Page 139 of Taming Seraphine

The ringing continues, accompanied by thudding. Whoever’s on the other side of the door can’t be a professional killer. They’re creating enough ruckus to give their target time to arm themselves or be halfway down a fire exit.

This is probably Rosalind, trying for another hookup after getting dumped by Cesare. It’s a pity because they’d be a match made in Hell. She loves it hard and rough and degrading while he… Let’s just say Cesare can give her all that and more.

I position myself away from the door and yell, “Who’s there?”

“Where is she?” screeches an unfamiliar female voice.

“You’re going to have to give me a clue,” I say.

“Rosalind,” she yells. “What have you done to my sister?”

My brow raises. Rosalind didn’t mention having any siblings, though I suppose there was a limit to what she could say with her mouth stuffed with a gag.

“She’s not here,” I say.

“So, you admit to knowing her?”

“I admitted to there being no one here by the name of Rosalind,” I say.

The woman behind the door sobs. “That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

Fuck.

I dart my gaze toward the kitchen door. This time, Seraphine isn’t peeking through the gap. Maybe she’s learned her lesson about following orders.

“Take your finger off the camera lens,” I say.

The woman doesn’t answer, hopefully not because she’s calling the cops, and I glance at the app to find a petite girl with features similar to Rosalind.

She’s not much taller than Seraphine and wears a sweatshirt that says Tourgis Academy. After checking through the camera app that there’s no one else in the hallway, I open the door a crack and resist the urge to pull her inside.

I promised Seraphine that no one would enter this apartment without her permission.

The girl rushes at me. “Where’s my sister?”

“I don’t have her.” I hold her back with my arm. “Try looking for her somewhere else.”

“Don’t lie to me. Rosa texted me a few nights ago from the Phoenix, saying she was going back to your apartment.”

My lips tighten. It’s awfully presumptuous of Rosalind to assume I would take her back after the bullshit she pulled at my doorstep. Even more audacious that she thought I would choose her over Seraphine.

I would slam the door in this girl’s face, but I don’t need the extra attention from the police. She looks young, excitable, and exactly the type who would cry to the cops if I grabbed her by the throat with a warning never to return.

Fucking Rosalind. Her pregnancy stunt had been bad enough. Now, she’s sharing my home address with her next of kin.

“Your sister isn’t here. She never was.”

The girl’s face crumples. “Then where is she?”

“Retrace her steps. Find out where she was when you last heard from her and start from there.”

She shuffles on her feet, gazing up at me like I have more answers. And she’d be right. The last person I saw her with was Cesare, but I’m not about to throw my cousin under the police bus.

“That’s the best I can give you,” I say. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. My girlfriend and I are about to have breakfast.”

The girl’s gaze drops, and she rubs the back of her neck. “Are you sure that’s all you know?”

I exhale a sharp breath, mostly out of frustration.

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