With his arms still enveloped around her, Rosa looked up at Cristiano. Her face was full of trepidation as her amber eyes locked onto his black gaze.

"You would not believe what happened to me," she murmured, "after I left the motel."

"Try me," Cristiano insisted in a quiet manner.

Begrudgingly, Rosa admitted, "My mind was a mess when I left our room. I was an idiote. I let my guard down."

His expression softened as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "You cannot be perfect all the time, baby."

"But I must be perfect all the time," she argued. "I almost got myself killed this morning."

"But you are here now," Cristiano growled, "with me. I will not let any more harm come to you."

She gave him a long, hard stare.

In her heart, Rosa wanted to believe him. In her head, she almost believed him. For now, Cristiano was obviously her best chance at survival. But he wasn't God. He was only a man. A man who had set aside his agenda for her. As much as Rosa rejoiced when she saw him waiting for her at the airport, another part of her also realized that even a man as intelligent and disciplined and merciless as Cristiano could still let emotion rule his choices.

Emotions were dangerous in their world.

With a sigh, Rosa proceeded to recount the morning's harrowing events, "While I was walking, there was a hooded asshole following me."

Cristiano's jaw ticked, but he stayed silent. He kept listening.

Rosa continued, "He was one of Mesrine's men. Mesrine has always suspected that I faked my death all those years ago. I believe he has been searching for me ever since."

She then told Cristiano how they had ambushed her with a cab in the alleyway.

How Mesrine only agreed to let her go when she promised to spy for him.

Word for word, moment by moment, Rosa relayed her encounter with the monstrous fucker to Cristiano.

When she finally purged the horrors from her system, when she finally felt silent, he asked, "Is that everything you wish to tell me?"

Feeling somewhat drained, Rosa nodded. "Oui."

Well, almost everything.

Cristiano tucked her close to his chest. "Are you sure?"

She hummed, "I am sure."

In a low, dangerous voice, he vowed, "Then, mark my words, I will make Mesrine pay for every offense he has inflicted on your person. He is a dead man walking."

Rosa let out a weak chuckle. "That is what I was hoping you would say, mon beau."

"Once we arrive in Catanzaro, I will take action."

Cristiano's arms tightened around her, and Rosa practically melted into him. His hard, solid warmth comforted her like nothing else. She believed in his ability to take on Mesrine. Yet, even while she nestled her head into the crook of his neck, something inside Rosa prompted her to continue withholding a few details from Cristiano. Like the part about the little girl's photographs. The little girl who looked so much like Nijah.

Rosa was still trying to wrap her mind around this impossibility. Nijah was dead.

Right?

Either way, Rosa wasn't ready to talk to anyone about her baby. She had yet to confirm whether or not Cristiano was aware of Nijah's existence. She wanted to learn more about his past before she divulged everything about hers.

Otherwise, it didn't seem to be a fair trade.

This point of imbalance triggered Rosa's survival instincts. A touch of paranoia emerged. Now that Rosa had managed to escape Mesrine, now that her heightened emotions from being reunited with Cristiano had calmed somewhat, caution and logic returned to guide her sensibilities.

At the moment, she was choosing to trust Cristiano with her life.

Even though he was the one who had hired her to kill Lavigne, the one who had placed her in Hugo's path that night in Marseille, which had prompted the ugly blonde fucker to snitch to Mesrine.

Allegedly.

Rosa refused to believe that Cristiano had set her up on purpose, but, in this unfortunate roundabout twist of fate, she blamed him for delivering Mesrine back into her life, nonetheless. She couldn't, however, bring herself to hate him for it.

Like an idiote, she already cared too much for Cristiano.

Like an idiote, he was the only devil she trusted among the devils she knew.

But, Dieu, she would be the biggest fucking idiote to follow the bastard to Catanzaro without hiding a few tricks up her sleeve. Moments ago, she had left out the tidbits regarding Hugo and Cristiano's murky ties to the De León bloodline for this very reason. The truth remained unclear, especially after all the crazed conspiracies Mesrine had suggested to her. Rosa wanted to see if Cristiano might reveal these secrets on his own accord. Trust needed to be earned, after all, and, it seemed, he had already lied to her about Hugo.

Who knew what else he had lied to her about during their time together?

Just then, the rumble of the jet's engine flooded the cabin. The sound filled Rosa with anticipation. Soon, they began to roll down the runway. Once the aircraft took to the skies, bone-deep relief shot through Rosa. They were officially on route to Italy. She would be safe from Mesrine for the next six hours.

Safe⁠—until they landed in the Reggio Calabria Airport.

Then, it would be time to prepare for different battles.

The battle to take down Mesrine once and for all.

The battle to stand her ground at Cristiano's side in a foreign land where she possessed no allies.

As their plane climbed to higher altitudes, Rosa tried to put her nerves to rest.

Cristiano murmured into her ear, "Come. Let us get more comfortable. It is going to be a long flight."

He released her from his embrace and sank into one of the supple cream-colored leather seats beside the windows.

Cristiano beckoned to her, "Sit with me."

Rosa moved towards the seat next to him.

"No, no, not there," Cristiano chided as he gestured to his lap. "Here."

She arched an eyebrow. "I see."

Opportunistic bastard.

With a knowing expression, Rosa walked over and settled herself onto his lap. She started shuffling about to teach him a lesson, purposely rubbing against his crotch, brushing her breasts along his chest. Again. And again. It didn't take long for his cock to twitch with interest beneath her bottom.

A look of innocence crossed Rosa's face. "Are you sure you will be comfortable with me sitting here?"

Once more, she brushed her sex against his growing erection.

He gave her ass a light slap and fired back, "Have you ever been fucked on a private jet, Rosa?"

Rosa's golden eyes grew wide. "I—"

"Keep this up," he interjected smoothly, "and I will fuck you. Right here. Right now."

