The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  I didn’t hear a word of what she told me following I was in Miss Rose’s room. Everything else had been white noise, a static sound as my pulse pounded and blood rushed through my head.

  That bitch...

  Two fucking days and already she was back to terrorizing the staff with her ridiculous demands and bratty behavior.

  My anger must have shown in my expression because Holly shrank back, her unblinking eyes locked to my face.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Rose, I didn’t mean to speak poorly of your family-“

  I pushed to my feet and stared down at her. “Miss Rose is not my family. And you have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of it.”

  If anything, Holly’s tears helped focus me. Two days and I hadn’t been able to decide what to do with Lisbeth. Two days and I couldn’t put a finger on her behavior.

  It only took two days, and already the spoiled bitch princess was back to her usual shit.

  Two days...and I knew exactly how to rip the pedestal out from under her.

  Lisbeth

  A tiny shard of glass slid beneath my skin, drawing blood. Wincing at the nip of broken glass, I lifted my finger to inspect the damage, used my nails to slide the sliver out and then stuck my finger in my mouth to staunch the bleeding.

  It was only a small wound, nothing major, but it was enough to make me hate the morning more than I already did, enough to knock me back on my ass where I sat staring at the glimmer of more shards that needed to be swept up and thrown away. I didn’t have a broom or a dustpan and dreaded having to seek out a maid to ask for help, especially after making the last one cry.

  I felt terrible and made the decision to find that young woman and apologize, but first I needed to clean up this mess somehow.

  Pushing to my feet, I lifted my head to the sound of hurried footsteps. Several people were coming my way from what I could gather, so I cinched my robe around my body to hide my nightgown, a smile stretching my lips to see three staff rush in my room.

  “Oh, hey. Did you bring a broom, by chance? I need to clean-“

  My words cut off as the staff rushed past me and a man stepped around the corner. I stumbled back in response to the sheer size of him. At six foot five, at least, he towered over me and had a shoulder span twice the width of mine.

  For a moment, I thought he didn’t notice I was standing there, that he didn’t intend to claim my space, but he kept moving forward, forcing me back until my foot hit a piece of the glass and I winced from the pain.

  His shoe crunched over the glass that remained, but if he noticed, I wasn’t sure because his narrowed eyes were locked to my face, and his lips were pulled in a tight scowl.

  As soon as I met his stare, my mouth parting to tell him to back off, recognition hit me like a bullet.

  How was it possible? My eyes rounded in disbelief while my mind whispered one name, an unthinkable repetition that fell from my lips.

  I tried to shake away the thought that this could be the boy I remembered. Always such a scrawny thing, he’d never commanded the room. He had been more of a shadow than a person many noticed. But those eyes, the depth of the color, like a fine whiskey, were unmistakable.

  “Callan...”

  I would know those amber eyes anywhere, even if it had only been once that he made full eye contact. How was he alive?

  For a moment, I was lost to the man that stood before me, the room fading off in my peripheral vision, time itself ceasing its forward motion. I was ripped back, if anything, to ten years before this moment. And while I knew the person holding my stare, I didn’t understand what he’d become.

  He was a dark smear against the polished decor, a speck of dirt against the sparkling surface of glass. Roughshod and larger than life, this man not only stole the space around him, he consumed it. It took effort to drag my gaze from his so that I could run my eyes down a body that had pure steel beneath the T-shirt and jeans he wore, every muscle sculpted and defined, the strength of him fighting the seams of his clothes. He’d filled out in the ten years since I’d seen him last and had become something that froze me in place.

  Dragging my eyes up to his face, I swept them across a square jaw shaded by stubble as black as his hair, across lips that were a perfect shape. His cheekbones cut beneath his eyes like blades, and our stares locked again in such a bitter hold that the shock of seeing him bled away like he’d sliced skin and had extracted every ounce of bravery inside me and replaced it with healthy fear.

  He was beautiful in a terrifying way. A predator that draws you in and snaps your neck while you admire him.

  How could this be the same boy I had treated so badly all those years? This wasn’t the same mouse that had scurried the halls in a rush to do as I told him. If anything, this man was a stain on the lush surface of the Rose estate, a dark entity that wouldn’t be contained.

  I didn’t dare strike out at the person Callan had become. If anything, I wanted to run from him.

  The room around us snapped back into focus, my momentary shock lost to the flurry of activity as the staff rushed past with my suitcases in their hands, the meager belongings I’d brought with me and neglected to unpack.

  Finding my voice, I called out to them to ask what they were doing and flinched when a strong hand wrapped around my arm. Lifting my eyes back to Callan’s face, I saw the scowl curl up into a smirk.

  “What are you-“

  He tugged me forward before I had the chance to ask the question. More glass cut into my foot, and I cried out.

  “I’m barefoot and there’s broken glass.”

  Callan didn’t seem to give a damn about the pain I was in, he just kept dragging me forward until we were out in the hall, my feet tripping over themselves to keep up with his powerful stride.

  My attempts to tug my arm from his grip only caused him to close his hand tighter, and I yelped in response to the punishing hold.

