They pulled up to the Madrid-Barajas Airport around 7:30 am.

Rosa glanced out of the car window. The premises bustled with cars, buses, and people. Everywhere she looked was crowded and hectic as hell. Anxiety shot up. She would have less than one hour to catch her 8:30 am flight. It would take an act of God to get through the checkpoints in time. Rosa could barely contain her rising distress. But, somehow, she managed to keep calm. A neutral smile remained on her face.

She didn't have a choice but to smile through this shit, after all.

Mesrine and his goons were watching her like a hawk.

As far as Mesrine knew, she would be working solo over the next few days, scheming up ways
to approach and infiltrate Massera's defenses.

As far as he knew, she didn't have a plane ticket to Catanzaro. A ticket that Cristiano had purchased for her. Mesrine was clueless as to just how close she had grown to Cristiano in recent days, and Rosa desperately wanted to keep it that way.

When she stepped out of Mesrine's cab, unharmed and unscathed, a re-emerging sense of disbelief overrode her anxiety.

Was he really going to let her leave?

"Hold on," Mesrine barked at her through the driver's window.

Fuck!

So close.

She had been so fucking close to getting away.

Rosa's heart plummeted with dread as she glimpsed over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Kiss me," he growled, "before you go."

Every fiber of Rosa's being protested his request even while her face kept smiling, smiling, smiling—

In honey-sweet tones, she murmured, "I thought you would never ask."

Struggling not to retch, Rosa walked over to peck him on the lips. As she tried to pull away, Mesrine smirked and yanked her back to kiss her fully on her lips.

Then, she was free.

Moving like a sudden gust of wind, like water breaking through a dam, Rosa fled from Mesrine. Her heart was pounding like a motherfucker. Inside the terminal, she ducked into a nearby restroom to rinse out her mouth and wipe down her lips.

Kissing Mesrine had felt vile.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at her reflection in the mirror. Her amber eyes looked haunted. Rosa's entire being fell into a stupor. She felt cold. So cold. Shivering slightly, Rosa couldn't believe that she was still alive. She couldn't believe that he actually let her go. Suddenly, her legs felt weak. Shaky. Rosa took in a trembling breath and, one long exhale later, released the tension that had been caged within her.

Her jaw clenched.

Her gaze sharpened.

Enough of this pity party!

There was no time to waste.

Rosa removed her phone from her pocket and slid it into her purse. She plucked out a few scarves from her luggage. Rosa tucked them around her phone to muffle the microphone and obscure the camera. The scarves wouldn't offer much protection against Mesrine's prying eyes and ears, but it was the best she could manage for now.

Rosa just needed to keep him satiated until she could put more distance between them. Until she could get her ass on that flight to Catanzaro. Until she figured out a way to destroy the evil fucker with Cristiano.

As she exited the restroom, Rosa took care to blend into the masses. Every few minutes or so, she would check over her shoulder. Rosa didn't notice anyone tailing her. It seemed the monster had yet to sic his guard dogs on her, but a bitch could never be too careful or too paranoid when it came to Mesrine.

Ticket in hand, Rosa approached the security checkpoint. As expected, it took forever and a day to get through the lines. When she finally arrived at her gate, it was 8:32 am. Her flight was scheduled at 8:30 am. With a look of utter dismay, Rosa realized that she had come too late.

The boarding lines were already gone.

The boarding door was closed.

Rosa hurried over to the guest service counter and begged the airline staff to re-open the door for her.

The staff refused and sent her away.

Wearing a defeated expression, Rosa's gaze pierced through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows at the gate. She could see her plane outside, sitting on the runway. Taunting her. Cristiano was on that aircraft. Soon, he would take off for Cantanzaro.

Without her.

The bastard would never know how hard she tried to reach him on time. He would never know how close she had come to dying at Mesrine's hand.

Feeling helpless and lost, Rosa scanned the airport in a state of distress, looking around aimlessly as though some solace might be found amidst the flow of passengers around her.

Her eyes locked onto a peculiar sight.

A tall, imposing, and oddly familiar-looking man stood near the neighboring gate.

Black hair.

Dark eyes.

A crucifix tattoo was imprinted on the side of his neck.

A soft gasp escaped her lips.

The man wore a tense, brooding expression on his handsome features. She could recognize that resting bitch face from a mile away.

Rosa balked incredulously.

Impossible!

Why was the bastard still here?

Why wasn't he on his flight to Catanzaro?

In her stilettos, Rosa hurried through the throngs of passersby towards him. When his devil-black gaze plucked her from the crowds at last, his grim expression lit up like storm clouds clearing from the sky. Obvious relief passed over his face. He almost smiled at her, but, then, it was soon chased away by a scowl of disapproval.

She could practically read his mind: 'You are late, Rosa. You missed our fucking plane.'

Rosa didn't care about the stick up his ass anymore. She was beyond thrilled to see the bastard. She was overjoyed to have escaped Mesrine. This wasn't a moment to knit-pick or be petty. This was a moment of celebration.

