The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  She tossed an empty crystal decanter off the side bar near the fireplace, the shattering glass a sharp sound against the tense silence between us.

  Spinning to face me, she asked, “Did she scream when you fucked her? Do you enjoy taking women against their will?” A roll of her eyes. “I didn’t know you were so desperate.”

  My brow arched, but I didn’t react beyond that. I was about to take her against her will, make her scream just to show her what I thought of her bitchy attitude.

  If she was lucky, I wouldn’t demand she crawl on hands and knees through the broken glass just so I could do what I wanted.

  “Careful, Lisbeth. I might think you’re jealous.”

  Her eyes widened, not much, not enough that anybody else would have noticed. But I wasn’t just anybody. I was a man who’d watched her for years.

  My heart beat hard inside my chest as everything about me became hard.

  Lisbeth’s anger was mixed with fear. There was no other flavor like it.

  She was as agitated as a spitting cat, and I wanted nothing more than to stroke her fur backwards.

  Fuck that.

  I wanted to pin her against a wall, lift that ridiculous skirt up another inch, and shove my cock so far inside her that it would be a fitting celebration of my victory.

  “Me,” she laughed, “jealous of you?”

  Her gaze dragged down me with disgust I hadn’t seen since we were kids. “You don’t have to worry about that, Callan, you don’t have a single thing that I want. You’re nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a man, a Rose in name and nothing-“

  I was across the room and on her before she could finish the thought, a surprised shriek muffled behind the hand I clapped over her mouth while my boots ground the broken glass into the floor.

  Lifting her with just my palm against her chin, I grinned when her bare feet kicked, her heels thudding against the wall.

  Mouth to her ear, my words came out on a dark hiss.

  “Keep talking, brat. I haven’t seen you like this since we were kids. What were you going to say to me? That I’m worthless? That you’re somehow better than me?”

  The scruff of my jaw scratched her skin, my free hand sliding up the inside of her thigh.

  “Please say those things,” I crooned, my voice so fucking deep I knew it vibrated against her bones. “I’ve always wanted to fuck this pretty little cunt while you’re abusing me with your words.”

  Releasing her chin, I caught her and spun her toward the wall, my body trapping hers, my hand flipping her skirt above her waist just before I ripped off her panties. She was so fucking wet, so fucking angry, so fucking perfect for what I would do.

  My mouth was to her ear again, my heart thumping in time with the angry beat of her breath.

  “And what’s fucked up is you like this. You’re practically dripping for me already. I should have done it a long time ago.”

  I laughed, my fingers slipping inside her and my cock straining against my pants when her eyes clenched closed, her mouth falling open.

  “What’s the matter, brat? Did you not like what you saw today? Does it bother you that your money was made on the lives of fighters and the backs of the unwilling?”

  My fingers pumped in a slow rhythm, stretching wider until I could slip three inside her tight hole.

  Speaking with barely a whisper, I admitted, “I didn’t fuck anybody after the fight. That woman you saw? She’s paid. She wants to do what she does, chooses to do it. But that wasn’t the way your daddy did things. No, he wanted them to scream and cry when he came. I’m the one who fucking changed that rule.”

  Pulling my hand away, I unbuttoned my pants and freed my cock, the head pushing against her pussy as tears slipped from her eyes.

  “So, don’t you dare fucking judge me like I’m not worthy to lick your shoes. You’ve always been the lesser among us. At least I have a sense of worth that wasn’t built on the backs of others.”

  Thrusting inside her with one hard shove, I buried myself to the balls, practically sipping on the scream that tore from her throat, part anger at what I’d said and part lust.

  That’s the thing with bitches: they’ll pretend they want to be worshipped when the truth is they want to be stripped of their power and fucked dirty against a wall.

  My hips slammed against her ass as I took everything I wanted, my adrenaline skyrocketing to finally fulfill what felt like a lifetime dream:

  Fucking this woman until she shut the hell up.

  “If I don’t have anything that you want, explain to me why your cunt is hugging my cock right now. Explain to me why soft little moans are crawling up your throat.”

  I reached around her to circle my thumb against her clit, my hips driving harder and faster until she cried out with an orgasm, her pretty little pussy rippling over my dick.

  I was growling, as I fought not to come inside her. “Now, tell me I have nothing to offer.”

  She trembled as her body came down from the release I’d forced through her, and I chuckled to hear it.

  “Be a good girl, and tell me you’ll play nice with others from now on.”

  She nodded her head, but that wasn’t good enough.

  My cock sunk deeper, balls tightening with the need to come.

  “Say it,” I growled.

  “I’m sorry,” she panted. “I thought-“

  “I don’t care what you thought. Tell me you’ll be nice.”

  “I’ll be nice,” she breathed.

  I pulled out of her and slammed my hand against the wall as my release spurt down the back of her leg.

  It didn’t matter what Lisbeth said.

  I could always tell when the brat was lying.

  It was time someone taught her the difference between being prideful and having bad manners.

  Lisbeth

  “So, now you know.”

  Exhaling heavily as the mattress dipped beside me, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. I didn’t have to look at Holly’s face to know she was cautious about speaking to me.