  “Stop, damn it. What are you doing?”

  The complaints fell on deaf ears, apparently. He didn’t speak to me to tell me what was going on. He kept dragging me along to leave bloody footprints in our wake, turned a corner once we hit the service hall, and hurried me along toward the servant’s wing.

  Dragged down another hall, we only paused long enough for him to open a door, his grip finally releasing my arm when he shoved me inside with such force that I fell on the floor, pain shooting up my tailbone, while at the same time, my head snapped back and hit something hard.

  I opened my eyes to stare up at him, expecting some explanation about what he was doing, but all he did was glare down at me as another man rounded him to stand at my bloody feet.

  Callan turned and left before the second man said a word.

  “Miss Rose.”

  “What the fuck is going on?” I yelled, unconcerned that my behavior would be unbecoming of a lady according to my mother. I was pissed off and hurting with all the glass now embedded in my skin.

  “Bring me my uncle right this fucking second. I will not let you treat me this way.”

  The man grinned a practiced smile that only pissed me off more. “I haven’t done anything to you,” he answered calmly, his posture prim and expression unreadable.

  “Mr. Rose, on the other hand, has decided this will be your room from now on.”

  “Mr. Rose?” Confusion flooded me. “Why would Franklin want me kept in a servant’s room?”

  The man didn’t bother with an answer, he simply ran his eyes down my body like I was nothing better than trash, his gaze pausing on the blood seeping from my feet before dragging his eyes back to my face.

  “You may want to deal with your wounds before Gretchen arrives. She’ll want to begin your training as quickly as possible.”

  A maid rushed in to drape a uniform over the twin bed shoved against a far wall, her gaze meeting mine with apology before she rushed back out again.

  “I hope we selected the proper size for your uniform. If I were you, I’d be dressed and ready to go. Gret
chen is not one to excuse insubordination.”

  With that, he spun to leave the room, but I wasn’t done with the conversation. My fists slammed against the floor on either side of me, my voice coming out as an embarrassing shriek when I demanded, “Bring me my uncle, right fucking now! I’ll have your job for this shit!”

  The man glanced over his shoulder at me, arched a brow, then turned to shut the door behind him.

  I shoved up to my feet and stumbled to the door, one fist banging on the wood while the other slammed down the lever.

  Locked.

  They locked me in?

  What the hell was going on?

  My fists pummeled the wood, the frame shaking with how hard I hit. I was beyond angry now, so damn enraged that I swore I would attack the next person who walked in here.

  Someone must have heard my threats and warnings through the door because it popped open while I was in the middle of my tirade, the panel shoving back so fast that it almost caught me in the face.

  I winced when my foot slammed down and ground the glass in deeper only to look up to have a hand slammed across my mouth and my body shoved back until I was up against a wall.

  The amber stare that caught mine was nothing less than lethal.

  Fingers crushed my cheeks against my teeth, the pain of that competing with my feet and the back of my head. I had the strangest feeling that if I didn’t shut up now, I wouldn’t live to see the outside of this room.

  Callan leaned in so close that our noses were almost touching, a low growl crawling up his throat that reminded me of a rabid dog.

  I wanted to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, but I didn’t dare move my mouth against his palm for fear he’d snap my neck and watch silently while my body slid to the floor.

  Seconds passed, an intense hatred flowing out of him, before he let me go, and I slid to the ground regardless. Tears ran down my cheeks, which pounded from the blood rushing back in, my head and feet only adding to the beat as if they were accompanying drums.

  Callan glared down at me without saying a word, eventually turning to stride out of the room and shut the door again. I heard the lock click in place like a final warning that this is where I’d been put, and I’d better learn to like it.

  Who the fuck did he think he was, treating me this way?

  But beyond that, how was he even here? Mom told me everyone died that night. Every guest, every server, every staff member that was in that ballroom. The only reason Franklin survived was because he had left the house to deal with a business errand.

  None of this was making sense.

  And why the fuck was I being locked in a staff bedroom?

  Callan must have been head of security or held some other position within the house that made him think he had the right to touch me, but after I talked to Franklin, I would made it clear he wasn’t to come near me again.

  The door popped open, and a woman walked in a few minutes later. I realized I hadn’t followed instructions by tending to my wounds or putting on that bullshit uniform.

  It wasn’t going to fucking happen.

  But then again, with the way the woman looked at me, maybe it was. Hers was not an expression a smart person went up against and won.

  “You must be Gretchen,” I snapped, pure venom in my voice because obviously these people forgot who I was.

  She tapped her toe and stared at me like I was a child throwing a temper tantrum. I didn’t think anything could be colder than the look in her eyes, but then she spoke and proved me wrong.

  “And you must be our newest employee who doesn’t know how to follow directions. I’m certain Edward explained that I expect you to be dressed and ready when I arrive.”

  She had to be kidding. It was obvious everybody in this house was confused. I couldn’t blame them. I was gone for ten years, the entire staff had to replaced. How would they know who I was?

  I was sure Callan had a hand in this. And if I had to be honest, I knew why. I’d treated him like a slave when we were younger, so maybe this was his screwed up idea of a funny joke, but at some point it needed to end.