Cristiano had stayed.

For whatever reason, he hadn't left without her.

Rosa smiled wryly at his scowl, which only made his scowl deepen.

If only Cristiano knew about the incredible ordeal she had survived to get here.

"You came," he grumbled accusingly. "I thought you would not show."

"You stayed," she shot back. "I thought you were going to leave without me."

Shrugging off her accusation, Cristiano grunted, "You certainly know how to make a man suffer until the very last minute. Why are you late?"

Rosa sidled up to him and pressed her finger to his lips, keeping her reply purposely vague, "I have a good excuse. I promise."

She prayed that her scarves and the noisy terminal had distorted their voices enough to mask Cristiano's identity and muffle their conversation from Mesrine.

Rosa reached over and swiped his phone from his blazer.

On his screen, she quickly typed out: 'Mesrine's men may be following me. He is also tracking me through my phone. Do not react. He might see us. Do not say anything. He might hear us.'

At first, Cristiano's face flickered with shock as he scanned her message. Then, outrage burned in his eyes. Finally, his gaze landed on her with unmasked concern.

He snatched his phone from her hands and wrote back: 'Are you alright?'

Rosa nodded briskly and, with a wave of her hand, prompted him for his phone with a huff of impatience. This was such an inefficient means of communication, but, at least, it seemed to be a safer alternative than talking aloud.

She tapped out a new message: 'Why did your plans change?'

He cast Rosa a sharp look and composed a reply that didn't address her question at all: 'I have chartered a private jet for us. Are you coming or not?'

Rosa grinned knowingly, typing: 'Do you still want me to come?'

Cristiano scowled once more as he gave his reply: 'Would I be standing here if I did not want you?'

She couldn't help chuckling at the prickliness of his affections for her. It was quite clear now. The man cared for her, far more than she ever imagined possible, and his bastard's heart didn't like it. Not one bit.

Cristiano shot another glare her way.

Without another word, he reached over to grab Rosa's luggage and led her through the airport to a private hangar. She moved beside him with a new lightness in her stride. Her spirits felt much more at ease.

She was reunited with her 'mon beau' again, and, for once, a man's actions spoke louder than his words. Like a true unicorn among men, the bastard had abandoned his flight and waited for her. Rosa struggled to suppress her sense of relief and happiness.

Oui, oui, oui—

Cristiano would know what to do with Mesrine. He would keep her from harm's way. Rosa was betting her life on his ability to do so.

Ten minutes later, Rosa and Cristiano were escorted by the ground crew across the runway to their aircraft. From there, they climbed up a short flight of stairs that were attached to the side of the jet. Cristiano carried Rosa's bags in one hand while holding her hand with the other. Once they entered the main cabin, Rosa saw that Marcello, Giorgio, Clarisse, and Evita were already on board, waiting for them.

Glowering, Cristiano relayed a warning to every member of his team.

"Not a word," he commanded in a quiet, subdued voice.

Cristiano proceeded to take out his phone and wrote a new message.

He showed it to Rosa: 'Give me your phone.'

Quickly, Rosa fished out the device from her purse and handed it over. Cristiano then tossed her phone over to Marcello, who caught it in one hand with a surprised expression. Everyone else turned to stare at them with keen interest.

Clarisse began to ask, "What is going—"

Cristiano cast her a dirty look.

Rolling her eyes, Evita clamped a hand over Clarisse's mouth to shush her.

Clarisse gave a muffled snort of annoyance, but she kept silent from then on.

Cristiano started tapping on his phone again.

Rosa peered over his shoulder. He appeared to be sending a text to Marcello: 'Julien Mesrine is tracking us. His eyes and ears are on this little fucker. You know what to do.'

Right on cue, a chime sounded in Marcello's pocket. The brown-eyed man pulled out his phone and skimmed the message on his screen. Understanding dawned on his face as he glanced up at Cristiano. Not uttering a word, Marcello offered a quick, confident nod as though to say "consider it done."

With a grunt of approval, Cristiano then led Rosa away from the others into a separate cabin near the back of the plane.

He locked the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Cristiano hauled Rosa into his arms and gazed down at her with an intent, intimate expression. He looked as overwhelmed as she felt about their tumultuous day. In the privacy of the cabin, his stony defenses seemed to fall away at last.

Unable to help herself, Rosa felt compelled to touch him.

To convince herself that he was real.

That she was really standing here with him.

With unsteady hands, she reached up to caress his face. Her thumb brushed across his stubbled jaw. Lovingly. Tenderly. Groaning softly, he pressed his cheek against her palm.

Rosa chose to let down her guard as well and confessed in a tight, desperate voice, "I was so frightened, mon beau. I thought I might never see you again."

Cristiano's dark eyes burned with frenzied emotion as he whispered back, "You are safe, Rosa. I swear on my life that I will keep you safe from him. Now, per favore, tell me what the hell happened after you left the motel..."