Rose stepped into the suite after knocking a few times and receiving no answer. The moment she pushed the door open, she found the room empty, silent, and without the slightest trace of another soul, yet she did not allow herself to wonder why because that was not her business to mind. She walked across the wide floor, carrying the tray carefully in her hands, and when she reached the table at the center, she placed the bottle of wine there without making a sound. She then turned almost immediately, her only intention being to leave as quickly as possible before anything distracted her from her task.
She had nearly reached the door when it opened suddenly from the outside, forcing her steps to halt and her eyes to lift, her body stiffening in alertness. Rose's hands pressed tightly against the tray she was still holding as though the metal could serve as some kind of shield, then fixed her gaze directly on the person who had entered. When she finally saw his face clearly, a mild flash of surprise flickered in her eyes, though only for a moment, because she recognized him instantly as the man from the previous night. The one who had kept that annoyingly confident grin as though the entire world amused him.
Rose did not let her surprise linger, for she composed herself almost instantly, drawing her expression into calmness and lowering her eyes to the floor rather than continuing to stare at him. She listened closely to his approaching steps as they echoed softly against the carpeted floor until he stopped directly in front of her. Every nerve in her body tightened because Rose hated such closeness, especially with strangers, and she could only hope he would not attempt anything foolish, otherwise she would be forced into a situation far more dangerous than she wanted.
The silence stretched for a moment before his voice came, smooth but laced with familiarity, as he said, "I wonder if you remember me."
Rose frowned lightly at the question because it sounded strangely familiar in her ears, though she did not waste time wondering where she had heard it before. Instead, she pushed the thought aside and replied in her usual calm and low tone, "Yes, sir. And I'm sorry about last night."
Declan, tilted his head slightly as though to scrutinize her, his eyes running slowly over the woman standing so rigidly before him. After a brief pause he stepped aside, dropping himself onto the couch nearby as if the place belonged to him completely.
Rose did not turn to look at him, but her teeth pressed so hard together that she thought they might crack, for all she wanted was to leave. And just as her foot shifted toward the door, his voice reached her again.
"Would you mind joining me… Rose?"
Her entire body froze at the sound of her name, her mind halting for an instant as she asked herself silently when her name had become so popular within this place. Then she recalled clearly two nights ago, when a certain flirtatious guest had called her name too loudly in front of his companions, and she realized this man sitting here had been among them, so it was not surprising he knew her identity.
With that thought she gathered herself again and answered in a voice steady yet firm, "I can't do that, sir. I'd be breaking the rules."
Declan, leaning back casually on the couch, let out a light laugh that seemed to dismiss her words as though they carried no weight, and then he said, "No worries, dear. Club Del Amore belongs to my brother, so no one will dare say a word to you."
At that, Rose felt the beginnings of anger rising in her chest, for she wondered bitterly why it was that whenever she stepped into this suite she ended up speaking more than she wished. It was now the third time she found herself dragged into conversations she had no interest in, and she knew it certainly would not be the last. She drew a quiet breath and turned respectfully yet confidently to face him, her eyes sharp but her voice controlled, "Rules are rules."
Declan smirked, his lips curling in amusement, though the expression did not reach his eyes, and he leaned forward a little before saying again, "No one has to know."
Rose gave him no answer this time, remaining silent with her face calm.
Declan's gaze shifted, filling slowly with a dark, degrading intent that revealed itself more clearly the longer the silence lasted. To him it seemed as though the woman was falling into the trap he laid, and so he added with his voice dropping lower, "Just consensual fun. What do you think? You can ask for anything you want in return."
Still Rose remained silent, though the quiet only seemed to stir Declan's thoughts into greater arrogance. The smirk on his lips slipped away, replaced instead by a mocking gaze as his mind twisted with resentment, and inwardly he told himself bitterly, 'You don't deserve my brother.'
He rose slowly from the couch then, and he began to walk toward her. Though Rose kept her back straight and her eyes steady, she did not turn her body. Declan came closer and closer until there was barely a hand's breadth left between them.
Then he leaned his head near her ear and whispered, "I'll take your silence as yes."
His hand lifted and with deliberate boldness he began to trace along her arm, starting from the bottom and sliding slowly upward. His eyes had already hardened into a cold, emotionless glare. The admiration he had once felt for her during their first meeting had turned entirely into disgust.
Declan was too absorbed in his own thoughts, too sure of his dominance, to notice the fast movement of Rose's arm.
Her right hand gripped one edge of the tray tightly, and with a sudden full swing she brought it across in a swift arc that landed with a loud thud against the side of Declan's head, making him stagger back several steps in shock. Rose did not stop there. Before he could even recover, she swung again with equal force, striking the other side of his head, and then dropped the tray to the floor with a sharp clang.
The impact jolted Declan back into reality, and when his eyes lifted to meet the woman standing before him, he felt something he had not expected. A cold chill slid down his spine as he saw the look in her eyes, for it was the same merciless glare his brother often wore in moments when he was ready to kill, and the weight of that realization struck fear into him.
Rose raised her fist and swung it toward him, yet he managed to evade just in time, stumbling to the side. Her movements were so swift and precise it seemed impossible that she wore heels at all.
Declan barely had time to think, for the woman attacked again and again, each strike carrying deadly intent, and he was forced to use all his strength and reflexes just to dodge them.
The exchange went on for what felt like a full minute, with her blows relentless. His evasions were desperate, until at last she drove him backward step by step, cornering him against the wall.
Rose's eyes were cold. Her face was set in grim focus, and her sanity seemed to have slipped away as she pressed him there, her hand closing around his throat with such force that her intent became crystal clear: she meant to kill him.
Declan's face turned pale as her grip tightened, cutting the air from his lungs, and no matter how he struggled to fight her off, she always seemed one step ahead. Her strength was far greater than he had imagined. His vision began to darken, and just before unconsciousness could claim him, the sound of the suite door opening again echoed through the room as someone else entered.
*****
"The roses wilted, soaked in the red of yesterday's sins. The floor was stained, but not as much as my conscience."