Rosette's POV
I stepped into my office on Monday morning and froze in the doorway.
The entire space was filled with two dozen black roses arranged in elegant vases across my desk, the side table, and even the windowsill. Their dark, velvety petals looked almost dangerous in the morning light. The rich, intoxicating scent filled the air immediately.
On my desk sat a single cream-colored envelope with my name written in Andrew’s strong, unmistakable handwriting.
My hands trembled slightly as I opened it.
“Last night was only the beginning. You belong to me, Rosette. — Andrew”
I sank into my chair, heart pounding. The flowers were beautiful, but they felt like a declaration of ownership more than a romantic gesture. Before I could process it, voices drifted in from the hallway.
“…did y
