Rosa

Chapter 15

Rosa awoke the next morning.

Not all at once.

But in groggy, gradual increments.

Her mind and body didn't feel fully refreshed or rested. There was something about sleeping beside another person that made it impossible to relax her guard even in a subconscious, slumbering state.

Especially when that person was a trained killer with unknown intentions.

With eyelids still feeling too heavy to lift open, her hand crept blindly over to Mr. Massera's side of the bed.

The sheets felt cool and empty to the touch.

Shit.

Where did he go?

Her eyes blinked open and alert. Morning light poured through the window, stinging her vision as her gaze adjusted to the brightness. She sat up and glanced around the motel room in a sleepy stupor, searching for her missing bedmate. Rosa scanned the motel room—tiny television, rundown dresser, peeling wallpaper—until she found him standing in the corner of the room. Mr. Massera cut a tall and imposing figure. Rosa noticed that he was already fully clothed and drinking a cup of coffee.

Yawning, she grumbled, "How long have you been up?"

Mr. Massera's gaze flicked towards her. "Not long."

"What time is it?"

"9:08 am."

Already?

Today, at 10:00 am, Claude Moulin was set to attend a private auction sponsored by the Museo Cerralbo.

Rosa needed to get ready to go. She was planning to sneak into Moulin's hotel room while he attended the auction. There, she would await his return.

First—to question him about Mr. Massera.

Then—to unalive him for the rest of her paycheck.

Moulin's suicide note had already been written for him. Rosa was able to forge it in his own hand after mimicking some pen-to-paper documents obtained during her preparation weeks ago for Lavigne's assignment. She had also uncovered a bit of his medical history. Apparently, Moulin had suffered from chronic depression and anxiety ever since he became a lawyer. Thus, death by suicide wouldn't raise too many eyebrows with authorities or his underworld associates.

Sometimes, the levels of her own diabolical genius frightened her, but working smarter and not harder had always been Rosa's preferred method of doing things.

She leapt from the mattress like a student who was running late for class, sighing at Mr. Massera, "Why didn't you wake me?"

Without waiting for his reply, Rosa hustled across the room to get dressed. Her firm, rounded tits bounced along with her stride.

Mr. Massera's eyes followed her swaying breasts every step of the way. "What?"

The man sounded distracted. He looked distracted, too.

Wryly, Rosa called him out, "Enjoying the view?"

"I am only looking," Mr. Massera remarked mildly, "I will not touch."

"I plan to head out soon," Rosa informed him in a preoccupied manner as she shrugged into a fitted black blazer, sans dress shirt, with matching black trousers, "to earn the rest of my €100,000."

Even buttoned up all the way, the blazer cut a low, scandalous V down her décolletage.

"It seems we will both be put to work today," Mr. Massera murmured, allowing his eyes to wander appreciatively all over her as though she was his woman. "I will be out as well. If I do not return tonight, there is no need to wait up. We can touch base tomorrow morning."