk. If you choose to come with me, your life will always be in danger. I cannot promise you a future. I cannot promise you forever. But I will take you to war with me and treat you like my equal. Like my queen."

A somber shadow fell over his handsome face. He was watching her cautiously, closely. She sensed her reaction mattered to him quite a lot. Rosa's heart went to battle with her mind. She wanted him so badly.

And yet, and yet—

She sighed, "I would be a fool to follow you."

His hand lifted away from her sex.

Cristiano leaned down to kiss her deeply, whispering against her cheek as he pulled away, "You are not wrong, but come with me, anyway. I want you. I want you like I have never wanted any other woman. I cannot stand by and watch you give yourself to any other man."

Rosa frowned slightly. "You were singing a very different tune about us not long ago. You changed your mind. So quickly. I find it hard to trust your words."

With a strained expression, he confessed, "I admit, you took me by surprise. I did not know that women like you existed—until you showed up in that club in Marseille. I did not see how much of a hold you possessed over me—until you started fucking around with Rodrigo tonight."

"Is that so?"

His arms tightened around her. "Let me be your fool. I swear, I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe for as long as I can."

Against her better judgement, she found herself melting into his embrace. He wasn't promising her the moon or the stars. He was promising her something he could likely deliver, at least, for a few months. Maybe a year. She appreciated his honesty as much as it annoyed her.

With another sigh, Rosa observed wryly, "I never knew you could be so... sentimental."

He arched an eyebrow in her direction. "I was not always a stone-cold bastard. I used to be quite different before circumstances forced me to... adapt."

His origins had always been shrouded in mystery. It was difficult for Rosa to imagine him as anyone other than this present unrelenting, calculating version of himself.

Her frown turned downwards even more. "I will have to take your word for it. I know so little about you."

"Come to Italy," he insisted again, "and you will learn everything about me. In time."

Hesitation seized her.

She bit into her lower lip. "I must think things over."

Rosa definitely had a lot to consider, but, surprisingly, it wasn't fear that held her back. She wasn't really frightened of the danger. Her past with Mesrine and her current profession had been hazardous enough even before she met Cristiano.

No, what held her back was something else. Something far more potent than fear: Her re-emerging awareness of heart, soul, and mind. This awareness troubled Rosa. She was a killer by trade. She had also experienced too much loss and tragedy in her twenty-six years. She simply couldn't afford to feel too deeply or care too much anymore. Or else she might go mad. As her cold, black heart beat back to life, Rosa worried that she might fall to the mercy of her demons.

Was she strong enough to walk through the darkness?

She didn't know. She didn't feel very strong at the moment. Rosa's once indestructible, impenetrable "fuck-it-all" attitude was now at stake because of the two choices Cristiano had presented to her.

Did she want to return to her carefree albeit pointless existence in Marseille? Living like a dead, soulless woman until she inevitably died on one of her assignments?

Or did she want to chase after a man who made her feel far too alive? A man who was likely to fuck her over and break her heart?

This very dilemma was the first one in a long time that gave her pause.

Because she actually cared about the outcome.

Because she actually cared about Cristiano.

Because, against all forms of sound judgment, a foolish part of her wanted to be with the bastard, too.

In gruff tones, Cristiano asserted, "You have until tomorrow morning to make your choice. At 8:30 am, I will be leaving Madrid for Catanzaro. With or without you."

With or without her, hein?

Perhaps, the bastard was not so sentimental, after all.

Rosa swallowed a grimace.

Her decision would have to be made in less than six hours.

No pressure.

No pressure at all.