Book One of "The Roses" Series
✿PINK ROSE✿
Vikrant was a man shaped by shadows-ruthless, calculating, and unyieldingly cold. In his world, softness was a weakness, and mercy was a foreign concept. He had climbed the ranks of the underworld, his name...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Bikini model," She said.
A bikini model? I truly have no issue with her pursuing that, but I wouldn't hesitate to eliminate anyone who dared look at her in that. And, honestly, I have no problem being labelled a murderer.
Her smirk deepened, clearly enjoying my silence.
“Writer,” I finally said, my own smirk creeping up.
"That's your real dream, isn't it?" I leaned back, feeling the chair against my back as her expression shifted. The smirk disappeared, replaced by pure shock.
“H…How do you know?” she asked, a few of her brown curls falling forward, testing my restraint. The urge to reach out, feel them, run my fingers through them—God, I’m obsessed with those curls. Always have been.
“As I said, stalking,” I admitted, almost too casually.
But then those five words—I don’t want to marry—hit me like a bullet, straight to the heart. The pain was sharper than I could’ve imagined. Deeper than any wound I’ve ever endured. The injury near my heart? Nothing compared to this. The gunshot to my leg? That was child's play. But hearing her say those words? That hurt in a way nothing else ever could.
“Why do you want to marry me?” she asked softly, her honeyed voice drawing me back from the chaos of my thoughts, grounding me in her presence.
“I have my own reasons,” I replied, keeping it measured, calm.
Reason: I fucking love her.
To wake up next to her every morning, making breakfast together while laughing, stealing hugs, and listening to her breathtaking laughter. Receiving a soft kiss before heading to the office, only to spend the day thinking about her, eager to return home and wrap her in my arms. I imagine making her favourite dinner while she sits on the kitchen counter, sharing every detail of her day with me. Then, we’d cuddle through her favourite movie, the world fading away. Later, a calm, intimate bath where I’d gently wash her hair, every touch filled with care.
And finally, we’d be together, closer than ever, no fears, no worries—just us, holding each other tight as we drift into sleep. I’d watch her as she sleeps, thinking about how lucky I am to have another day with her. Spoiling her while shopping, cherishing every smile, every laugh, even her tears.
This is the only reason.
Sorry, love, but I want to be selfish. Selfish enough to spend my entire life with you. Selfish to marry the only person who makes my heart race. Selfish to love you until my heart beats its last.
“Reasons? What are they? I’m not rich enough to help with your business, and my father isn’t a businessman who can offer you any advantage. So, what’s the point of marrying me?” she asked.
