The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  And then his words were in my head again, the accusation that I had been the one to make him this way.

  No.

  I refused to accept that.

  He might hate women because of me, might claim it was my treatment that had warped anything good inside him, but I hadn’t caused this.

  “Were you planning on standing there all night, or did you want to get some sleep?”

  My eyes shot to him to find he stood just at the doorway of the closet in a pair of loose black pants and a T-shirt.

  “I’m not sleeping in your bed.”

  He grinned.

  “You haven’t been invited there, so that works for both of us.”

  Turning to look at the set of leather couches near the large fireplace that took up one wall, I assumed my bed would be there.

  Callan must have followed my line of sight. “Not there either.”

  My gaze flicked back to him. “Then where?”

  Armed with a smirk I was beginning to hate more than anything, Callan closed the distance between us and grabbed my wrist. Pulling away from him was useless, my bones were frail and tiny in his monstrous grip.

  Led toward his bed, I attempted to keep from being tugged forward, my mouth opening to accuse him of lying. But before I could say a single word, he kicked my feet out from under me, my ass slamming on the thick rug near the end of his bed.

  He pulled a leather strap from somewhere I hadn’t seen and secured my wrist in it, cinching it tight so that I was tied to the heavy foot of the bedframe.

  I glanced up, my eyes narrowed on his face.

  “You expect me to sleep here all night? On the floor?”

  “Right where I can see you. I wouldn’t want my personal servant running off in the middle of the night. What if I want a glass of water? Or a bedtime story?”

  His palm tapped my cheek before he stepped past me to climb in bed.

  On the opposite side of the room, a television flicked on, the glow of the screen brightening as the lights in the room dimmed. I couldn’t see what he was watching, but there was the low din of a cheering crowd, some type of sport that meant little to me as I settled on the rug and stared at a dark wall.

  Leaning back against the hard iron frame, I blinked quickly to stop the tears that stung my eyes. The bastard wanted to see me broken and upset, but I refused to give him that.

  An hour must have passed before I tried to find a comfortable position to lie down, but there were very few options, the strap tightening painfully on my wrist if I tugged too far away.

  Angry, I finally summoned the will to speak.

  “Do I at least get a pillow or a blanket of some kind?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and I thought we were back to him refusing to speak, but then he said, “I can have a dog bed brought in. Would that make you happy?”

  I didn’t bother with an answer.

  I spent the entire night on that floor, the television eventually turning off as Callan shifted on the mattress above me. Unable to sleep soundly, I woke up every time he tossed and turned, and I was bleary eyed by morning when he finally left the bed to wander into the bathroom.

  Giving up on getting any sleep beyond that, I sat up and listened to water running in a shower, my head falling back against the frame of the bed while I fought not to remember what his body had looked like without clothes.

  It was a losing battle. Every ridge and valley of muscle was running through my thoughts, my fingertips brushing over the soft rug as if I could feel the heat of his skin beneath them.

  My throat worked to swallow despite my parched mouth, and it didn’t help when steam rolled out of the bathroom carrying his scent.

  The water shut off, and I peeked around the frame of the bed to watch him walk out completely naked, his powerful body moving with mouthwatering grace as he used a towel to dry his hair. The air caught in my lungs as I watched him move across the room toward his closet, that same air rushing out when he turned so that I could see his back.

  Running my eyes up the hard muscle of his calves and thighs, I paused for a moment on the shape of his perfect ass, but then my eyes crawled higher to see the scars that climbed his back like a ladder rung of faint white lines starting at his hips and ending at his shoulders.

  Who had hurt him, I wondered, my heart constricting in my chest with the fear that he’d earned those scars as a child every time I went to my father to complain about him.

  Not that he’d done anything wrong. I would just grow bored every so often and enjoyed watching him get in trouble.

  A new wave of shame blanketed me as I stared at those scars, but not for too long.

  Callan turned as if he could sense I was watching, and I moved to stay out of sight, my pulse hammering as I stared at the wall again and blinked away more tears of a different kind.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  His deep voice rubbed me in all the right places, a war between desire, regret and fear being fought in my veins.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I lied, refusing to admit I’d been watching him.

  He only laughed softly.

  “You always were a liar.”

  The bulbs in the closet flicked on to bathe the wall in front of me with soft light.

  Hangers scraped against rods, and his heavy steps beat across the floors as Callan moved around the bed to stare down at me.

  Dressed in a pair of jeans that hung loosely off his hips and a T-shirt that hugged every muscle on his large frame, he had a boyish charm with his dark, wet hair hanging down over his forehead, a bead of water slipping down his face to get caught in the stubble that shadowed his jaw.

  Callan crouched beside me and reached forward, but I shuffled back. He stared at me for a few quiet seconds, a smirk curling his lips.

  “Did you want to stay here all day? Or are you going to give me your wrist so I can remove the strap?”

  My hand shook, but I reached toward him regardless, not liking the way he stared intently at me with that dark, whiskey gaze. It always felt like Callan was studying me as if I were some experiment - like a damn mouse running in his fucked up maze.

