Rosa

Chapter 24

Rosa's heart gave a hard, resounding 'thud' inside her chest.

Cristiano's offer awaited her reply like a devil's deal.

Knowledge was a double-edged sword in their world. It could be used, dually, as weapons and armor. To defeat one's enemies. To guard one's life.

It could also become a noose, though.

Rosa understood—once she let Cristiano share the scope of his plans to her, she might as well let him tie a rope around her throat. If she ever tried to pull away from the man, her knowledge would choke her, strangle her. Death would be the only means to escape.

She weighed the risks and quickly determined: If curiosity didn't kill her, then the ticking clock of mortality would do it. Everyone was going to die. Eventually.

Why not sell her soul to him?

It wasn't like she was going to heaven, anyway. Might as well go out with a 'bang.' Hellfire blazing and all.

Thus, Rosa gave into her whims and answered recklessly, brazenly, "I was born ready."

His dark eyes danced with amusement. "You never disappoint, Miss Lenoir."

Miss Lenoir?

Rosa wrinkled her nose at the formality of it.

'Miss Lenoir' no longer sounded intimate enough for her ears. Cristiano had just, after all, saved her life and let her drench his shirt with her tears and snot and heartbreak.

Demurely, Rosa murmured to him, "Cristiano?"

He glanced over.

"Please," she entreated softly, "use my name as I have used yours. 'Miss Lenoir' feels so... stuffy. Especially now that you have seen me at my worst."

The left side of Cristiano's mouth tilted up. "Are we becoming friends... Rosa?"

She couldn't help but smile.

The way his deep, husky voice caressed her name sent tremors of delight throughout her body.

"Surely," Rosa whispered as she leaned closer to him, "you know that we cannot be friends..."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "No?"

She reached over to rest her hand upon his stubbled jawline. "By now, I think it is clear that you and I are meant to be much more than friends..."

As Rosa's voice trailed off, she let her words suspend between them, rife with suggestion.

Groaning quietly, as though driven against his will, Cristiano leaned his cheek into her touch. He turned his face to brush a kiss against her palm. His affectionate mood, sadly, lasted all but three seconds. Soon enough, the man seemed to catch himself. He pulled away, and the tenderness in his expression hardened with resistance.

Cristiano muttered, "You know..."

"Oui?"

"As tempting as you are, I should warn you—we have no future together."

Rosa balked.

The bastard was truly terrible at buttering up a bitch. Still, she supposed, his honesty counted for something.

With only a touch of spite, she cooed, "Who said anything about a future together? Maybe I only want to fuck you."

Cristiano winced. "You would fuck me and then forget me?"

"I mean—"

He interjected tersely, "If we ever fucked, I would not be able to forget you."

Rosa's breath shorted.