  “I’m not doing anything until I speak with Franklin. I won’t put on a damn uniform for you, for Edward, or for Callan. I’m not sure you all know who I am, but when Mr. Rose finds out about this-“

  Gretchen grinned, the line of her mouth like a freshly honed blade.

  “Save your breath, Lisbeth. Mr. Rose is well aware of your situation, seeing as he was the one who put you in this room. It appears we know who you are, but you have no idea who runs this house. I’ll be sure to fetch you a directory when you’re finished being a spoiled brat. It’ll save us all a lot of time. Until then, enjoy...” she wiggled her fingers at my feet, “...bleeding or whatever it is you’re doing to establish dominance. We’ll all be on pins and needles to see what you have in store for us next.”

  Hating the tears that kept falling, I slapped at them and refused to believe a word out of this bitch’s mouth.

  “Get me my uncle,” I demanded, my voice ratcheting higher until it cracked under the strain. “Now!”

  Gretchen must have been built of pure steel, not so much as flinching at the way I screamed. She merely tightened her smile more, that blade of a line so sharp it could cut you to the bone.

  “You’d do well to mind your manners in this house. I’d hate for you to learn what happens to petty little brats who believe themselves larger than they are.”

  With that, Gretchen left the room, the door shut, the lock thrown in place, and I was left to cower against the wall where Callan had left me, a puddle of blood forming beneath my feet as my mind fought to make sense of all that had happened.

  Callan

  Sweat dripped down my body as I locked the bar on the uprights, the metallic snap of the two pieces coming together doing nothing to help bleed away the rage simmering beneath my skin.

  Two hours had passed since I stuffed Lisbeth in her new room, and I’d spent them driving my body in ways that tore at my muscles and weakened my bones, yet I still couldn’t shake her voice from my head, the past blending with the present.

  Intermixed with the indignant shrieks she’d made while pounding on a locked door in the servant’s wing were the insults she wrapped for me in pretty red bows, the abuse she’d delivered on the glimmer of sterling silver trays. Lisbeth was the toxicity that ran unfettered within my blood. She was the painful pulse that threatened my arteries.

  My hatred of her was a war cry in my head, but I made a mistake when I touched her. I made a mistake when I stared into a set of angry blue eyes and accepted the challenge of taming her.

  Lisbeth was frightened when she first saw me, that emotion bled from her with a sweet aroma that I longed to taste, but then, just as quickly her anger surfaced, an acrid memory rising to the surface that chased bile up my throat and tore at my skin, my blood running cold as she lashed out with her threats and demands.

  I’d stood outside her door and absorbed every cut, every scratch, every blistering remark so that I could wear them like a brand.

  But it wasn’t hatred that had pulled every muscle taut over my aching bones. It wasn’t fury that heated my skin. It was a deep-seated need to break her in ways that I never could’ve imagined in the ten years she was missing.

  Her poison was what had driven me to this room, her voice screaming through my head as I pushed my body to a point of breaking, my hatred for her leaking out of me with each bead of sweat. My desire to tame her only increasing.

  Frustrated, I sat up and grabbed a towel to dry the sweat dripping down the back of my neck as Franklin strolled into the gym, his brow furrowed, suit impeccable and eyes held in a hard stare on me.

  “I thought we were going to discuss your decision regarding Lisbeth prior to you dragging her through the house on bloody feet and shoving her into a room.”

  My lips split in a feral grin. The memory of her screaming played through my head so many times in the past few hours that the
y had dug a channel through my brain like worms in damp soil.

  “She’s lucky that’s all I did. I could have dragged her to the training rooms and handed her off to Colton.”

  Franklin chuckled, leaned a shoulder against a wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “She’s asking for me. I assume she believes I’ll sweep in and rescue her.”

  Straddling the bench, I continued toweling my body off, every muscle locked tight across my bones. It wasn’t enough. Rage ticked inside me like a volatile bomb that needed to remain steady, one wobble in the wrong direction and I would explode.

  The next fights weren’t for another week. Holding off that long felt like it would destroy me.

  “She screamed for a solid fifteen minutes after we locked her in that room. I stood outside for most of it. Her anger was a nice flavor for my morning coffee.”

  Lifting my eyes to him, I grinned. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much as I did.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked.

  “Yes, and now I get to go handle the meltdown. What should I tell her?”

  “That she’s a maid in our house now. And that she won’t be leaving for a very long time. She has a debt, and it will be repaid.”

  “And if she refuses?”

  “Then take her to the lower level floors and introduce her to the parts of her father’s business she never saw when she was a kid. I’m sure the truth might snap her into submission.”

  His voice was careful with the next question, only because he was smart enough to know I’d already asked it myself.

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Teeth grinding so hard that it locked my jaw, I tried not to think about what would happen if I were forced to take care of the problem.

  The bitch affected me in ways I was struggling to ignore.

  “Then I guess I’ll be the one to manage it.”

  I shrugged, wrapped the towel around my neck and held it tight, my hands gripping the ends of both sides.