Curse of Rose de Winter

Chapter 31

I realized a long long ago I was imprisoned under my own chains of what happiness really was. I told myself I was happy as men doted on me, giving me dresses and taking me out to dinners—most of all, money. When Auguste de Winter slowly found me customers all I was glad was that I wasn't pimped out and most nights ended with a kiss and hug.

Now as I stared at Dylan's face I thought of being Rose. Was I really happy then? I only ever had Leroy or the mysterious man who always put flowers by the lakeside to entertain me and my imagination. My marriage, true love, being anyone but Rosemarie who was eternally fifteen.

Dylan looked up at me and seemed wary.

"Why are you standing there like that? You can sit," he said as he gestured to a chair. I thought over it for a while.

"Is Sal Mazzanti that important?"

"I'll protect you," he repeated, but this time with a strange confidence. "Hughes is here too, as well as Vaughn. He really means good for you, although he's always yapping away like that."

"He was mentioned in the will—isn't it strange? I have to marry soon, don't I?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

"I think Leroy is showing enough interest." He was suddenly looking at the papers on his desk again. I felt like holding his face up to stop avoiding it.

We both were avoiding it.

God, I loved him. It was insane how much it hurt seeing him tell me to marry, to deny what we both felt. How vulnerable we both were to only one another. The treehouse.

"Weren't you against us?"

"What? No, not particularly. I just happened to follow you with Vaughn that day because we didn't have plans."

"But you—you said you didn't not reciprocate my feelings!" My face flamed.

"What feelings?"

"God!" I shouted in a whisper, my thoughts overlapping to the point I knew I looked crazy. "Dylan, just say it! What do you want of me?"

"What do you want me to say?" he snapped back sharply, making me tilt my head in anger.

"What? I asked you, why can't you answer anything? It's always question after question—and you dragged me into this!"

He stopped because I was correct, then cleared his throat. "I told you, I care for you. Take it as you want."

"I'm only a pawn to you!"

I finally began to sob, making Dylan stand up and hastily pat my back then my shoulder in the least comfortable way alive. He was so damn awkward!

"I really care for you. I regret what we forced you to do—but you make me feel conflicted when you laugh with Leroy."

"I say everything to make Vaughn satisfied!" I cried.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Rosemarie." He was awkwardly trying to comfort me as I cried.

Men are stupid, but it was true that tears made them weak and finally address important matters.

"I'll marry Leroy then—"

"No!"

Dylan looked at me, aghast as though he hadn't hinted for it.

I wiped my tears and glared at him. "Make up your mind for real, I'll marry if you tell me to, and forget about you."

Then he leaned down, looking up at me and then holding my hands in my lap.

"I know you are legally my sister now, but I know you aren't. I want to hold your hair and face—even if you scold me for that. I missed you when Leroy took you for the dance, and I only looked at you."