When a drunken night out leads to Rose Delacour meeting the mysterious American Mafia Boss, Clecentine Huxley, she can't help but give in to her beauty and charms.
Young and carefree Rose Delacour didn't expect her night out at the bar to result in...
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''Would you look at this?'' I scrambled towards Clecentine with my phone in my hand.
''What is it?'' She tore her eyes away from the torn skirt she was sewing and put it aside along with the thread and needle.
Her hands cupped around my phone as she looked down at the photo. ''It's beautiful, isn't it?'' I smiled at her, scrolling the pictures further to show her every angle.
They were professionally captured photos of a beautiful model dressed in an expensive Christian Dior gown, a rhinestone clip adorning her raven hair and a pearl necklace around her mocha skin. It was a photoshoot of her enjoying a candlelight dinner in a beautiful garden - one you would see in fairytales - surrounded by rose petals and fairy lights acting as the only source of light to illuminate the entire scene.
Clecentine must have noticed the way my eyes shined in adoration as I scrolled through all the photos like an excited child high on sugar because she held my jaw softly in her fingers and made me face her.
''You want this?''
''Wh-what?'' I sputtered, utterly baffled. She couldn't possibly be thinking of doing it all just for me.
''I know you do Rose. I know that you're the kind of person who lives in the world of candlelight dinners and soft music.''
I opened my mouth to say otherwise but she beat to it. ''Love, you read Bridgerton, Pride and Prejudice, The Duchess and the stable boy, and all the other romantic historical books you know of.''
I couldn't argue with solid evidence. It was true, every word. A romantic dinner like that was something I had dreamt of ever since I read my first book at the age of eleven, hoping someone would show me all of it. Back then I had expected it to be a man, but at the age of thirteen, I found out it could be either gender.
''So, you're trying to tell me that,'' I gulped and looked away from her eyes before continuing, ''you will do this for me?''
''Without question. You deserve this and more.'' Then she took my skirt and went back to stitching it.
''Okay. Well then. The chefs can make some food and you could probably ask Walter to-"
''Love, I'll be doing it all on my own.'' She said without looking up as if it was nothing.
I opened my mouth again, ready to reject profusely but I was interrupted when she got up and held my black skirt in the air, examining it from every angle before she placed it in my hands, ''Everyone deserves some special treatment. You gave me mine and now I'll give you yours.''
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