Blood for my Rose |• Crimson Rose series✔️

Chapter 20

Switzerland
Zurich

The elegant decor of the house created an exquisitely imperial ambiance. A mixture of dark brown, cream and chestnut vivid colors of paintings and arts, the giant glass walls, the tiled ceiling and exotic chandelier that dropped from the high-up plafond were notable features. Rosewood furnitures complemented the black drapings. And the Guernica Painting by Pablo Picasso took a huge spot on the wall adjacent to Mauricio's favorite spot in the house—the mini bar.

"Do you ever stop staring at that picture?" Mauricio scoffed as he strode down to his favorite blonde. "You're just like my father." He made a fuss.

His hot piece didn't take even a tiny glimpse of him, instead, she continued to look askance at the painting. "Why does Sandoval keep this painting everywhere?" She asked, sincerely eager to know.

"Rosemarie," Mauricio stated with so much familiarity to convince anyone that they've known each other for ages.

"It's just Rose..." She rolled her eyes and faced the uninvited man that stood over her, hating that he'd come to ruin her mood. "...to you."

There was a hint of laughter in his eyes as he said, "either ways, Rosa. My father has a pathological obsession with the painting for reasons very unknown to me, just as why he decided to let you stay in this house instead of the whore house that you belon-"

"Let's say I'm pretty refined for all that crap," Rose inserted. "I know you don't like to hear it, but I hold a unique place in your father's heart."

Heat ran through Mauricio's face as the words hit him. He almost cringed. "My father doesn't just know what to do with you yet." He defended, trying to hide it, though covetousness was written all over him.

"Spare me." Ross served him an eye roll. She apparently loved seeing the look on Mauricio's face—the look of jealousy with a pinch of spite—whenever she spoke about his father's desires for her. "I've been here for two weeks. Please, tell me he has not had one whole minute to himself to decide what he wants to do to me." She picked her glass of punch and sipped through the straw, Mauricio watching her blood-red lips do it seductively. "Perhaps he wants to make me his little whore, which will be very pathetic of him, knowing he's just a few years younger than my father."

"What my father does doesn't concern me." Mauricio attempted to appear indifferent, but he was unconvincing in his demeanor.

"It doesn't?" Rose tsk'd. "I hate liars." Dropping her drink back on the table, she placed her eyes on Mauricio's and folded her arms over her chest as she slouched on the bar chair. "Now, tell me something," she began. "Isn't it sickening to know that your father killed a random girl that he presumed looked like me, took her identity away by scaring her face, placed her in a pool of blood with my ring around her finger, and left her there for people to think I'm dead while he takes a whole week to decide if he wants to sell me or have me kneel and suck his cock all day?"

Now out of countenance, Mauricio exhaled deeply and interrupted, "my father didn't do anything, he was here in Zurich."

"Not the point. Doing something by yourself and having someone else do it is the same thing in different grammars."

The room would have been utterly quiet now if the television across the hall wasn't playing a live broadcast.

Rose was staring at Mauricio with built up irritation. While he was stupidly loving everything about her. The annoying thing was, she could read him clearly and she hated what she learned. "You do realize I'm engaged to someone, don't you?"