Fuck-fuck-fuck—went every beat of her hammering heart.

Rosa's nerves clenched with dismay as a thread of understanding slowly wrapped themselves around her current predicament like a slithering reptile, circling, constricting, and, ultimately, strangling its prey.

She was, pardon her French, tellement foutu! So very fucked!

Her frantic thoughts couldn't help fixating on Cristiano's declaration right before he left Catanzaro: I will be gone for a few days to retrieve something in Palermo.

The then vagueness of his remark was becoming all too clear. It seemed the "something" that the ruthless, ballsy bastard had come here to "retrieve"—or, more like, forcibly abduct—was none other than Alessandro fucking Vitale. This was why, Rosa concluded at whiplash speeds, she now found herself bound and held at gunpoint in front of this poised yet pissed-off-looking woman. This intimidating, no-nonsense, green-eyed bitch who was, undoubtedly, Vitale's pampered mafia wife.

Except, Rosa noted as she prepared, reluctantly, to eat her own fucking words, there was nothing "pampered" about the shrewdness in Mrs. Vitale's gaze or her capo-like command of this situation.

An annoyed tick clenched Rosa's jaw.

She refused to let anyone, not even this impressive female, get under her skin. With some effort, Rosa willed her expression to remain unimpressed and unbothered. Much like she had witnessed her mon beau do so many times in the past.

Earlier, when the guards zip-tied her wrists together, Rosa had curled her hands into fists to widen the circumference of her wrists. Now, by relaxing her hands, she possessed a few extra millimeters of space to work her thumb through the plastic ring. Rosa kept a vigilant eye on Mrs. Vitale, the gun on the table, and the bodyguards looming on either side of their mistress as she strained to free herself from the zip ties as discreetly as possible. She needed to find a way to flip this dismal situation in her favor. Mrs. Vitale had become the dragon to her damsel. The stress under such circumstances left Rosa feeling all out of sorts. She was used to being the hunter. Not the hunted.

Yet, lately, Rosa noticed, ever since she started softening her heart and spreading her legs for a certain devil-eyed bastard, shit kept hitting the fan. Somewhere, along the way, she had lost the upper hand in her own life. He left her weakened. Vulnerable even. He wrought havoc on her judgment and undermined her once indestructible instinct for self-preservation.

Fuck Cristiano for not telling her about his plans to capture Vitale.

Fuck him for putting her in this position.

And fuck her for being careless enough to become targeted, time and again, by those who sought to harm her. Like Mesrine and his men. Like Mrs. Vitale.

Within an instant, Rosa's resolve hardened to steel. She needed to think like a self-sufficient bitch once more and not some stupid girl waiting for a man to save her. Cristiano and his vows to protect her meant nothing at this moment. She was on her own. A harsh truth—that would serve her well to remember next time he whispered more empty promises in her ear.

Rosa's gaze thinned as she analyzed her green-eyed opponent.

Mrs. Vitale must have determined that she was of some value to Cristiano. Valuable enough to be snatched up as a "bargaining chip" of sorts. Otherwise, a woman of Mrs. Vitale's stature wouldn't have gone through the hassle of capturing a nobody like her.

How did the bitch find out about their relationship, anyway?

She held back a frown. Probably Marcello and his big mouth. Le traître. The traitor. How interesting to note, though, that Marcello actually believed she was important to Cristiano.

It made Rosa wonder, with some trepidation, if she was truly that significant in Cristiano's eyes?

When push came to shove, would the bastard be willing to sacrifice his end game for her life?

Rosa couldn't say for sure, she didn't even know whether or not she would want him to sacrifice his revenge for her sake. Knowing what she knew about his family's tragic fate, he deserved vengeance more than anyone in her acquaintance. Rosa's uncertainty on this matter left a tight, unpleasant knot in her chest. Rosa possessed no clue as to how to untangle this jumbled mess of emotion, so she rejected the feelings outright.

