Cesare’s Point of View~~~
I stood perfectly still, as I always did. Hands tucked into the pockets of my tailored navy fit suit, my jaw clenched in a habit I’d never quite broken.
I was supposed to press a button to the floor I was heading to but I was waiting.
I didn’t know for what until I heard her voice. You see, Rose? That's what I call fate.
I froze. Every muscle locked tight as if my body recognized her before my mind caught up.
Her voice was low but firm, carrying command even though it was quiet. The kind of voice that never begged, only demanded, even when she didn’t mean to.
The same voice I've dreamt of demanding for me to ruin her as she spreads for me, right beneath me. And I will someday.
“Close the deal on my terms, not theirs. If they don’t want it, walk away.”
I could hear her as she approached. Her tone was calm but bold. I raised my head slightly, and there she was.
Rosette Jenner.
She walked toward the elevator with the grace of someone who knew exactly who she was and what she wanted.
Her black crepe gown clung to her like it had been tailored for her alone—elegant but sexy as hell. It gave off the beauty of her body with every step.
She didn’t glance at me. She hadn’t even looked up, hadn’t even paused, as if I was invisible.
My eyes dragged over her against my will. They memorized every inch the way they always had.
Her long dark brown hair tumbled down her back in pretty waves, catching the light like silk.
Her shoulders were bare, smooth and small, yet squared with the quiet confidence of someone untouchable.
Then her face. God, that face. Every detail of it is encrypted into my brain.
Heart-shaped, with high cheekbones dusted with the faintest pink glow from the cold outside.
Long lashes fanned over her cheeks like crescent moons, fluttering every now and then as she blinked at her phone screen.
She still had that softness, the kind that had drawn me in years ago before I even understood why.
But it was her mouth that made saliva fill my mouth and made my hands curl into fists at my sides.
Her lips were painted in the color of ripe cherries and they moved as she spoke into the phone, forming words I wasn’t even listening to anymore.
One taste would never be enough.
I knew it then and I had known it years ago when I saw her for the first time.
I clenched my jaw until it ached.
And then her scent hit me—vanilla and sugar.
The same scent from college, the one that had haunted me for years after I met her.
At some point I couldn't live without it. That's why I became her nemesis. Since I didn't have her heart and might scare her off if I lurked around, I found an alternative. I became the opposite of what Blake was to her.
The thought alone nearly made me laugh, bitter and amused at myself.
Hate? That’s what she thought. That’s what I’d let her believe.
She probably still hated me more than anyone else in the world. She probably thought I felt the same.
If only she knew.
I shifted my weight slightly, keeping my expression neutral as she stepped into the elevator, still focused entirely on her phone. The doors began to close, but I couldn’t take it anymore.
I needed her to look at me.
I needed to see that fire in her eyes—the same fire that used to flare whenever we argued, whenever I teased her just to get a reaction. That old hatred. I wanted to drink it in, savor it, because it was better than the nothing she was giving me now.
I wanted her attention on me. Just like it had been back then, when I was the only one who could rattle her.
My fingers twitched at my sides. My heart kicked against my ribs.
And then I spoke.
“Rose.”
The name left my mouth like a claim. Not Rosette but Rose. The name I’d given her and made sure only I called her that.
Goosebumps rose on her small shoulders instantly, and I felt a dark satisfaction curl in my chest.
Her body remembered me, even if her mind wished it didn’t.
Slowly, she turned and those violet eyes of hers met mine.
But I was wrong.
It wasn’t the old flame of hatred I’d expected. Not anger. Not disgust as back in the days.
It was surprise and confusion.
“Cesare Llewellyn?” she said but more like a question to herself. Her voice was steady but softer than I remembered.
I smirked, the corner of my mouth tilting in that way that used to infuriate her. The way I knew would still get under her skin eventually.
“It’s been forever, hasn't it, Rose?”
Her brows knit slightly, her violet eyes narrowing as she stared.
She looked at me differently this time. As if she’d learned too many lessons in the time we’d been apart.
But she was still her. The same woman who had ruined me without even trying.
And I didn't mind if the way she looked at me had changed. In fact I'm good with this new one.
I'm mesmerised with the way her brows are knitted and her lashes are low while her eyes narrow.
I wonder what look she'll have on when I'm exploring every part of her. Her t**s, her neck, her thighs and in between them.
Would her eyes roll back? Would she pin her bottom lip with her teeth? Would her body flush with the same colour as her cheeks?
“Yes it certainly has been long,” she said finally, slipping her phone into her purse, “I remember you making it clear you never wanted to see me again the last time we spoke.”
The smirk widened, though my chest tightened at her words. If only she knew how many times I’ve actually seen her since that time.
I watch you, Rose. All the time.
“I say a lot of things I don’t mean,” I replied smoothly.
Her eyes flicked over me, quick and assessing, before she turned away slightly, pressing the elevator button for her floor.
“Why are you back in New York? Last I remember from Eight years ago, you left the country.” She had her back to me again.
“There's someone I badly needed to meet.”
“I can't say it's nice meeting you but good thing you're not dead,” she said flatly.
Sweet. You still hold grudges. Just what I wanted.
I let her words roll over me as my gaze lingered on her profile. She thought she could dismiss me that easily?
She was wrong.
The elevator hummed again, and the silence stretched between us, thick with everything unspoken.
I let it last only a moment longer before I stepped closer—close enough that her scent wrapped around me again.
I could feel the tension in her small frame as her back hit the cold wall and she stiffened at my proximity.