She stilled the teasing, writhing movements of her hips. Their cabin was locked, but—

Rosa glanced at the cabin door. "With everyone sitting outside?"

Smirking, he left her question unanswered. Instead, Cristiano's hand crept up Rosa's leg, under her skirt. His thumb began drawing slow, enticing circles on her inner thigh. She shivered pleasurably at his touch.

In husky tones, he muttered, "You are mine now, no?"

Rosa's heart skipped a foolish beat at the protective, doting way he was looking at her. "Oui."

A slow smile spread across Cristiano's face. His next remark was uttered like a stated fact. Not a question. "Mine to protect."

She breathed out, "Oui."

Cristiano's fingertips found her clit. He started tracing the little nub over the fabric of her panties. "Mine to fuck."

Rosa moaned faintly, "Oui."

He kissed her lips and nipped at her neck, rasping against her skin, "Mine to adore."

Shamelessly, he continued the sweet, sensual torment with his fingers. Desire fluttered between her legs.

Butterflies fluttered in her chest as well while she gasped, "Oui, oui, oui..."

Then, without warning, his hand lifted away from her pussy.

Rosa couldn't help but sigh in protest, "Please, mon beau, do not stop..."

He didn't heed her request. Cristiano pulled back a few centimeters from Rosa and gave her a shrewd look.

In a far less seductive manner, he asserted, "Do you trust me?"

She hesitated for a second before answering, "I trust you more than any man right now."

"I want to trust you as well."

The simmering passion inside her sobered instantly.

Rosa glared at him while reading between the lines of his words. "You do not trust me yet?"

"I doubt my judgment when it comes to you," he explained gruffly. "You can make a sane man feel like a madman at times, and, you must admit, your story about Mesrine is wild."

She scoffed. "You doubt my word?"

He shook his head. "Of course not. Do not get me wrong, Rosa. I believe in every word you have told me, but I wonder if, maybe, you might have left out a detail or two?"

Fuck.

The bastard was already onto her.

Rosa demanded, "What are you trying to say?"

"I am risking everything to bring you back to Catanzaro with me."

Rosa blinked a few times. "Are you, now?"

To an extent, she believed him.

The bastard had gone against his own word and waited for her at the airport. That alone counted for something.

Probably.

His expression grew serious. "I am—and Mesrine is trying to use you against me. I must not let that happen. Yet, I cannot protect you if you keep me in the dark. If you and I are to be together, then there must be nothing but trust between us. I need to know where you stand."

"I stand with you," she stated simply.

Cristiano corrected her, "Not yet. Not in the eyes of my men. Not in my eyes, either. You are still an outsider. I want my men to accept you in full. I want to trust you in full, too. I cannot give you special treatment just because you are my woman."

She bristled at his stone-cold bluntness. "That is a shame."

He smiled at her ruefully. "Trust is earned. Everyone I trust has undergone an initiation of sorts. Usually, they are assigned a task. A hit. A job. A mission that proves their loyalty to me."

Rosa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was such a mafia man. Through and through.

She sighed in annoyance. "What are you suggesting, then? Do I need to present you with another dead body prove my loyalty?"

"That will not be necessary. I already know you are very competent in your profession," Cristiano murmured. "I require something else from you."

She gulped, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Something else?"

Like what?

He requested, "Give yourself to me for a week."

Alarm prickled in her. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means," Cristiano elaborated, "if I assign an impossible task—make it possible. If I tell you to jump, you ask—how high? Prove your loyalty by the end of this week, and I will give you the same opportunity. To interrogate me for a week. To own my body and mind. To learn all of my secrets. Please believe me, Rosa, when I say that I want us to trust each other. In full."

Rosa growled, "I am not going to Catanzaro to become your little bitch, mon beau."

"No, you are coming to Catanzaro," he countered, "so that we can set the world on fire. To watch our enemies burn."

Her breath caught slightly. "Is that what we are going to do?"

His eyes glittered like a devil. "But of course."

Cristiano's proposal gave her much to consider. The thought of burning Mesrine to a crisp appealed greatly to Rosa. Nijah deserved justice. Yet, lust for revenge raged against her pride and sense of self-preservation.

She had no interest in bowing to a man's every whim. Not even a unicorn of a man. Not even for a week.

Paranoia surged again.

Was Cristiano striving to dominate her will like Mesrine?

Or would he keep his word and, in seven days' time, share his power with her?

Only time would tell.

On the other hand, this could be a golden opportunity to get to the bottom of the uncertainties surrounding Hugo Granger and the De León's and whatever else Cristiano might be hiding from her.

Rosa studied him with a critical eye.

She readily swallowed her earlier assumption. Cristiano might care for her, but he wasn't the kind of man who let emotion rule his choices. For the time being, only one thing seemed clear: When all was said and done, business mattered more to Cristiano Massera—or was it Cristiano De León?—than pleasure. Rosa didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed by his predictable behavior.

Apparently, he was cold-blooded and level-headed enough to take on a heartless, twisted fucker like Mesrine.

Still, Rosa wished that he didn't feel the need to test her at every turn. Even though she would probably do the same damn thing in his position.

Conflict raided her mind.

Cristiano would forever remain a contrast of hot and cold, soft at times, ruthless at times, but, at least, she knew their motives were aligned.

This would have to be good enough for now.

Rosa didn't have a choice, anyway. Mesrine wouldn't rest until she returned to his side. Dead or alive. She needed Cristiano more than ever.

A decision steeled within her. "Très bien! Have it your way. I will give you one week to do as you please with me. Then, it will be my turn to own your ass. When do we start?"

The corner of Cristiano's mouth lifted up in a wicked slant. His hand returned to clasp her thigh again, possessively, teasingly.

"Now."