Rose stirred as the first light of morning streamed into the room, her body twitching slightly as she let out a soft groan. She rubbed the side of her neck, which felt sore. Her eyelids fluttered, adjusting slowly to the brightness, and the very first thing her sight landed on was the unfamiliar brown ceiling above her.
Her instincts instantly rose, and she sat up straight on the bed, her hand clenching into a fist without a second thought. Her eyes narrowed as they swept across the surroundings carefully, scanning for any movement or danger. To her right stood an empty couch, a small table placed in front of it, but her attention did not linger there for more than a second. She kept scanning, searching for the presence of another person. And she found one.
Her gaze shifted left, and there on a balcony couch, someone was seated with their back turned toward her. The figure sat still, the posture relaxed, seeming careless but her defense mode was fully activated.
Rose moved quietly, slipping off the bed carefully that her steps made no sound. She crossed the room and reached the glass door of the balcony. Just as she slid it slightly open, the man turned his head faintly, and in that moment, his side profile was revealed.
Rose froze but not for long. Her frown deepened instantly because that profile was far too familiar. Familiar enough that she silently prayed it wasn't who she thought it was. But luck was cruel, and her guess was right.
It was him. The man she never wanted to see gain.
Rose's eyes shut tightly for a moment, but no outward frustration showed on her face. Inside, however, chaos fired up, threatening to spill over. She tried to piece her memory together and tried to recall what had happened before she ended up here. And then it came, the last thing she remembered was her hands around someone's throat.
Her eyes shot open. Trying to keep her tone even, she spoke. "How did I get here?"
She waited but only silence lingered. The man did not even turn to glance at her.
Rose frowned slightly but continued. "I apologize if I caused you any problems. I'll pay for any damage."
Again, there was nothing. The man's silence pressed against her patience, but she willed herself to remain composed.
Finally, she exhaled slowly and turned slightly to leave. "I'll take my leave."
She had barely stepped back when his voice cut through her movement. "How will you pay?"
Rose paused, glancing back at his unmoving form. "How much is the damage?" she asked simply.
Damien Pierce sat gazing into the morning air, a calculative smirk curving at the edge of his lips. His eyes were hollow, yet there was a glint of amusement creeping in.
"You destroyed half of my suite and almost killed my brother. How much do you think that is worth?"
Rose's expression did not falter. She lowered her eyes to her hands, curling her fingers slightly, and she could still feel the ghostly pressure of strangling someone. Strangely, it gave her a trace of satisfaction, a dangerous thrill that many would label as madness if they ever knew.
"I'll take responsibility for the suite," she said calmly, "but as for your brother… I did what I had to do. It isn't my fault."
Damien's smirk stretched wider. His gaze flickered with something close to admiration. This woman was unlike anyone else. She was, in his eyes, the only one worthy of standing beside him.
"Still," he said lazily, "you injured him. As his brother, I have every right to feel offended, don't I? What do you think I should do?"
Rose answered without hesitation. "Whatever you deem fit, as long as it doesn't violate my rights."
Her tone was firm and emotionless, giving no room for argument. She had already pieced it together: this man was the owner of Club Del Amore. Since the first day she had met him, her instincts had screamed danger. Their second encounter had only confirmed her suspicions, branding him a womanizer in her mind, with what he did. Now, after all this, she knew better than to expect fairness from him. If he wanted to fire her, then she would accept it and walk away.
"Then…" his voice slipped through her thoughts, smooth but unsettling, "I have something in mind."
Rose's eyes flicked toward him cautiously. Whatever he had in mind would surely not be good for her. She could feel it.
"It isn't every day someone corners my brother and beats him down. He is highly trained, and for you to have defeated him means your skills are… admirable. I want you to be my personal bodyguard."
Rose blinked once, twice, making sure she wasn't still dreaming. If she could have laughed out loud, she would have. The sheer audacity left her momentarily speechless. Did this man not fear that she might kill him too? She had expected him to mention a highly ridiculous price for her to pay, or even ask her to apologise to his brother, but this? It was unexpected.
"Thank you for the offer," she said at last, her voice cold as usual, "but I'm satisfied with the job I have. And I will pay for the damages I caused."
Without another glance, she turned and walked toward the door. Her steps carried weight, and inside, her resolve tightened. She wanted a simple life. Work, return home and avoid entanglements with wealthy men like him. That had always been her plan. That was the routine she had chosen and had been used to for the last two months. She was not willing to compromise it for anything. Once she paid for the damages, she would quit her job and vanish from this world he lingered in.
***
Back in the room, Damien remained seated. There was a troubling smile still curled on his lips.
"Oh my sweet Rose," he murmured, rising slowly to his feet and straightening his suit jacket.
He strolled to the balcony railing and leaned forward, gazing down as Rose walked out of the hotel. His smile widened, teeth flashing.
"Oh my sweet Rose," he repeated. He closed his eyes as though savoring a fragrance that only he could sense.
From his pocket, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
When the line connected, his gave an order.
"Make sure you don't lose sight of her. Whatever she does, wherever she goes, whoever she meets. I want to know it all."
He ended the call and leaned back, inhaling deeply once, twice, three times, as though the very air she left behind carried her presence.
***
Rose reported to work as though nothing had happened. Her face betrayed no trace of the chaos from the night before. She had already prepared herself mentally, expecting the manager to scold her harshly for disappearing without a word.
Instead, when she walked in, the middle-aged man only looked at her and said gently, "If you have any problem, just ask for permission and not leaving like that."
Rose blinked, stunned. That was all?
She nodded quickly, masking her surprise, but inside, she knew exactly what this meant. The manager was not the type to overlook such behavior, which could only mean he had received instructions from above. And the only person powerful enough to influence such matters was him. The man she never wanted to see again.
Rose carried the order tray to a customer, her thoughts spinning. 'What does he want from me?' she wondered silently.
And deep down, though she refused to say it aloud, she already suspected the answer. 'He's playing womanizer again.'
If that was the case, she could only hope he wouldn't try anything as reckless as his brother. Otherwise, all hell would break loose. She would definitely raise hell on earth and burn herself with him in it.
*****
"Roses have thorns, and she bleeds anyone who dares touch her."