  I closed my eyes when his hands wrapped over my wrist, his heat sinking into my skin as he worked the strap lose and pulled it from my arm. Before letting me go, he gripped my hand and ran his thumb down the center line of my palm, the tender touch forcing shivers down my spine.

  “You hate it when I touch you.”

  Not a question as much as a statement.

  Sadly, it wasn’t exactly the truth, but I nodded my head on a lie. He affected me in ways I would never admit.

  In some sense, he always had.

  Callan was always lurking when we were kids, a servant kept close by, always watching. I could sense him even when he didn’t want to be seen, my skin prickling with his attention, a wash of goosebumps as if his eyes could somehow reach across the distance to brush my body.

  Whether he knew I sensed him, I wasn’t sure, but it would make me angry for some reason. Why chase a girl yet never talk to her? Why allow her to hurt you without fighting back?

  It only made me want to hurt him more, as if that would free me of whatever spell he’d spun.

  “We should go,” he said, breaking me from the past.

  “I have a long day ahead of me, which means you have a long day as well.”

  I opened my eyes to look at him.

  “As your servant?”

  “Yes.”

  There was no telling what he would do all day to make my life hell, but I squared my shoulders regardless.

  He wouldn’t steal my pride.

  “I need to change into a new uniform.”

  “You do. Gretchen will pitch a fit to see this one so wrinkled. I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready. Don’t keep me waiting long.”

  “If I do?”

  Callan grinned. “I’ll find a creative way of punishing you.”

  Without another word, he p
ushed to his full height and left the room.

  Not wanting to keep the bastard waiting, I eventually stood from the floor, grabbed a new uniform and walked into his bathroom to get dressed.

  There was no telling what the son of a bitch had planned for me today.

  Whatever it was, he would make sure I didn’t like it.

  Callan

  It would be a lie to say I wasn’t enjoying my new arrangement with Lisbeth. Not that she had much say in the matter. The fact that she continued to hold her chin up like she was something more than the servant I’d made of her only excited me and impressed me at the same time.

  I would have sworn she was made of much more fragile stock than she’d shown so far.

  But then...she was a Rose.

  The girl may have been pampered her entire life, but she hadn’t been born to weak parents. Her father was a lethal son of a bitch while her mother had been cunning. It made sense that Lisbeth had taken after them. Their evil had been written into her genes, a perfect formula of stealth and beauty that shaped the woman she’d become.

  Unfortunately for Lisbeth, I’d been born of a strong woman, too. My mother hadn’t come from a wealthy family, but had honed her instincts on the streets. She had a spine of steel and a sharp mind that kept her from breaking under the pressure of the demands made of her. She’d loved me fiercely and did what was necessary to keep me safe, even if she couldn’t protect me from Lisbeth’s games.

  I never knew my father, and my mother had never spoken of him much. So, I couldn’t judge what he’d given me. In that area of my life, I could only look to Franklin’s influence, an influence where I’d most likely gained a few traits of the Rose family.

  Our genetic makeup made Lisbeth and I the perfect opponents, and our past only served to fan those flames. I wondered how much it would take to make her cower. I hoped I would have a front row seat when she finally tipped and spilled out from her ivory tower.

  Yet, as it stood now, her pedestal was still firmly in place.

  In her mind, at least.

  How long would it take to rip it out from under her?

  “Were you planning on telling me about your overnight guest, or was it meant to be a surprise when she walked out here?”

  I turned to find Franklin waiting for me in his usual spot, newspaper and coffee in hand, his throat working to swallow a sip before he set the mug on a side table with a quiet click.

  “Since when have I announced any of my overnight guests? Is there a book they should use to sign in?”

  His brow arched, the cold lines of his face barely moving as he set the paper aside and crossed an ankle over a knee. Even at this early hour, he was already dressed in a grey suit with a pressed white shirt beneath the jacket.

  I never understood how he wore those suits twenty-four seven. I couldn’t stand them, but still cleaned up extraordinarily well when I had to.

  “It didn’t take long for her to crawl under your skin, did it? Please tell me you fucked her once to scratch an old itch and you’re not planning to make a habit of it.”

  “I didn’t fuck her at all. She slept on the floor.”

  The skin crinkled between his eyes. “Why?”

  “Because she’s my servant now, and that’s where I wanted her. Why are you so surprised? Edward must have called you immediately after I spoke with him to tattle.”

  He grinned.

  “While you are technically head of the family, I’m still the one who sees to it that everything runs smoothly. Of course he told me what is going on. And to say I’m pissed would be an understatement. You’re playing with fire, and you know it.”

  “How so?”

  Blinking his eyes once, Franklin shifted in his seat.

  “There’s a fight in two days that you need to prepare for if you plan on stepping foot in that ring. Yet, instead of managing that, you’re playing sleepover with the only woman I know of that has the ability to distract you. Is she really worth the risk to your life?”

  A muscle in my jaw ticked. “I’m sparring today and will be preparing in other ways tomorrow. She won’t distract me from that.”

  Franklin’s eyes flicked past my shoulder, so much contempt twisting his expression that I knew Lisbeth had finally emerged from my room to step into view.

  He didn’t acknowledge her openly, simply dragged his disapproval back my direction to pin me in place.

