That night, sleep eluded Rosa. It felt impossible to rest even in her state of exhaustion. Fabio and Marcello's damning texts taunted her ceaselessly while she obsessed over the secrets lurking on the flash drive that Mrs. Vitale had given her.

And Cristiano—

Dieu.

He plagued her most of all. Émotions warred with rationalité. The conflict born from this battle kept swinging between extremes. On one end, the angry bitch within was ready to condemn Cristiano without a trial. As far as she was concerned, no judge or jury was needed. Her mon beau could go fuck himself for fucking her over.

But, then, the rage would ebb and flow into a quieter voice of reason. It softened Rosa's resolve, urging her conscience to, at the very least, give Cristiano a chance to share his side of the story. Shame ate at her. For there remained a terrible weakness in Rosa that still cared for the bastard. Deeply so. She yearned to give him the benefit of doubt until more evidence was confirmed. Until his betrayal became an actual concrete thing of undeniable tangibility.

Could she afford to be so generous, though?

At the end of the day, it was her life on the line. The possibility of being traded to Mesrine like some kind of sacrificial lamb made her blood boil. Rosa didn't hate Cristiano for wanting to save his sister and niece, but she did hate him for lying to her about it. Rosa's amber-eyed gaze darted back to the flash drive once more. Mrs. Vitale's words lurked in the recesses of her distress: If De León proves to be a good man, then you won't ever need it.

A scowl darkened her face. Whether he proved to be a good man or a bad one, she couldn't change him at his core. Her heart, broken and battered as it was, probably wouldn't survive a man as hellbent on revenge as Cristiano. After losing Nijah, love and heartbreak had become two sides of the same coin. All Rosa understood now was that—love fucking hurt. The harder she loved, the more it ended up wrecking her. Maybe it was time to get the hell away from him and never look back.

In this pained manner, minutes strained into hours, hours stole from the night, and darkness brightened to dawn. Her mood, though, remained unchanged.

At 8:00 am sharp, the door to her Rosa's swung open, and Mrs. Vitale and her man stepped into the room. The green-eyed woman announced quietly, "It's time to go."

Was the exchange finally underway?

Her disposable life for Alessandro Vitale's far more valuable one?

"Très bien," muttered Rosa. "Let us get this over with..."

Too emotionally and physically drained to fight, she became as docile as a kitten to their demands. Without protest, Rosa let the guards bind and blindfold her once more and lead her to a car. About an hour later, she was delivered to another undetermined location. She waited in the backseat of the vehicle, still bound and blind, struggling to catch the flow of her captors' conversations. Their Italian, unfortunately, was too fast and too fluent for her to understand.

Rosa was still trying to eavesdrop when, with a click and a pull, she heard the car door swing open. A hand shot forward to grab her. It was followed by a harsh command, "Come."

Sa mère!

The voice sounded like it belonged to named Monte. Rosa grunted in annoyance as the faceless hand dragged her, roughly, to another vehicle and shoved her inside. The air thrummed with uncertainty as Rosa settled into this new vehicle. The door slammed shut.

Whose custody was she under now?

When the ignition stuttered to a start, she willed herself to stay calm. The hum of the engine grew louder. Rosa felt the car begin to move.

Where were they go—

That was when she heard his voice, and every one of her senses heightened to sharp, needle-like awareness.

"Are you alright?" he asked, soft and low, as though the bastard fucking cared.

She felt the brush of his fingers on her skin, so much gentler than the rude, abrasive hand from moments ago. In response, Rosa's pulse picked up speed, warmth prickled where he had touched her. Rosa loathed herself for feeling this way when she should know better. He began pulling at the ties that bound her wrists, undoing the knot that was holding it in place. Soon, she was free. Her blindfold was the next to go. The fabric fell away. Rosa could see again. Like a moth seeking flame, her gaze locked onto the tall, masculine figure sitting beside her. He stared back at her. Riveted. Almost obsessively.

Dieu.

Those eyes. Those devil-black eyes. A bitch could lose her soul in them. Breath caught in her lungs. He mesmerized her. Cristiano was truly a beautiful man. From the cut of his jaw to the perfection of his features and intricate ink that adorned his skin—now, she understood, why the devil needed to be beautiful. Such beauty made it easier to forget the fact that he was, indeed, fucking Satan Himself.

She kept her expression restrained even while her heart wrestled with emotions too thick to name. Rosa whispered, "Oui. Now that we are together, mon beau, I can finally breathe again."

Cristiano reached for hand, and she let him take it. He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it, and cursed into her palm, "I would have scorched the earth to get you back."

Bullshit!

She called bullshit!