Enough with this sentimental bullshit!

The only question that mattered right this moment was—how could she convince her green-eyed captor that they didn't have to be enemies?

Rosa determined that Mrs. Vitale was unlikely to kill her. The bitch might torture her, sure, or smack her around a few times if she refused to play along. Ultimately, however, Mrs. Vitale needed her alive in order to negotiate and ensure Mr. Vitale's safe return.

A multi-layered strategy began forming in Rosa's mind.

Amber eyes locked onto green ones as she purred in soft, pliant tones, "I hope it was not too much trouble for you to track down little, old me."

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Vitale returned wryly, "It was no trouble at all."

Rosa tilted her head to the side in a disarming manner. "You are Vitale's wife, I presume? You are stunning. Truly. Your husband is a lucky bastard."

A compliment served. To butter up her jailor. Rosa had spoken sincerely, though. The woman was stunning.

A smirk pulled at the left corner of Mrs. Vitale's mouth, but her eyes remained hard as stone. "Likewise. I can see why De León is so attached to you."

As they conversed, Rosa continued to loosen her thumb from the zip tie.

"De León is not special," Rosa murmured demurely, "I tend to leave a favorable impression on most men."

A light chuckle slipped from Mrs. Vitale's lips. "You don't lack confidence, that's for sure."

"That is because women like us know our worth, non?"

Mrs. Vitale studied her with newly sparked interest. "But of course."

Rosa knew that she needed to first establish herself as a non-threat. To lower Mrs. Vitale's guard.

Rosa drawled onward, "I must apologize for my friend's abysmal behavior. I swear on ma mère's life, Cristiano De León's actions are his own. I had no knowledge of his designs on your husband—"

It felt crucial to distinguish herself from Cristiano in Mrs. Vitale's mind. Cristiano was the enemy who had stolen her husband away, after all. It didn't seem wise, Rosa decided, to tie herself too closely to his crime or company with Mrs. Vitale's Glock pointed straight at her.

"But I will be happy to help you recover what is rightfully yours."

Rosa made a conscious choice not to beat around the bush. Marcello had been reporting back to the Vitales for God knows how long, so there was little to gain from disputing the facts that he already fed them.

Mrs. Vitale held the perfect poker face as she drawled, "You speak as though my husband is a stolen wallet."

"Or a lost puppy," Rosa quipped. "Either way, if you are willing to work with me, our motives might actually become aligned."

Could Mrs. Vitale's trust be enticed by such an offer?

"Everything you say is what I want to hear, which tells me you're good at reading people," Mrs. Vitale observed keenly, "and I'd be an idiota to take such a clever bitch's word at face value."

"There is no need to hold me at arm's length," Rosa insisted, "when I want to be your friend."

"Why should I trust you?" clipped Mrs. Vitale. The woman looked mildly irritated and definitely unimpressed.

Rosa hadn't wanted to reveal her trump card so soon, but time wasn't exactly on her side, and she could sense that Mrs. Vitale's patience was beginning to run thin. "Because we share a common eyesore that must be removed. Mesrine."

Recognition of the fucker's name flickered in Mrs. Vitale's green eyes. "Mesrine?"

At last, her thumb slipped out from its binding. Giving nothing away, Rosa kept her expression neutral as she nodded. "Oui, Mesrine."

"What makes you think that Mesrine is my enemy?"

"From what my sources have told me"—her sources being Harry—"Mesrine has been reaching out to some old friends of yours. The Berlusconis and the Trevisanos. I would hate for them to cause you or your husband any trouble, especially after you left your old life behind for greener pastures."

Mrs. Vitale tossed her an amused look. "I feel as though you're trying to threaten me."

"I would never dream of threatening you."

"Might I remind you that you're the one in danger right now?"