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To eat and then I’ll be leaving for the day. Tell Benny to expect me in a few hours.”

  Franklin nodded and snatched his paper from the couch, unfolding it to hide his face as I left with Lisbeth following behind me.

  We weaved the labyrinth of halls, eventually finding our way to the first floor. I led her through the family dining room and into the kitchen, her eyes widening with surprise when the staff greeted me and went back to their work as I walked to the small table set up near a side wall where I preferred to eat breakfast.

  I’d always felt more comfortable around the staff than I did the higher ups of the family and businesses, and I was sure to always treat them well. They treated me well just the same.

  Ellen, one of the main cooks and a member of the staff who hadn’t been shot on the night of Lisbeth’s ball, ran over to pat me on the shoulder.

  “Callan. We’ll have your food for you shortly.” Eyes darting to Lisbeth, her expression twisted with confusion. “Shall I bring a second plate as well?”

  I glanced up, my eyes drifting to Lisbeth before settling back on the face of the woman who had been friends with my mother.

  As usual, Ellen had her silver hair pulled back behind a net, her uniform of white shirt on white pants spotless and pressed. She had the kindest green eyes I’d ever seen, always smiling, even when I was a child and she would sneak me treats after I’d been punished for whatever Lisbeth lied about.

  “No. But if you could send someone to bring Gretchen here, I’d appreciate it.”

  Ellen flashed Lisbeth one last scathing look before running off to do as I asked. While she did that, Lisbeth stood awkwardly near me. I took my phone out of my pocket to play some stupid game I’d downloaded for free.

  Minutes passed without a word between us, my breakfast plate set on the table just as Gretchen walked up.

  “Mr. Rose.”

  I loaded a spoonful of eggs on my fork before glancing at her, but rather than shoving them in my mouth, I flung them to the floor in a way that was purely accidental.

  Lisbeth’s cheeks tinged red immediately, and I looked at her without giving away the truth of our new game.

  Gretchen stepped aside, her head snapping up to Lisbeth where she stood glaring at me.

  “Well, are you just going to stand there, or will you clean it up?”

  Eyes narrowed, Lisbeth turned to search the kitchen for a rag or dustpan, eventually returning to bend down and clean the eggs from the floor.

  Once she was done, my elbow caught the full coffee mug as I moved too quickly, the mug tipping over to crash against the floor.

  My eyes met Lisbeth’s. “Whoops.”

  Gretchen glanced at me with concern on her face. “Are you feeling okay, Mr. Rose? It’s not like you to be so-“

  “Klutzy?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  It was a bullshit lie, of course. I’d slept like a baby. Which was odd, really. It had been years since I’d slept that soundly.

  Gretchen’s stern eyes snapped to Lisbeth.

  “Again, Miss Rose. Are you purposely trying to make me look bad by just standing there and doing nothing?”

  I smiled at the rage shimmering over Lisbeth’s cheeks, the subtle vibration of it in her shoulders.

  But like the good little servant she was, Lisbeth got down on hand and knee to clean the spill and pick up the shattered chunks of the mug.

  Blowing out a breath of exasperation, Gretchen looked at me.

  “W
hat did you call me for, Mr. Rose? If it’s to return Lisbeth to training, I can certainly understand why.”

  “Not at all. But she will need to eat breakfast, so I wanted you to escort her to the staff dining hall. I’ll pick her up from there.”

  “I’ll do so immediately, sir.”

  Before she could step away, I reached out to touch her arm.

  “Oh, and seeing as how Lisbeth has been so negligent in her duties, I think an example should be made of her.”

  “Of course, sir. What type of example?”

  Lisbeth pushed up to her feet, her glare swiping across my face before she turned to dump the shards of mug into the trash and return the rag to the counter.

  “She has a problem with dropping to the floor to clean, as you’ve seen. Claims it goes against her pride or something like that. Perhaps if she ate breakfast on the floor where everybody can see her, she’ll learn to accept it better. Maybe in the center of the dining hall to ensure every staff member has an unobstructed view.”

  Gretchen didn’t drop her usual scowl, but I could see a smile in her eyes.

  “You’re too kind to her. I would have fired her on the spot.”

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  A high-pitched sound caught my attention, the quiet shriek of rage Lisbeth couldn’t completely contain. Her face was now fully red, her eyes narrowed on me with such hatred that I could feel the slash of them against my skin.

  Gretchen locked her hand on Lisbeth’s arm and shoved her toward the exit. After they stepped away, I couldn’t hear exactly what Gretchen said, but judging by the hiss in her voice, I could assume it wasn’t pleasant.

  As for me, I was given a fresh mug of coffee to go with my food. Ellen’s eyes crinkled at the corners while she shook her head.

  “I can’t believe you let that woman back into this house after everything she did to you.”

  Giving her a shrug, I chewed a heaping spoonful of eggs and swallowed.

  “She needed a job. Franklin told me she would have been homeless if I hadn’t let her come back.”

  Another shake of her head.

  “Your heart has always been too big, Callan. She could have been freezing and starving and I wouldn’t have let her through the door. How many beatings did you take because of her? Some years it felt like it was daily.”