Page 13 of The Hitman's Rose

Chapter Seven

Rosaline

The news of Franciszek being dead had brought me so much joy. I was so happy that I cried, but then Giovanni had dropped the bomb on me. Don Rossi. The man, who was like an uncle to my sisters and me, had been a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He had betrayed my father and our family.

Then when I thought things couldn’t get any more emotional, Giovanni had told me of Don’s death. His son, Savio, was responsible. None of it made sense.

I locked myself in my room and cried the entire night. Several people– including Ademaro– came to check on me. Each time, I held back the tears and told them I was fine. Despite the saying, misery does not love company.

Snap out of it, Rosaline, I groan internally as I draw open the curtains, letting the morning sunlight into my room. A familiar sight pulls a smile to my face.

Ademaro is in the garden. He’s dressed in a tailored black suit. His back is to me as he carefully prunes the roses.

“The man really loves his roses,” I muse then tap the glass door. He quickly turns in my direction, looks up at my window and smiles. I hold up one finger before turning to grab my robe.

Less than a minute, I’m walking into the garden with Jakobi and Mikael behind me. They’re bickering about me wearing a robe. Ademaro approaches us. He frowns at Jakobi and Mikael.

“Leave us,” he orders. I expect the two to argue; however, they don’t. They simply nod and head back into the house. The doors close.

“Morning,” I smile.

“Good morning, Signorina Romano,” he grins.

“Trying to insult me so early in the morning with formalities?” I ask, waving a finger at him.

“I’d never dream of doing such a thing.” There’s amusement in his tone. “How’d you sleep?”

Lie. Lie. Lie,I chant to myself.

“I slept great,” I smile sweetly. “How’d you sleep?”

Ademaro looks unimpressed by my answer. Maybe he’s going to call me on my bold-faced lie. Or maybe he’ll do like everyone else and leave it be.

“You aren’t a very good liar, Signori–” His words stop, when I glare at him and cross my arms in front of my chest.

“I thought we were past the formalities, Ademaro?”

He stares at me so deeply that I feel like I’m being consumed by his eyes. I suddenly feel as though I’m standing in front of him naked. It’s like he can see every part of me. Mind, body, and soul.

“Then you prefer that I call you… Rosaline?” My name rolls off his lips so crisp and seductively. I bite back a moan as I stare up into his Cognac-colored eyes.

How can a man be so sexy?

“Rosaline does sound much better than Signorina Romano,” I sheepishly manage to say.

“Then when we are… alone…” His husky words are taunting a part of me that needs to stay behind closed doors. “I will call you Rosaline. Deal?”

“Mmhmm,” I nod. “Deal.”

“Good,” he smiles wide. “Now, let’s get you inside so you can find something else to wear.”

“My robe covers me.”

“It isn’t suitable,” he shakes his head. “Let me clear the hallway of the men and then I’ll escort you to your room.”

He doesn’t wait for me to reply. He simply heads to the door, opens it, and starts barking orders in Italian. Usually, bossy men would be a turn off; however, Ademaro makes everything look good.

“Rosaline?” he calls out.

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