Chapter 6 — The Rose 🌹
1065 Words
The rose sat on Elena’s pillow like a warning. Crimson petals against ivory silk, a splash of color that seemed almost mocking.
Elena froze in the doorway of the guest room, her heart racing. The staff wouldn’t dare leave something so personal without permission. Which meant someone had entered her room deliberately.
Her first thought was Alexander. But she quickly dismissed it. The man barely tolerated holding her hand in public. He wouldn’t suddenly turn into a secret romantic.
Then who?
Sophia’s mocking smile flashed through her mind.
Her fingers itched to throw the flower away, but instead, she picked it up carefully, as though it might bite. The scent was rich, cloying. Too intimate.
She placed it on the nightstand and stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
---
She found Alexander in his study, his suit jacket tossed over the armchair, sleeves rolled up, forearms tense as he typed furiously on his laptop.
He didn’t look up when she entered. “You’re supposed to knock.”
“I’m your wife, not your secretary,” she snapped.
That got his attention. His storm-gray eyes flicked up, narrowing at her tone. “What is it?”
“This.” Elena held up the rose like evidence in a trial. “Did you leave this in my room?”
His brows lifted, genuine confusion crossing his features. “No.”
“Then who did?”
Alexander leaned back, studying her. “Why does it matter?”
“Because someone entered my room. Someone who wanted me to find this.” Her voice rose with frustration. “Do you realize how unsettling that is?”
His jaw tightened, the easy dismissal gone. He stood, crossing the room in two strides until he loomed over her. “Where exactly did you find it?”
“On my pillow.”
Alexander’s expression darkened. He plucked the rose from her hand and crushed the stem between his fingers, the petals trembling. “You’re saying someone entered this house without my knowledge?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Elena shot back. “But if this is some kind of twisted game—”
He cut her off sharply. “I don’t play games.”
For a long moment, they glared at each other, the air thick with tension.
Finally, Alexander’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Stay in my sight during the next gala. No wandering off alone. No exceptions.”
Elena bristled. “So I’m a prisoner now?”
“You’re my wife,” he said coldly. “And whether you like it or not, that makes you a target.”
The intensity in his eyes made her pulse stumble. For the first time, she realized he wasn’t just being controlling—he was worried.
She didn’t know what unsettled her more: the possibility that Sophia was behind the rose… or the thought that Alexander might actually care.
---
Two nights later, the gala at the Harrington Hotel was even grander than the last. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, the champagne flowed endlessly, and the whispers followed Elena everywhere she went.
She clung to Alexander’s arm as instructed, her gown a midnight blue that hugged her figure. The stares of envy and disdain prickled her skin, but she kept her chin lifted.
Sophia appeared, of course. She was radiant in a scarlet dress, her beauty almost weaponized.
“Elena,” she greeted sweetly, though her eyes burned with challenge. “You look… brave tonight.”
Alexander’s hand tightened at Elena’s waist, a silent warning not to engage. But Elena’s pride flared.
“Brave is what you call it?” Elena smiled thinly. “Funny. I was going to say the same about you. It takes courage to keep chasing a man who doesn’t want you.”
The surrounding guests gasped softly, delighting in the drama.
Sophia’s mask cracked, but she recovered quickly, turning to Alexander with a pout. “You never used to let women speak to me that way.”
“That was before I learned the difference between women worth protecting,” Alexander replied smoothly.
Elena’s breath caught. The words weren’t affectionate exactly, but they felt dangerously close.
Sophia’s smile faltered. For once, she had no retort.
---
Later in the evening, Elena slipped into the powder room to catch her breath. She was washing her hands when the door opened—and Sophia walked in.
The room seemed to shrink instantly.
“You think you’ve won something,” Sophia said, her tone sharp now that no one else could hear. “But all you’ve done is tie yourself to a man who will never love you.”
Elena met her gaze in the mirror, forcing her voice steady. “Maybe. But right now, I’m the one standing beside him. That must burn.”
Sophia’s eyes flashed. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Men like Alexander always return to women like me.”
She stalked out, her perfume lingering like smoke.
Elena’s hands trembled, but she squared her shoulders and returned to the ballroom.
---
The night stretched on, filled with introductions, forced smiles, and endless whispers. By the time the gala ended, Elena was drained.
In the car, she slumped against the seat, her gown heavy, her heart heavier.
Alexander studied her in silence for a long while. Then he spoke, his voice softer than she’d ever heard. “You held your ground tonight.”
She turned to him, startled. “You noticed?”
His lips twitched, almost a smile. “I notice everything.”
Heat flushed her cheeks, but she looked away. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for myself.”
“Good,” he said simply.
The silence that followed was different this time—not cold, but charged, filled with something neither dared name.
---
Back at the mansion, Elena entered her room cautiously, half-expecting another rose. But the pillow was empty, the sheets untouched.
Relief washed over her, followed swiftly by unease.
Because deep down, she knew this wasn’t over. Whoever left the first rose wasn’t finished.
And Alexander…?
He was becoming more dangerous to her heart than Sophia ever could be.
---
The next morning, Elena wakes to find a note slipped under her door. Just five words, written in elegant script:
“He will never be yours.”
---
- Writer
