His Rose

His Rose: 2

أرى كل إنسان يرى عيب غيره ويعمى عن العيب الذي هو فيه
Everyone is critical of the flaws of others, but blind to their own

Rose

My eyes widen in surprise before sitting up straight—looking around at my surroundings. For some reason, I feel like I don't realise the room I'm in. Frowning, I run my fingers through my hair as I look down at my clothes, seeing that I'm in a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts. No surprise there. He must've undressed me.

Did something happen last night?

Breathing out, I look up at the window; seeing the sunlight passing through. Memories of last night come rushing in my mind, making me feel all sorts of emotions. From making an eye contact with a total stranger—Elia—and being injected by something into my neck. Pretty sure they were drugs. They felt like drugs but from a whole different level.

See what I did there? I've had drugs.

''I'm sorry, mio amore.'' I close my eyes, remembering the way he said it. Not really shocking that he is Italian—could've paid more attention. Yet, he speaks English fluently; like he was born here. Suddenly, I start to see his face in my mind as he smiles at me. The way he looks at me, his gaze, his stare, his glance—they all give me feelings. I have never felt this way before.

How can a simple glance makes me go weak on my knees?

Let's not forget when he grabbed my hand—it felt like every volt of electricity passed through my veins. It was something, surely something but what attracts me most is the way he looks at me. It is as if I can see through his soul—making me want to solve the mystery puzzle. Wanting to solve him.

I immediately look at the door as I hear voices. Pushing myself up, I walk quickly towards the door before pulling it open and following the voices—which is downstairs. My eyes widen at the sight I see. Am I dreaming or is this reality? The living room is modernly organised, yet, it held an ancient touch. Everything seems to be in white which makes the mansion looks larger than it already is.

As I walk down the stairs in a hurry, I see a glimpse of someone from behind in a suit.

All of a sudden, I am somehow locked at my spot. I can only watch him enter the car and leave. He doesn't even turn around to look at what's behind. Furrowing my brows, I groan at my own stupidity. What the hell, Rose? You had your chance to talk to him. I sigh as I stare at the doors in front of me—not really knowing why I stopped.

''Sir Elia will be back in a week.'' Someone says from behind which causes me to turn around in surprise. I take a better look at him and see that he is probably in his sixties. He is wearing a tuxedo as he eyes me with a slight concern, ''How can I help you, miss?''

''Thorne.'' I answer, ''Rose Thorne.''

He nods his head and for a few seconds, we just stand there, awkwardly looking around. I try to break the sudden awkwardness but there isn't much to say to him—I'm not really good when it comes to starting a conversation. I fake a cough, ''I think I'll just go upstairs.'' I say, pointing at the stairs.

''Wait, Miss Thorne.'' He takes something from his pocket before handing it to me, ''He left you a message.'' And he starts to walk away—down the hall; leaving me staring at the envelope.

Is he trying to be a gentleman or is he too busy that he couldn't meet me and say it himself? I ignore the thought before opening the envelope and unfolding the paper. A smirk appears on my face as I see how he has a neat handwriting which is not very common for men. Most of them have sloppy handwritings. Guess, he's not a common man.