Rosa

Chapter 32

During the murky, gray hours preceding dawn, Rosa lay wide awake in bed, staring at the cracks and peeling paint on the ceiling of the motel room. Sleep eluded her because she was still wrestling between a rock and a hard place—

Did she want to return to Marseille?

Or risk it all for Catanzaro?

Ultimately, Rosa didn't believe that Cristiano would let her walk away from him without a fight. She already knew too much about his plans, she met his goddamn team, and the burgeoning trust between them didn't feel strong enough for him to release her so completely, which meant that he was banking on her to choose Catanzaro no matter what.

To choose him.

She scowled slightly in the dark.

The arrogant bastard certainly had a high opinion of himself.

Her mind continued to buzz with unrest and uncertainty. This agitated state consumed Rosa as Cristiano slept beside her. His breaths rose and fell from his broad, muscled chest in long, deep drags. She glanced over to him, wrinkling her nose at his peaceful, slumbering face. It made her want to kick him, not very hard, but with enough force to let him know that she wasn't happy about being put in such a compromising position.

With a huff of frustration, Rosa rolled over to check her phone for the fifth time in the past hour. The clock kept ticking closer to 8:30 am. A choice needed to be made. Her future was still in limbo.

Something snapped in her.

Abruptly, she cast aside her covers and rolled off of the mattress. In quick, quiet steps, Rosa began to move around the room, grabbing her belongings and throwing them inside her suitcases.

Cristiano soon stirred from his sleep.

In low, groggy tones, his voice cut through the shadows, "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

Rosa didn't stop packing. "I need some fresh air."

Cristiano sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes. After blinking a few times, his entire countenance grew more alert.

He demanded, "Where are you going?"

She didn't know. "Out."

After a night of tossing and turning and feeling on edge, Rosa simply couldn't stay a moment longer with this man she desired above all others. With this man who also threatened her peace of mind above all others.

From across the room, their eyes met in the silver-kissed shadows of twilight. A stiff pause stretched between them.

"Will you come back?" he inquired in cautious tones.

Her movements slowed and then stilled.

Was she planning to come back?

The question was left unanswered in her head.

A series of harrowing thoughts seized Rosa, suddenly: Control over her own life became more important than anything else at the moment. Even her intense lust for Cristiano and the overwhelming depth of emotion she felt for the man paled in comparison. For years, men like Mesrine had wielded so much control over every aspect of her life. Her body. Her mind. Her adolescence. Her innocence. They had been the source of her sorrow and her fury. The price of independence had come at such a cost. She had literally killed for it.

In her heart of hearts, Rosa suspected that Cristiano was nothing like Mesrine, but she couldn't help feeling wary, nonetheless. He was still a man, after all. A man who wanted to possess her, exclusively. A man who would be her superior in every way if she were to follow him to Catanzaro. Unlike him, she didn't speak or understand much Italian. She had never been to Italy. She didn't have any allies there. Such unfamiliar territory would place her at a huge disadvantage. Rosa would be at Cristiano's mercy.