The woman was half-right. The barrel of Mrs. Vitale's Glock remained aimed at her, and she was still outnumbered. Three to one. But Rosa was no longer as helpless as she had been moments ago. With both hands behind her back, Rosa had been a busy bitch, maneuvering her freed thumb around the zip tie in painstakingly slow and barely noticeable increments.

Rosa retorted, "And I am simply reminding you of what is at stake—your hard-won freedom from your past—and how I might be able to serve your cause with my, ah, unique set of skills."

Out slipped one of her hands. Rosa took care to hold her wrists in place, though. To give the illusion that she was still at their mercy.

Mrs. Vitale narrowed her eyes. "If you bring my husband home, then, maybe, we can talk. Until then, I don't give a fuck about your skill sets. Alessio's well-being is the only thing that matters. He's my world. Take him from me, and I won't hesitate to become the Devil Herself to bring him back."

The pure fury and passion and in her voice sent chills across Rosa's skin.

What did it feel like to love a man so much that a woman might sell her soul for his sake?

An unexpected coil of jealousy gripped Rosa's heart.

Would she ever love Cristiano in the way Mrs. Vitale loved her husband?

Only God could answer such a question.

Or, perhaps, the Devil.

Rosa's mind began to race. Her pulse quickened as well. She was fast becoming captivated by her captor. Rosa refused to give up on winning Mrs. Vitale over, declaring boldly, "I do not believe that De León wishes to harm your husband."

Mrs. Vitale demanded, "Then, why did he take him?"

Rosa hesitated as she tried to make sense of Cristiano's motives. She put herself in his shoes and tried to think as he would think.

The bastard had wanted an alliance with the Vitales, non?

What would be the quickest way to establish one?

A man like Vitale possessed many enemies. He wouldn't trust any stranger within such a short timeframe. So, Cristiano needed to prove his worth in a way that Vitale couldn't ignore or refuse. Kidnapping him was, very likely, a means to this end.

"I believe," Rosa theorized with a thoughtful expression, "it was De León's intention to prove that he is a capable bastard. Capable of achieving something that others cannot. Something that should be damn near impossible to do."

Mrs. Vitale caught on to her insinuation with ease, "By seizing a man like my husband?"

Exactement. Exactly.

A man of Alessandro Vitale's stature and importance should've been impossible to kidnap, but Cristiano had managed it, anyhow.

"Oui. But De León did not target him as an enemy. He comes to him as an ally."

Mrs. Vitale's beautiful features darkened with displeasure even while intrigue shone from her eyes. "I don't know whether to believe you. Or commend your talent for bullshit."

"I know it sounds ridiculous. But hear me out. S'il vous plait—"

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Mrs. Vitale interjected, "Tell me. What's your relationship with Cristiano De León?"

Her relationship with... Cristiano?

This gave Rosa pause.

Her regard for the bastard ran deep, deeper than it should, and she felt as though he cared for her as well in his own unpredictable, mercurial manner.

But was she his fuck buddy?

Friend?

Employee?

Or girlfriend?

Rosa found herself answering honestly, "I... do not know."

Dieu.

Why the fuck did she say that?

Why didn't she lie?

Rosa was well aware of the fact that Mrs. Vitale was only asking to appraise her worth as a hostage. She should've said whatever was necessary to make herself appear priceless to Cristiano. Beloved. The more Cristiano coveted her, the safer she would be in Mrs. Vitale's custody.

"Marcello tells me otherwise," Mrs. Vitale countered. "He says Cristiano has never looked at any other woman the way he looks at you."

At this, Rosa's eyes went wide. Her heart ached for this to be true even while the prospect terrified her. It made Rosa want to throw herself back into the bastard's arms right this second. It also made her want to run in the opposite direction and never look back. No man should ever have such a hold over her mind, body, and soul.

She couldn't possibly survive the volatility of such love.

"He cares for me, I think," Rosa confessed in pensive tones, "enough for you to negotiate your husband's safe return."

"How do you feel about him?"

This question threw Rosa for a loop. "Why does it matter?"