But Rosa bit her tongue, refusing to give anything away. No good would come of showing her hand before making up her mind about what to do with him. Rosa forced a soft smile upon her lips even while she seethed on the inside. "How romantique of you."

Gently, Rosa retracted her fingers from his grasp. Oblivious to her internal chaos, Cristiano gave her a wry look as though all was well between them. "You are my woman, no? I will do anything for you. Giorgio, however, is not happy with you for the shit you pulled on him."

Rosa released a harsh laugh. "Giorgio was keeping me from you. So, I found a way to escape him."

"You did not have to tie him up. The poor fucker."

To think she had done so to test Giorgio's loyalty. Rosa felt like a fool. Cristiano didn't need her to protect him. She was the one who needed protection—from him.

Faintly, she muttered, "I am sure the poor fucker will forgive me. In time."

"The note was a nice touch, by the way."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Because it is what I would have done if our roles were reversed."

"Ah," she observed, "great minds."

"Indeed," he agreed. "I appreciate your intentions. But, I promise you, Giorgio is loyal."

She hummed noncommittally.

"Anyway, my point is—you should not have doubted Giorgio. And you definitely should not have come to Palermo," Cristiano scolded, dark eyes narrowing into slits. "All of this trouble could have been avoided. Whether or not you realize it, you have thrown a huge fucking wrench into my plans."

Speaking that "huge fucking wrench."

She wondered how Cristiano was planning to scheme his way out of this mess. He had reclaimed her but lost Vitale in the process. Mesrine wanted both of them. Cristiano was now missing half of their agreement.

Rosa flashed him a tight smile. "Do not blame me for fucking everything up. You are the one who chose to keep this shit from me, mon beau. How was I to know of your intentions for Vitale?"

He scowled. "I take it that his wife has filled you in on what happened?"

"More or less."

Cristiano's demeanor shifted. His eyes pierced through her. "How much do you know?"

She gave him the bare minimum, "That you were going to deliver Mr. Vitale to Mesrine. And pit their factions against each other. So, Mrs. Vitale decided to use me to get her man back."

Cristiano eyed her warily. "That is all she told you?"

"That is all she told me," she affirmed, bowing her head. Now, it was her turn to size him up. "Why do you ask? Is there something else that you wish to add?"

Tension held their gazes in place. Unease crackled between them. His devil-black eyes flickered. Her jaw ticked.

"No," he muttered after some hesitation, "I just want to get you away from the Vitales. Until we can find another way to overcome our enemies."

"Well, thank you for saving my pathetic ass once again. Next time, you do not need to go through the trouble."

Cristiano glared at her. "Why do you always belittle the significance your life?"

"Because I know how little my life matters in the grand scheme of things," she drawled.

A distressed look stretched over his features. "Rosa, I swear to God..."

"What?"

"You will drive me mad. I have never been so afraid of losing anyone in my life."

She scoffed. "I doubt it."

"Doubt me if you must," he argued in a voice thick with emotion, "but it is the truth. You are everything to me."

The bastard was full of it.

Right?

Rosa shot Cristiano a long, lingering look, scrutinizing him with every shred of hope inside her. A fragile hope that was threatening to shatter. Her heart twisted with desperation. If only he spoke the truth and nothing but. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out to calm her nerves. Maybe this wasn't the time to press him. Rosa knew she couldn't act brashly. Patience was paramount.

"I hope it is the truth," she sighed, "because I do not know if I will survive your lies."

He leaned his forehead against hers. Such an intimate, affectionate gesture. It was breaking her fucking heart. "You can trust me. Have I let you down yet?"

Cristiano kissed her then. His kiss inflamed her. It consumed her.

"Not yet," she confessed with a helpless expression. Unable to resist, she kissed him back. His arms came around her, and she fit into his larger frame like a piece of a puzzle. Rosa hated the perfect feel of him against her body. He held her in silence for the remainder of the drive, whispering sweet nothings as though she mattered to him. As though he wasn't lying to her. In time, they arrived a nearby motel. Cristiano grabbed their luggage and got them a room. The moment they entered their room, Rosa masked her heartache in blasé tones, announcing, "I feel disgusting. I want to shower."

He nodded toward the bathroom and grunted, "Go ahead. I have to make a quick call."

Rosa retrieved a clean set of clothes from her suitcase and took care to wrap the fabric around her laptop. Discreetly, she also made sure to bring along Mrs. Vitale's flash drive. Cristiano was on the phone, barking orders at some poor unfortunate soul in Italian, and didn't notice a thing. Once inside the bathroom, she locked the door, turned on the spray of water, and plugged the stick into her laptop. Rosa's heart jumped to her throat at what she found. Detailed instructions on how to obtain files upon files and documents upon documents, all very official-looking, for a Ms. Eve Davies. Eve Davies was a British citizen. Eve Davies was twenty-seven-years-old. Eve Davies was a stranger to Rosa.

