Grey Rose

Rose - 5

- Andrew -

She's asleep. Finally.

I tow the covers over her body, and leave a note for her.

ʀᴏꜱᴇ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ꜱᴏᴏɴ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴꜱ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋꜱ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴋᴇʏꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋ.

- ᴀ.

Then I walk out, to enjoy the festivities.

My father is there, all nice and dapper, like he hadn't set fire to Roseanna's building. He is talking with the old people around his age - Lim Hyunwoo, Yoon Taehyun, and Adeline Gryzlov. But Celeste Auclair is also chatting with him - and her arm is hooked around his arm. Pedophile.

His hawkish yellow eyes spot me, and I am suctioned into the conversation. "Son, didn't you say that you bought a pretty little girl before for 10 million?"

I nod stiffly.

My father looks interested. "Oh? What's her name?"

"Lily Miller." I stare straight ahead.

Father sniffs, as if he smells my lie, but nods in acknowledgement. "I heard from Adeline here that you finger-fucked her today in front of everyone?"

"Why do you care, father? If you really wanted to know you should've been there instead of angering the Tapshaw mafia. I heard she's a real pain in the ass."

He glares at me real hard. And then turns to his companions and acts as if I don't exist.

Fucker.

+

My Rose is still napping. She looks so innocent when she's sleeping. So cute, so pretty.

I stagger to the edge of the bed right next to Rose, and toss my tie, belt, and suit jacket onto the floor. I smell like wine. My head spins, and my vision is very hazy. I crack my neck.

Rose moans loudly, throwing out a hand that lands a slap to my ass. And it stays there.

I am careful to not wake her, but she rolls over, and her chest is pressed against my ass, and her hands are wrapped around my torso, drooping on my boner. Shit.

She moans again, and I have a temptation to strip her naked and fuck her on the spot. Ugh, I thought I was past that hormone stage. Thirty-two year old men shouldn't be getting boners due to a prickly twenty-three year old Tapshaw girl.

"Allons fait l'amour," she mumbles. "J'ai besoin de toi. Maintenant, s'il vous plaît."

Francophones and their French shit...

"Merde!" She chokes out loudly, and her grip on me fades. "I'm so sorry!"

I look at her from over my shoulder. She's vivid pink, a color that sits too well with her innocent beauty. We stare at each other. I'm sure the feeling is mutual.

"So," I start.

"So," she echoes warily.

The air is laced with awkwardness as she detaches herself from me and averts her gaze.

"Morning, princess."

Rose sits up wildly, hair in a state of disarray. "What time is it?"

"Three in the morning."

She scrambles out of bed, and she's only wearing a sheer black nightgown that is completely see-through. "Where can I find clean clothes?"

"Don't have any, tesoro. Unless you want to wear my clothing."