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Passion and Rose
Chapter Six
The night was heavy with rain, thunder rumbling in the distance as Adrian stood in his study, Selene's voice soft and persuasive behind him.
"You're destroying yourself, Adrian," Selene said, her arms folded as she leaned against the carved mantel. "Why must you chain your life to that girl? She doesn't love you. You see it, don't you? The way she looks at Nicholas Hale. Her eyes don't shine for you. They shine for him."
Adrian didn't turn. He stared out at the storm, his reflection a dark silhouette in the glass.
Selene pressed on, her voice low, almost pleading. "You are Adrian Veylor. You could have anyone. You could have me. But instead you torture yourself with a child who only burns for another. Let her go, Adrian. Before she ruins you."
At last, he looked at her. His eyes were cold steel. "She already ruined me years ago."
The words struck Selene like a blade. Her breath caught, her confidence cracking for the briefest moment. She had always known Kailah had his heart. But hearing it in his voice—final, absolute—was a wound she couldn't mask.
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Meanwhile, in the secrecy of her chamber, Kailah clasped Nicholas's hands, her heart racing.
He looked desperate, his hair disheveled, his voice urgent. "Kailah, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't drowning. My father's debts… they'll destroy us. Please, only you can help me. Three million. If I can cover it, my family will be safe."
Her chest tightened. She knew Adrian would be furious if he found out, but Nicholas's pleading eyes, the boyish tremor in his voice—it was too much. She nodded quickly. "I'll get it for you."
By dawn, Nicholas's account glittered with three million.
But by evening, it was gone. Frozen. Seized. Every trace erased.
Nicholas slammed his fist against his desk when the bank called, his face flushing with rage. "Adrian," he muttered, teeth clenched. "He did this. He's watching everything."
Still, he didn't go to Kailah empty-handed. Days later, when he met her secretly, he handed her a sleek black key. "For you," he said with a charming smile.
Kailah's eyes widened as she saw the gleaming new car waiting outside. "Nicholas… how did you—?"
"Don't ask," he interrupted smoothly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Just know that I'd give you the world if I could. You deserve freedom, Kailah. Not chains."
Her heart melted, though doubt lingered in the corners of her mind. She accepted the gift, blind to the way Adrian's men photographed every detail from the shadows.
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And then came the night everyone awaited:
Kailah's 18th birthday.
Her formal engagement to Adrian.
The grand ballroom of the Veylor estate shimmered with chandeliers and gold, filled with nobility, businessmen, dignitaries, and gossiping women in silk gowns. At the center of it all stood Kailah, radiant in a gown of deep red roses, her beauty no longer that of a child but a woman. Yet inside, her heart twisted.
To the world, this was her coronation—stepping into the life Adrian had promised her.
To her, it felt like a cage closing forever.
Adrian entered to a hush, his presence commanding, his gaze falling only on her. He wore black as always, power draped over him like a second skin.
Selene lingered near the orchestra, her eyes narrowing, lips curling in disdain as she whispered to another guest, "Poor girl. She'll never escape him."
Nicholas slipped into the crowd, his eyes hungry as he watched Kailah, the car key still in her purse, the stolen three million still a bitter wound.
And above them all, Adrian stood tall beside Kailah, his hand claiming hers before the watching world. His voice was quiet, dangerous, absolute as he leaned toward her ear.
"Tonight, Rose," he whispered, "you are mine before everyone. Let no one forget it."
Kailah's heart thundered, caught between the two worlds tearing her apart: the ruthless man she feared and the boy she thought she loved.
And as the first toast was raised, she knew:
This night would change everything.
The Veylor ballroom glittered like a palace of dreams. Crystal chandeliers bathed the hall in golden light, polished marble reflected swirling gowns, and laughter mingled with the notes of a string quartet. It was a night to mark history—Kailah Moreau's eighteenth birthday and her formal engagement to Adrian Veylor.
Every guest played their role.
Selene Armand glided among the wealthy wives and daughters, her smile sharp, her eyes always flicking toward Adrian. She leaned into whispers, her words dripping poison. "Look at him, chained to a girl who still blushes like a schoolchild. He deserves more. He deserves a woman."
Nicholas Hale stood in the shadows, his face a mask of charm but his fists clenched in frustration. He watched Kailah, resplendent in her gown, every jewel a reminder of what he couldn't give her. He sipped his wine and told himself it didn't matter—she would come back to him. She always did.
And Aunty Lola, adorned in emerald silk, fanned herself with calculated grace. Her eyes never left Kailah, narrowing with hatred. Every compliment directed at the girl burned like fire in her chest
Kailah, at the center of it all, tried to breathe. The weight of the gown, the jewels, the eyes—too heavy, too suffocating. Adrian stood beside her, tall, unreadable, his presence swallowing the room. His hand rested lightly at her waist, a reminder to the world, and to her, that she belonged to him.
When the glasses were raised for her first toast as a woman, Kailah lifted her crystal flute. Her throat was dry. She sipped—just a little.
But Adrian's gaze was sharper than the glitter of chandeliers. He had seen the subtle exchange, the flicker of a hand at the serving table. His instincts screamed.
He reached out, took the glass from her, and lifted it to his own lips.