  I’d been a wreck when Connor carried me from the arena to take me back to the mansion, my legs lacking strength after fighting against him, my stomach working hard to expel what was inside it that I was dry heaving by the time he returned me to the family suite for the night.

  But then the sickness subsided and something else took over, a part of me I’d forgotten over the years of running away from one nightmare only to crawl into another.

  Sick of being told what to do and shoved around, I shed the proper demeanor that had been forced down my throat since I was a child, and I lost myself to the feel of it.

  I’d felt powerful for the first time in years. Felt whole again because I knew there was a woman inside me that didn’t take shit from others.

  She was there for only a flash of a second, it seemed. Callan stole her back the second he walked in the room and recognized her. Recognized me.

  Obviously, it didn’t go as well as expected. When I’d tried to leave Callan’s room, Connor had fought me back inside it. Once I knew escaping wasn’t an option, I lost my ability to remain level headed. And that’s when I started breaking whatever I wanted.

  It was stupid of me. I knew that. But I was done being the kept woman my parents had made me, only to have Callan do it when I was older.

  I was done.

  Finished.

  Sick of it all.

  But then Callan had come home and forced my body to betray me. He pulled the worst out of me and then laughed when his aggression was stronger than mine.

  When had he become so strong? I don’t know what I expected. The boy from my past? For us both to slip into roles we’d known so well? As easy as shedding the present to slip into another skin that didn’t fit anymore.

  Mine did.

  His didn’t.

  I could still hear him laughing against my ear because he knew, no matter what I did, he’d win. He’d waited for this, for the moment wh
en Lisbeth Rose tried rising from her ashes just so he could burn her down again.

  And it had burned.

  The pain of it agonizing.

  The truth of him stealing away every instinct I had to fight with unsheathed claws.

  After he was done with me, he had me taken to a servant’s room and locked away for safe keeping. I think that hurt the most because it meant that he’d gotten what he wanted. What he had been pushing me towards all along.

  This was his game and I was just a pawn, a squat player that could move only one step in whatever direction I pleased, while he swept in to claim the entire board.

  I’d been in this room ever since.

  Throughout the night, Gretchen stepped in at least once an hour to check on me. She didn’t bring up my emotional state, or what she knew I’d witnessed at the arena. Instead, she walked me to the bathroom when I needed it and brought me water and cold compresses for my face because my tears wouldn’t stop falling.

  Disappointment had twisted her usual scowl, the click of her sensible shoes the only lecture she had to give me.

  I’d left my pride in Callan’s room, there against the wall where he’d ripped open a curtain to reveal all the things I’d never known.

  My father was a murderer and a rapist, and I’d happily built my life on the bloody pedestal he’d built for me.

  I’d been happy for the silence of the servant’s room, for the time alone to digest the truth of the crimes my family were involved in that had financed my spoiled childhood.

  Eventually, I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep, but only sporadic bursts of it at a time. I was restless and hurting, angry and confused.

  I’d assumed Callan had feasted on his prize after the fight, and I hated to admit how much it hurt to know what he was doing. But then he told me he never touched her, he admitted that it was all just a sordid ruse.

  Could I trust him?

  An intelligent woman would have written Callan off the minute the truth came to light. Yet, I couldn’t make sense of the things he’d said to me. I’d seen goodness in him, hadn’t I? I’d heard sincerity in his voice when he spoke to me in the silence of his shadowed room. When he’d asked me if he was good enough. I’d witnessed the care he took of the servants. The care he took of me when I was injured.

  Even if he had been the cause of some of those injuries.

  How could a man like that turn around and be so cold? So callous?

  And why did my heart hurt so much?

  I think that was the worst question of all.

  Why did it even matter?

  It was morning by the time the door opened again, and while I’d expected Gretchen to walk through, it surprised me to see Holly.

  She sat patiently beside me waiting for my response.

  Lifting my head, I opened my eyes to find her sitting primly on the edge of the bed, her maid uniform crisp and her hair tucked up in a low bun.

  Like nothing had happened.

  Like my world hadn’t just imploded.

  “Yeah,” I finally said, “now I know.”

  I knew so many things I wasn’t sure I could tell her.

  Her blues eyes flicked to mine with sympathy behind them, guilt maybe.

  “I wanted to help you last night when the fight ended, but I knew better than to try to get past Connor. While they’ll put up with you, they wouldn’t with me.”

  Shaking my head, I rested a hand on her shoulder. “No. Never feel that obligation. Never get in the middle of this.”

  Holly shrugged as if she’d let it go, but I could feel the indecision inside her. I knew she was worried that she hadn’t stepped in when she should have helped.

  Her voice was a whisper when she said, “It’s just not like him. Mr. Rose has always been so kind. Is still kind when I see him. But with you, it’s like he’s-“

  “We have history,” I explained, cutting her off. “With us, there’s so much you don’t know, and I can’t tell you.”

  Laughing, she averted her eyes. “Don’t you think I know that by now? He’s marked you, Lisbeth.”

  In more ways than one, I thought.

  “We should get to work,” she muttered, her eyes drifting to me, to the server uniform I still wore. “Although you’ll need new clothes.”