Except for fact that the bitch had her face in every single photograph.

Fuck.

Now, everything Mrs. Vitale had hinted at was beginning to make sense, and Rosa couldn't believe her good fortune. Mrs. Vitale was a fucking saint. It seemed impossible for a mere stranger to hand her such a gift.

A gift of new life.

A means to leave her old one behind.

Surely, this was too good to be true?

There had to be a catch. Rosa was determined to find it before taking up Mrs. Vitale's offer.

After "showering," she quickly hid her laptop and the flash drive in one of the bathroom cabinets. With a poker face, she re-entered the bedroom to their motel. Rosa crawled into bed with Cristiano. She tensed when he pulled her in his arms. He nuzzled her neck. "Is everything alright?"

"Why do you ask?" Rosa snapped, her mind still fixated on Eve Davies.

Cristiano frowned at her. "Have I done something to offend you?"

"Maybe."

Concerned, his brow rose. "What is wrong? Tell me."

She felt torn.

Did the bastard deserve a chance to explain himself?

Relenting a little, Rosa mumbled, "I despise feeling so lost in your world. Your real motives are often unknown to me."

His jaw grew tight with frustration. "I have told you many times already—I keep you as close to me as I can."

"What are you planning to do about Mesrine," she challenged, "now that I have fucked up everything with the Vitales?"

"Rosa..."

"Will you let me help you with Mesrine this time or operate behind my back once more?"

Without answering her, Cristiano insisted, "I am only trying to protect you."

Correction—he was only trying to use her.

"Are you, though?" she questioned softly. Outrage burned through her veins. Sienna and Angelina were alive, after all, and Cristiano needed her to save them.

He cast her a meaningful glance. "But of course. You do not know half of the sins I have committed to get to where I am today. I am not a good man, Rosa. My soul belongs to hell. I would prefer not to drag you down with me."

She countered drolly, "I thought you wished to turn the world to ash with me?"

"I do," Cristiano murmured, "but the fires must never touch you."

"Would you stop the flames with your bare hands?"

"In a heartbeat."

"This is not a game of rock, paper, scissors. Fire always beats flesh."

"I know. But I would incinerate my soul to save yours."

Rosa leaned closer, lush, full lips hovering over his mouth in an almost-kiss, as she breathed out, "You say such pretty words, mon beau. But, sometimes, I wonder how deep your affections actually run. How far you would go to prove yourself to me?"

"Have I not done enough already?" he growled, "I gave Vitale away and fucked up all my plans for you."

Annoyance surged through her. In this, Cristiano wasn't lying. But he wasn't sharing the full story, either. Rosa pressed her breasts into his chest and watched his breath quicken with obvious awareness.

"In a hypothetical world, would you ever turn me over to Mesrine," Rosa purred as though she was flirting with him, "if he forced your hand?"

Her hand drifted toward his crotch as he grunted, "Do not be ridiculous, Rosa."

She caressed his hardening shaft over the fabric of his trousers. "Answer my question."

His eyes squeezed shut in a momentary lapse of weakness. "I..."

"Oui?"

"Hypothetically? Gun to my head? If I ever had to give you up," Cristiano finally answered in low, strained tones, "I would find a way to bring you back."

She pumped him in her fist. "So, you would give me to Mesrine? Only to save me from him again?"

He moaned quietly. "Sì."

Then, he nudged her away from his cock. A perceptive gleam shone from his devil-black gaze. Cristiano raised his hand to capture her jaw, turning her face toward him. He kept his touch was light, but the gesture was possessive. Dominating. "Why are you asking me these kinds of questions, all of a sudden, Rosa?"

Her pulse quickened. She plastered on an innocent smile. "Just... curious."

He watched her closely. "Can I trust... you?"

"Oui," Rosa whispered.

"Good girl."

Even while Cristiano rolled over to hold her like a lover, Rosa's sixth sense fluttered with alarm. Regret was a bitch. She never should've brought this up with him. Emotions kept bringing out the stupid in her. She suspected that he was on to her. Survivor's instinct warned Rosa: This conversation of theirs might very well be the closest thing to truth Cristiano had uttered all day, and his answers weren't good enough to soothe her suspicions.

Rosa's mind set.

It was time to disappear. Even if she might be stumbling headfirst into Mrs. Vitale's trap, she needed to bid adieu to Rosa Lenoir and say bonjour to Eve Davies. Otherwise, it would only be a matter of weeks before Cristiano handed her back to Mesrine on a silver fucking platter.