The bitterness struck immediately. His eyes darkened.
Drugged.
Kailah frowned, confused. "Adrian—what—"
"Enough," he murmured, his voice low, commanding.
He set the glass down, untouched again, and leaned closer. "You're leaving. Now."
"But the party—"
"I don't care about the party. You'll bathe, you'll rest. I'll take care of this."
Before she could protest, his hand closed firmly around hers, and in front of the stunned guests, Adrian Veylor led his bride-to-be from her own engagement. Murmurs rose like fire behind them, but no one dared to stop him.
Upstairs, in the sanctuary of her chamber, Kailah tried to pull free. "Adrian, you're making a scene—"
His eyes burned, storm-grey and unyielding. "Your drink was poisoned."
Her lips parted in shock. "Poisoned?"
"Drugged, poisoned—call it what you like. Someone wanted you weak, broken. But it touched me instead." He removed his jacket, his composure frighteningly steady. "And I can handle what they gave me. You cannot."
Her breath caught. His control, his certainty—it both terrified and reassured her.
"Go," he ordered softly, almost gently now. "Bathe. Wash it from your skin. No one touches you tonight."
Kailah hesitated, then nodded, retreating toward the adjoining bath. She didn't see the faint strain in his jaw, the way his hands curled as the drug began its slow burn in his veins.
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But someone else did.
Aunty Lola.
She had followed quietly, curiosity pricking like a knife, and now she lingered just far enough to see the faint outlines through the half-open door. Adrian standing like a dark sentinel by the window, Kailah's shadow slipping into the bath chamber.
A wicked smile curled Lola's lips. "So," she whispered to herself, "the little slut has already begun using her charms. Barely eighteen, and she has the great Adrian Veylor wrapped around her finger."
Her laughter was soft, venomous, and filled with the promise of scandal.
What she didn't know was that Adrian had already heard her.
And this time, Lola's poison would not go unanswered.
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Passion and Rose
Chapter Eight
The marble walls of Kailah's bathing chamber gleamed with soft candlelight, the fragrance of rose oils curling through the air. She stood stiffly near the bath, her gown heavy around her, while Adrian leaned against the doorway—towering, dark, and too composed for a man who had swallowed poison moments ago.
Her voice broke the silence first. "Adrian, I can manage by myself."
"No." His tone was flat, final. "You will help me."
Kailah's chest tightened. "You're unwell. You should rest—"
"I said no." His grey eyes locked on hers, sharp as blades. "The drug burns in my veins. My body will fight it, but I need control. I need the cold water to steady me. And you, Kailah—" his voice dropped lower, darker—"you will obey."
Her fists clenched at her sides. "You can't just—force me into this. I'm not your servant."
"You are mine," Adrian answered simply, the words slicing through the fragrant air. "And tonight, the world saw it. You bear my name, my ring, my vow. Even your family gave everything into my hands. You think there's escape, Rose? There isn't. I am your beginning, and I will be your end."
Her throat tightened. She hated how his words stirred something in her chest, a violent mix of fury and fear. She turned her face away. "You're a devil."
He almost smiled. "Then the devil is who you must obey."
Kailah trembled when he stepped past her, his hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. She spun around quickly, staring at the mosaic tiles instead. "I won't do this—"
"You will." His voice had no room for rebellion. "Because you swore when you were five you would marry me. And I have bled, worked, and conquered this world to keep that promise. You tied yourself to me before you even knew what it meant, Kailah. And I have no intention of letting you untie it now."
Her breath came quick, uneven.
The sound of fabric falling to the floor made her close her eyes tight. She had no choice. No strength to resist. Slowly, with trembling hands, she turned, picking up a silver basin and pouring the steaming water into the carved marble tub.
Adrian stepped in without hesitation, the cold sharpness of his movements betraying the fire still raging in his blood. He sank into the water, his jaw rigid, his chest heaving as he fought the drug's poison.
"Kneel." The command was soft, but absolute.
Kailah lowered herself beside the bath, every motion stiff, her heart hammering. She lifted a sponge, dipped it in rosewater, and pressed it against his shoulder. The heat of his skin under her touch made her recoil, but his hand caught hers, forcing her to continue.
"Slower," he murmured, his head leaning back against the edge of the tub. "Not rushed. Like I matter to you."
Her lips parted, outrage choking her. "You don't matter to me. Nothing about you does."
His eyes opened, piercing her with a look that made her stomach twist. "You lie beautifully, Rose. But the truth will come. Even if I have to drag it out of you drop by drop."
Kailah bit her lip, her hand trembling as she moved the sponge across his skin, every stroke a battle between her resistance and his unyielding will.
The silence grew heavier, filled only with the drip of water and the echo of their breathing.
And then Adrian leaned forward, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You will hate me, you will fight me, but you will never leave me. Understand this, Kailah—your family's wealth, your body, your heart, your very breath… all of it is mine."
Her eyes filled with tears she refused to shed. "You'll never have my heart."
His thumb brushed her trembling lip, and his voice was a low growl. "Then I'll break it until only I can put it back together."
The sponge slipped from her hand, splashing into the bath, and Kailah's whole body shook—not from the steam, not from the fear, but from the unbearable truth that the devil she despised had already wrapped her fate in chains.
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