“He’s to blame. Not the mastermind, if his business idea is an indication of his intelligence, but he has to be a part of it.” Damian cursed and then ran his fingers through his hair.
“We don’t know, Dom. We can’t act on our emotions. You need to see it. I have a feeling there are bigger things at stake, especially taking into consideration all the information we have gathered during this year.”
Yeah, whatever he said was the voice of reason, and he might have a point, but I just couldn't let go.
Rosa.
My Rosa was alive. I would recognize her anywhere, but the unmistakable sparkle of hazel in her eyes, her full lips with a small mole on one, barely visible to anyone who wasn't as familiar with her body as I was, and her long lashes… the face I saw in my dreams.
My eyes drank in her body, her beauty, her smell, and if it were up to me, I would have kidnapped her from here and run back to Russia where she’d be safe.
But I couldn’t.
The game had just begun.
“It’s her.” I gritted my teeth, my heart speeding up just saying it out loud. All the darkness, all the nightmares, all those nights with smashed whiskey bottles. They all blurred into nothing, as if they never happened. Because my woman was alive, and I’d be fucking damned if some asshole would take her away from me. My eyes didn't miss how she flinched at any sign of his affection or how the air electrified around us. I didn't want to wonder if he ever had access to her perfection, but even if he did—as much as the thought alone made me want to kill the fucker and roar—it wouldn't change my love or the situation.
Rosa Giovanni was mine either way, but those who hurt her had to be punished.
Damian softened, placed his hand on my nape, and squeezed it lightly, giving me all the support I needed. “I know.”
And just like that, the stakes changed.
Fuck, I thought a year ago we had a war and dealt with shit.
That had nothing on what would happen next.
Conductor
Screaming loudly, I knocked all the toiletries on my nightstand off with my elbows, and they scattered on the floor, breaking or rolling under the bed while I pulled my hair painfully.
Opening up various cupboards, I searched for the one thing that could calm me down before someone showed up to silence me. Finally finding the gray scissors, I removed my jeans, sat on the bed, and closed my palm as the scissors slowly broke the skin on my thigh. The blood dripped down onto the floor, mesmerizing me with its color.
Once it was done, I breathed freely and wiped the blood with a tissue as my mind cleared from the fog of madness, and I could think rationally and plan a counterattack.
Dominic Konstantinov was here. The man still had the same aura of confidence around him, and everything female in me craved his brand of dominance and possessiveness I’d seen him give Rosa back in New York. He chose her as his, when it should have been me.
He should have been my savior, not hers. Why the hell did she need his love and protection? She had it all, the princess of Cosa Nostra adored by her father.
Everything already belonged to that bitch, who had ruined my life before I was even born.
Alfonso was a stupid and naïve fool who truly believed that my plan would make him the head of the Cosa Nostra, and he could inflict his revenge on all those who underestimated him. And his jealousy of the pakhan helped me convince him to act harshly, so much he didn't notice he was never meant to survive the plan.
Rosa Giovanni became Angelica Rossi for a reason. She deserved punishment for what she had put me through, and now somehow her man had figured it out. Only this could explain him showing up in Italy out of the blue, and in Oliver’s company, of all people. The idiot had no idea how to conduct business, so why would the pakhan of the Bratva invest in his idea without having an ulterior motive?
He wanted to save his precious Rose, once again. What did she have in her that the Harrison twins were ready to take a bullet for her? Even Sociopath considered her a sister and would put a lot on the line for her. According to my sources and research, she was one of his favorite girls after his wife and daughter.
Familiar anger raced back in, speeding up my heartbeat, and my palms sweated as my nails itched to scratch the curtains on the windows. The medication didn't seem to help anymore. I’d have to get something else.
Sliding my hand under the pillow, I took out a black and white photo of a gorgeous black-haired woman who happily waved at the camera while a man held her in his arms. She was so happy, not knowing the evil that awaited her in the future. Rubbing her face with my thumb, I whispered, “I promise you, Mama. They will pay for this,” as annoying voices from my memories flashed through my mind.
Little darling, men have come to play.
Covering my ears in the hope of forever silencing this voice, I rocked back and forth on the bed while a familiar coldness chilled me; I could smell the semen on my skin as he rubbed it in and always made me taste it. How could anyone ever forgive and forget it?
The only way to accomplish that was to destroy Rosa Giovanni. Only then, my mother would rest in peace, and I’d be able to die with the knowledge that the privileged happiness she felt entitled to her whole life was snatched from her, as she slowly, bit by bit, died in despair in a life worse than death.
Only that outcome would be fair.
