Blood for my Rose |• Crimson Rose series✔️

Chapter 8

It was an eerily quiet grey room, barely spacious enough to breathe into, with a prison sized bed, reasonably huge desk and a sliding closet adjacent to the desk which faced the only window in the room. A window which was Riley's vantage point to see the main building of Rose's house.

A punching bag dangled from the ceiling, he didn't know who had it or why it was in this room, he just fisted it with anger and hate and frustration. He was all sweaty and exhausted but he couldn't stop. Actually, he wouldn't stop. He saw only one face as he struck the punching bag and groaned heavily. It was the face of the arrogant bastard Giovani, and he wished every blow met him wherever he was.

His hands were numbing, his shoulders started to feel heavier and his throat dry. There was a bottle of water across the room on the desk, but he wouldn't stop punching the damn bag and grab the bottle. He wanted to remain angry, to have every reason to feel like killing Giovani, and with each time he punched and his fists ached, he felt more satisfied and eager to do it again. It was like the story of an addict: you know it kills you just as much as it pleases you, but would rather die pleased than remain alive and yearn for it.

When he felt like he could no longer catch his breath, he ran his vigorous fingers over his spiky skull and yelled at the punching bag. He pushed the bag and didn't smash it when it came back to meet him. He ran to the bottle of water and snatched it immediately, throwing the content down his throat without pause. At some point during swallowing, he tried to breathe, triggering an endless cough until he retched, and then the whole thing came surging out of his throat.

Training his breathing, he fell on both knees, and finally flat out on his back. Then he began to stare at the punching bag roll back and forth.

Riley thought of the place like a house of recalcitrant adults; where they all acted in accordance with boss—Bunicci. He didn't know if Rose being in there killed him more than the thought of a life without her if he eventually left the next day. But one thing was concerning—men dressed in dark clothes with dark hair and with cold stares had been going in and out of the house, which was all riveting and frightening.

It seemed so strange to him and he started to doubt Rose had been truthful about her family's business. He had asked her on multiple occasions what they did, because the way she portrayed her family never seemed to match the business she had always claimed they were involved in. People who made wine wore bright colored clothes, they looked cheerful and friendly, it was nothing compared to the men they had as guests all afternoon, neither did Bunicci, Giovani, Enzo and rest dress and look like they knew anything about wine.

Realizing this, Riley, at some point was more determined to prove himself right. He'd left the quarters and roamed the compound briefly, but found nothing. Really, what did he think? If it was what he really thought, then he wasn't going to find any evidence laying carelessly around the compound. He'd seen a garden of Rosemaries, and in spite of how terrible he was feeling, he blushed, knowing she was named after them or they were grown because of her. But it hadn't stopped him from wondering why there were no signs of a vineyard or even a wine bottle.

He was still staring at the punching bag that was no longer rolling when he heard a hard knock on the door. The person didn't even wait for a response, they forced the door open and marched in.

"The lady asked me to call you for dinner," a female voice said. It was the housekeeper and she had a napkin in her hands.

Riley took his eyes off her and managed. "I'll be out in a minute." The news didn't excite him at all, he felt his stomach contract and then twist into a knot.

He waited for the housekeeper to leave before he attempted standing up. He then cleared his mess, showered, got ready and made the longest humdrum walk of his life.