Mrs. Vitale didn't need to know about her feelings for Cristiano in order to get her husband back.

Mrs. Vitale flung her a pointed look. "Because I need to know what kind of woman I'm dealing with here."

Ah.

Hoping to gain Mrs. Vitale's trust with the right answer, Rosa chose her answer carefully, "I... respect him. He is unlike any man I have ever met."

"Does he love you?"

Rosa smirked. "Sometimes."

"Do you love him?"

Rosa's heart lurched with an overwhelming tide of emotion. "Non."

She prayed it wasn't love.

"Good," remarked Mrs. Vitale, "Never give your heart to a man unless he has fucking earned it."

For some reason, this offhand advice resonated with Rosa. She clung to it like a penniless beggar who had chanced upon a precious jewel. It suddenly became apparent that Cristiano had yet to earn her love in the way Alessandro Vitale had earned his wife's undying devotion.

Cristiano's affections paled in comparison. Oui, he appreciated her body. Oui, he respected her person. But the bastard would never compromise himself for her heart because she wasn't his equal, at least, not from his perspective, no matter how much he enjoyed fucking her and caring for her whenever it was convenient to do so.

If he had regarded her as his equal, then he would've told her of his plans, they would've gone after Alessandro Vitale together, and she wouldn't have become a pawn, yet again, in this stupid, dangerous game played by ruthless criminals.

Piece by piece, these realizations seized her consciousness, slowly smothering what little light existed within her. Darkness prevailed.

Rosa winced as though in pain, uttering quietly, "I could not agree more."

Mrs. Vitale's eyes lingered on her as though she saw something that Rosa could not see, but all she said was, "I'm glad we see eye to eye on some things. At any rate, you'll be transferred somewhere else until I can convince De León to trade you for my husband."

"Oh?"

"As long as you don't cause trouble for us, I'll make sure that you're comfortable there. You'll be given a place to sleep and shower, and you'll be fed three times a day until this matter resolves itself."

Disbelief flitted across Rosa's face. "You... do not intend to hurt me?"

"No, it's not my style to maim or threaten," Mrs. Vitale admitted. "I'm a doctor by trade, after all."

"Then, why did you bring me to a place like this?"

"For the effect," Mrs. Vitale shot back in an almost cheeky manner, "you should've seen the look on your face when we first pulled that bag off of your head. I always wanted to interrogate someone in an abandoned warehouse."

Rosa's eyelids fluttered in surprise.

Had this woman been fucking with her all along?

The balls on this bitch!

Rosa's outrage battled with a trickle of begrudging respect. Mrs. Vitale was nothing like she expected. The woman was obviously not one to be fucked around with, but she wasn't cruel nor humorless, either. She was also loyal to a fault. Such qualities might very well make Mrs. Vitale a worthy ally, indeed. Rosa decided to double down on her efforts to recruit the woman.

"What about Mesrine?" she tossed out again. "Does he not concern you?"

Mrs. Vitale threw back in mocking tones, "Why should I be so concerned about Mesrine?"

She informed her in honest, sincere tones, "This world is not big enough for all of us in Mesrine's eyes, and he will not rest until he is the only one standing. You need our help to take him down."

"My husband and I have survived years without your help. I'm sure we'll be able to survive a few more on our own."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Vitale," Rosa chided gently, "do not let pride stand in the way of victory."

"What do you know about victory?"

"Not much. But I know Mesrine well. He terrorized me for many years. He is a monster. A competent one, too."

Green eyes pierced through golden ones. Mrs. Vitale's face softened as though she could detect the hidden anguish in Rosa's ties to Mesrine. "I've heard horror stories of his dealings in human and sex trafficking. Of what he's done to young, innocent girls. Men like Mesrine are evil incarnate. May he burn in hell, and may you be the one to send him there."

Rosa gave her a trite smile. "Believe me, I would like nothing more than to end the fucker's life in the most brutal and merciless fashion possible."

