Red Roses and Secrets
1042 Words
Chapter 3: Red Roses and Secrets
The penthouse was colder than Elena expected—not in temperature, but in atmosphere.
Marble floors stretched like frozen glass, reflecting the soft overhead lights in sterile white. High ceilings loomed above her, tall enough to drown out any echo of comfort. Floor-to-ceiling windows gave a stunning view of the city, its lights glittering like stars. But even that beauty felt distant. Untouchable.
There were no photos. No art. No warmth.
Just sleek, expensive perfection.
And just like the man who owned it—Elian Frost—every corner seemed carefully curated to repel emotion.
Elena stepped inside, dragging her suitcase behind her, the soft click of her heels the only sound. Her breath caught as she took it all in. This was supposed to be her home now? For the next year?
She couldn’t help but feel like she had walked into a cage made of glass and ice.
“You’re late,” Elian’s voice cut through the silence—sharp and low.
She looked up.
He was lounging on a leather chair in the center of the living area, dark-suited and pristine, with his legs crossed and a tablet in hand. He didn’t even look at her.
“It’s 9:02,” Elena said.
He tapped the screen once, then set the tablet down. “Still late.”
Elena pressed her lips together to stop the retort forming in her throat. Breathe. Smile. Survive. Just one year.
Elian stood and walked toward her, the crisp sound of his footsteps echoing off the marble. His presence filled the space like frost creeping along a window—silent but undeniable.
“The guest room is down the hall,” he said. “You’ll find everything you need there.”
“Guest room?” she asked, lifting a brow.
“This isn’t a honeymoon, Elena,” he replied, tone clipped. “Let’s not pretend it is.”
Elena swallowed the sting behind his words. She’d signed the contract. She knew the rules. But hearing it out loud, in this hollow palace, made it all too real.
“Right,” she muttered. “Of course.”
Elian turned without another word, already done with the conversation. He moved back to the living room, his back straight, unreadable. Like she was just another piece of furniture being delivered.
She was about to follow his direction to the guest room when something caught her eye.
Near the front door, on a small glass table, stood a single red rose in a crystal vase.
She froze.
It was fresh—full bloom, deep crimson, delicate. The soft glow from the chandelier made its petals look almost velvet. It stood out starkly in the minimalist room, the only touch of color in a world of cold grays and whites.
It didn’t fit.
Elena slowly approached it, frowning. There was no note. No card. Nothing to explain its presence.
She turned back toward Elian, who had picked up his tablet again.
“Who brought the rose?” she asked.
He didn’t look up. “That’s none of your concern.”
“But it’s in your house.”
He tapped the screen once more. “So are you.”
Elena flinched.
“And I don’t question that every day,” he added without emotion.
Silence fell between them.
She wanted to ask more—Who sent it? Why only one?—but something in his posture warned her not to push.
Instead, she turned and wheeled her suitcase down the hall. The hallway was dimly lit, lined with closed doors that whispered secrets she wasn’t allowed to know. At the end, she found the guest room.
It was beautiful, of course. Pristine. White walls, a queen-sized bed, a modern vanity, floor-to-ceiling curtains. The sheets smelled like nothing—neither comforting nor familiar. Just clean. Empty.
She sat down on the bed, letting out a long breath.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a message from Nurse Jenna. “Your mom’s stable today. The new room is helping. They’re starting light rehab next week. She asked about you.”
Elena smiled, her heart warming for the first time all day. “Tell her I love her. I’ll visit soon.”
She stared at the screen for a few seconds longer, then set it down.
This is why I’m here.
This is why I signed that contract.
But no amount of justification could quiet the ache inside her. She hadn’t expected a fairytale, but this... this was ice.
Back in the hallway, she peeked again toward the living room.
The rose still stood there.
Taunting her.
She walked back out slowly. Elian was gone now—his tablet left on the armrest, but no sign of him.
She approached the rose again, studying it more closely. The vase was crystal, clearly expensive. The rose was freshly cut. Not store-bought, at least not from just any florist. The stem was long and clean, no thorns.
This wasn’t an accident. Someone had placed it there carefully.
But who? And why?
She had a strange feeling that the rose wasn’t meant for her.
Her heart sank a little. Could it be from someone else? Someone he actually cares about?
The thought shouldn’t bother her—it wasn’t like they were in love. Or even pretending to be. But the way the rose sat there... it felt intimate. Personal. A symbol.
Just then, a voice came from behind her. “Don’t touch it.”
She jumped.
Elian stood near the hallway now, watching her. His face unreadable.
“I wasn’t—” she began.
His tone softened only slightly. “It’s not for you.”
Elena stiffened. “Then who is it for?”
A pause.
He looked at the rose, his jaw tightening. “That’s not something I care to explain.”
Elena nodded slowly, backing away. “Right. No questions. I remember.”
She walked past him without another word, retreating to her room.
But even as the door closed behind her, her mind stayed on that single red rose.
A flower shouldn’t have meaning. But in a place like this, in a life like this, it did.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what secrets it kept.
- Writer
