Blood for my Rose |• Crimson Rose series✔️

Chapter 30

Switzerland
Zurich

This particular moment was worthy of a symphonic melodrama, if it was even considered beautiful by either of both parties that were figurative actors, anyway.

Rose ran out of the arcade, not sure she could keep up with Mauricio and his unbridled desires...in this house.  She was almost in tears as she found the car trunk and placed her hand on it to prop herself from falling. She'd kicked the cobblestone that lined the driveway.

Joining her in her dysfunctional state, Mauricio looked at her bloodshot eyes and was lured to taking her worries away. "I'm sorry." He was apologizing for his wildfire ardor that he had no doubt had been tensioning the crap out of her the entire time his father had been away from town.

Five minutes ago, in the cool and soothing atmosphere of the arcade, when Rose stared at the customary painting - that was literally everywhere in the house - like she'd never seen it, Mauricio had placed his fingers in the inner parts of her thighs, tracked her bundle of sensitive nerves and handled it like the virile man that he was. And she'd managed to resist him like the fifteen other times - if she was still counting - she'd done it in the course of twelve days, after Rocco had categorically told Mauricio to stay off her while he was gone. He even had a watchdog examining closely their every move. But she was busy upstairs right now.

Rose, lifting her gaze, shook her head under the blue floodlights that casted its beam upon the compound. "Don't apologize. You don't need to." She shrugged as she realized that her urgent need for his touch was upsetting her more than this unbridled desire she'd spoken about earlier. "Maybe I'm just jealous."

"Of what?"

"The lady in there?" She admitted and was too ashamed to look Mauricio in the eyes. To see his reaction, even though a slight chuckle escaped his throat.

"Josephine Montreal?" He attempted clarifying, because maybe if it were somebody else, he'd understand why she'd be jealous. "The lady is a known slut in the business. I don't even notice her in the house."

"Is that so?"

He scoffed. "Look Rose. Like my father said, she'd be here to watch the whorehouse in his absence. But we both know she's here to make sure I don't do anything with you, because I can watch the whorehouse on my own..."

"You don't notice her but I see the way she looks at you"—her fists looked like they'd punch the freaking air if they weren't held in the next minute—"the way she looks at you like she would fuck you any minute from her last glance fucking irks me."

Mauricio smiled and held her arms, though they rejected him for a while. He was now looking down into her eyes. "She can fuck me in her head all she wants," he deadpanned like he wasn't smiling a second ago. "At the same time, I'm just here figuring how to get you off your high devoted-to-my-fiancé chair." He walked her slowly to the drywall of the building as she, not just flustered, but quailed before him.

Her flirty dress seemed to work against her as it allied with the wind and exposed her thighs. Mauricio was still staring strongly at her pupils like he could see it dilate in the dark.

She gasped and met the wall, giving up the fight to be out of his cage. The same one he always put her in—against the wall.

His voice was warm, and his words came out almost with the same tone as the quiet night. "Why make me look so incapable of getting you back?"