Her gaze carried a touch of respect for Rosa.

"What's stopping you?" challenged Mrs. Vitale.

A scowl creased over Rosa's mouth. "Taking out a man like Mesrine is easier said than done."

To Rosa's surprise, Mrs. Vitale hummed in agreement, "I suppose you're not wrong. Only the good die young."

Like Nijah.

Rosa nodded with a pained grimace. "And Mesrine has no intention to die. Recently, I learned that he is seeking to stake a claim on the business of guns, bombs, and warfare that Aberto De León left behind."

Mrs. Vitale grew silent for a moment, cunning and calculation shone from her eyes, before recovering with a cough, "What Mesrine intends for the De Leóns has nothing to do with my family. I have no interest in getting involved with his illegal activities."

Rosa murmured, "But he will involve you, regardless. Mesrine is eyeing you and your husband like ripe fruit for the picking."

A perfectly shaped eyebrow arched up. "Is he now?"

Again, Rosa tried to be as honest and sincere as possible, appealing to Mrs. Vitale's good graces, "I have every reason to believe that Mesrine, the Trevisanos, and the Berlusconis intend to redirect the profits from your enterprises into their wicked, little ventures."

Mrs. Vitale flashed her a tight smile. "Not if I have anything to do about it."

"How do you intend to stop them?"

When Mrs. Vitale didn't answer her, Rosa pressed harder, "If we do not kill Mesrine first, then, soon, there will be no one left—no one formidable enough, anyway—to block his path forward."

Ignoring Rosa's warning, Mrs. Vitale responded by calmly tucking her Glock back inside her Birkin. "I'm sorry for cutting our conversation short—"

She then rose from her chair and headed for the door. "But I must get going. My guards will escort you to your next destination shortly. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Lenoir."

Rosa withheld a grimace. It was clear their interrogation was over, and she had failed to rally Mrs. Vitale to her side.

Right before Mrs. Vitale exited the warehouse, however, she halted to address one of her guards. "Monte?"

Rosa's ears perked up at his name.

Why did it sound so familiar?

"Sì, Signora?" he grunted back.

"Make sure to secure Miss Lenoir's hands before you leave," Mrs. Vitale instructed with a knowing gleam in her eyes. "I believe our clever guest found a way to free herself."

What?

Rosa's mouth fell open.

How had Mrs. Vitale noticed her?

She had escaped from zip ties several times before and never gotten caught by anyone!

The guard named Monte shot her the dirtiest look. "Cagna subdola."

It was then Rosa realized where she'd seen his name before, the wedding invitation Mesrine's men had left her to find: Mariposa De León & Monte Rienzo.

Could he be the groom?

Rosa looked Monte dead in the eye and asked, "Is your last name... Rienzo?"

He watched her with suspicion. "Non sono affari tuoi."

She decided to take a shot in the dark, speaking loud enough for Mrs. Vitale to hear as well, "If your name is Monte Rienzo, then, you should know, Mesrine is plotting something for your wedding. You and your fiancée, Ms. Mariposa De León, may be in danger."

This time, unlike earlier, her warning stopped Mrs. Vitale in mid-stride.

Monte growled, "Lascia il nome della mia donna fuori dalla tua fottuta bocca."

Rosa shot him an evil eye. She didn't need to understand Italian to guess that whatever he had said to her was insulting as hell.

Mrs. Vitale looked over her shoulder. "Where did you obtain this information, Miss Lenoir?"

Rosa eyed her warily. "When Mesrine's men attacked me two days ago."

Mrs. Vitale held Rosa's gaze, a sharp green clashed against a fiery gold, as though both fearsome females were sizing each other up and trying to read one another's innermost thoughts. A tense beat stretched between them before Mrs. Vitale broke the silence.

"Tell me everything you know about Mesrine's plans for the wedding, Miss Lenoir," she finally urged, "and, perhaps, we can become friends, after all."