  Embarrassment tinged my cheeks. “A bra and panties as well.”

  My suitcases were still in Callan’s room, which meant I had nothing to change into. Not that there was much left. Callan had a habit of ripping clothes away from me, destroying them as he laid claim to my body.

  Poor Holly. She knew what my comment meant, but was smart enough not to openly say anything.

  “I’ll get some for you.”

  On quick feet, she left the room. It took fifteen minutes for her to return with everything I needed. After I was dressed, I met her in the hall, and we went about our usual routine of getting breakfast and grabbing a supply cart to begin cleaning whatever areas we were assigned.

  After tending to the common areas of the first floor for a few hours, Holly glanced at me, her expression falling.

  “Our last area is the lower floor main hallways.”

  A rattle shook my shoulders. I wanted to believe Callan’s assertion that those women were there voluntarily, that they were paid for the show they put on, but I couldn’t get the vision out of my head of their tears - of the red strap welts across their bodies.

  “We don’t have to go into the actual rooms,” Holly assured me. “So, we won’t see much. Just grit your teeth.”

  I wondered if Holly knew they weren’t there unwillingly, or if Callan was happy for the staff to believe the women truly were slaves stolen from their life.

  Judging by Holly’s expression, it was the latter.

  I squared my shoulders, sucked in a steadying breath and blew it out slowly.

  “Let’s go.”

  We took the service elevator so we could bring the cart, the door sliding open with a warning ding. For the feel of this place, it should have been a buzzer, one of those loud, obnoxious noises you hear as a barred door is slid aside in a prison. The lower floors needed the type of sound that warned of danger ahead.

  The wheels of the cart squeaked and rattled over the scarred wooden floors, my mind flashing back to the night Callan carried me down here. It was so different from the opulence of the Rose mansion. Gone was the sparkling white marble and chair rail walls, and in their place was a dark foreboding, the walls a deep cement grey, as if they’d recently been sprayed down with a hose.

  I jumped when Holly spoke, her voice low as if anything louder would draw attention.

  “We only need to sweep the floors. There’s no furniture to be polished. Or windows to scrub.”

  Nodding, I grabbed a broom and went about cleaning the floors. Rounding a corner, I lost sight of Holly, but a noise caught my attention, the slow click of heels approaching.

  Lifting my head, I recognized the sultry sway of full hips, the shine of dark hair and the curve of seductive red lips.

  It was the woman from the gym, the same woman I understood now had been the one brought out for Callan after the fight. You couldn’t look at her without knowing her body.

  “Lisbeth Rose,” she purred, her eyes scanning my uniform before returning to my face. “I’m surprised to see you down here.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she asked, “Has Callan had enough of you?”

  Something dark flashed behind her eyes, there and then gone again.

  “I can only hope,” I answered.

  Surprise flittered across her expression. “I hear he’s taking you without permission. Is it true?”

  Her gaze drifted down to the bruises on my neck, to a bite mark that was fading. “He’s marked you.”

  Nodding my head, I wanted to turn away from her and run upstairs, but I couldn’t break her stare for whatever reason.

  She stepped closer, the bottom hem of her short skirt fluttering out with the movement.

  Voice
low, she leaned into me and said, “I might make a living spreading my legs for men and pretending I hate it, but I’m not okay with rape. No woman should be subjected to that level of violence.”

  My heart lurched. Callan hadn’t raped me. Not physically anyway. What he was doing to my head was a different story.

  The woman’s eyes flicked past my shoulder and back to me. “I can help you escape.”

  She had my attention then.

  “Why would you help me?”

  The woman didn’t need to answer. I could see it all over her face. She wanted Callan, and I was getting in the way.

  But still, her words hung between us as a tempting bauble, shining and glimmering with the offer I reach out and touch it, even if I didn’t know where I’d go if I left the mansion. It was all I’d wanted since the day Callan dragged me from my room…wasn’t it?

  Could she really get me out? And if so, how long would it be before Callan found me?

  But then I remembered he hadn’t found me the last time. I’d been the stupid woman to return. A spark of bravery ignited, setting flames rolling inside me. I wanted out of this life, this place, and this woman might be the key to my freedom.

  So, why did my heart hurt again to think she would take my place? That she would be the warm body curled up beside Callan in his bed.

  It couldn’t matter. He was slowly eating away at me and getting inside my head. One week and already I was fighting the idea of leaving him.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  “Why do you think?” she asked, her eyes rolling. “But I can get you out. Tonight, if you want.”

  “How? Every door is guarded and locked.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Jacob’s on guard duty tonight.”

  The bravery bled out of me, and every hope I had of getting away bled with it. Jacob, the same guy who’d dropped me on my face and told Callan to use me. There was no way in hell he’d let me go.

  “Jacob hates me.”

  She laughed. “That may be true, but he doesn’t hate Haley. She can lead him away from the door. And I know the code.”

  The hope came back, stronger than before. It wasn’t that I hated Callan. It was the opposite, in fact. He still made my heart bleed, still had some odd power to destroy me. And maybe that’s why I needed to leave. I was losing myself to the way he toyed with me, the girl I’d once been being shoved to her knees like I’d done to him.