The Vanity of Roses

by Lily White

  It was enough. I’d had enough.

  And while Callan couldn’t seem to pull himself back from the edge of the death he was delivering, the woman beside me let go of my hand to run after him, daring to step up behind him and say exactly what I was thinking.

  “Callan, stop. He’s dead. You’ve done enough.”

  He spun to face her, his shoulders and chest beating with heavy breath, blood and sweat dripping from the ends of his dark hair. Crimson rivulets flowed down his arms and face, his eyes narrowing on the woman with such ferocious intent that I feared for her in that moment.

  She didn’t move, her face tipped up to his as he stared down.

  Maybe it was because my eyes were unfocused that I didn’t recognize what I should have seen. Or maybe it was the shock and pain that kept me from understanding why both of them stood so still it was like looking at a photograph rather than at two living people.

  The room was deafeningly silent, the tension broken when Callan parted his lips, his deep voice like rolling thunder through a large room that suddenly felt so small.

  “Where’s Lisbeth?”

  The woman didn’t turn to look at me, her eyes locked to his as she pointed toward where she’d left me.

  Callan hesitated for only a second, an expression on his face that I couldn’t read, a push and pull between them that I couldn’t comprehend.

  It was as if a spell had been broken when he finally moved away from her, and as I watched him come toward me, I realized Haley had been right in what she told me about watching a man walk toward you out of the ring.

  It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. You couldn’t look at the evidence of the battle he’d fought and not fear the danger that walked toward you.

  But even that fear was nothing more than a flicker against what the sight did to everything female and soft inside me.

  All my pain drifted away as he approached, our gazes tangling together as he dropped to crouch beside me.

  His eyes assessed the damage to my head, narrowing on the blood in my hair. But those hands I’d just watched tear another man apart were so gentle when he reached out to touch me.

  “Are we dead?” he asked, the odd question causing my brows to tug together, my stomach to clench.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Callan leaned forward and brushed his mouth across my lips in a soft kiss that sent a shiver down my spine.

  His voice a whisper, he trapped my eyes with his.

  “We have to be,” he said.

  “Why?”

  His eyes blinked slowly, opening again with something behind them I didn’t understand.

  “Because that’s the only reason I can think of for why my mother is here.”

  Callan

  Another week passed after the night I ended the life of Antonio Moritze. I’d spent most of my time walking between Jacob’s room and Lisbeth’s, too many hours speaking to medical staff as they kept me updated on the only two people that mattered.

  Jacob had surgery to repair his knee, while Lisbeth took too long to recover from her head injury.

  I was a ticking bomb in those first few days, a tension so taut that one wrong move would have broken the tenuous restraint I held on my temper.

  Focusing on Jacob and Lisbeth allowed me to ignore the secrets revealed to me, allowed me to slowly understand and digest the true depths of the Rose family lies.

  Standing against the wall in a large central conference room that was too tight, too enclosed, too packed with a group of people who shouldn’t have been possible, I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowed my eyes, a muscle in my jaw jumping each time I ground my teeth together.

  I could barely look at a particular woman who had betrayed me worst of all.

  “Tell me again,” I demanded, my voice calm despite the underlying warning.

  Franklin relaxed back in his seat, the heavy sigh he released in chorus with the creak of the leather chair.

  “We’ve told you two times already-“

  My eyes met his.

  “I seem to remember threatening to kill you the next time I found out you lied to me. The fact that you’re still breathing says a lot about the restraint I’m showing at the moment. Don’t push your luck.”

  His mouth slammed shut, the color draining from his face, not from fear but in reaction to my disgust.

  How fucking dare they stare back at me like they hadn’t conspired to lie? To deceive? To toy with my life without ever stopping to consider what it would do to me?

  Not just to me.

  To Lisbeth as well.

  She may have been the pampered princess in this fucked up family, but her life had been dragged through the same mud.

  My eyes flicked to my mother, my love for her warring with the hatred I felt for allowing me to believe she was dead for ten years. Pure heartbreak shone in her expression, sorrow for what she’d done. It didn’t help calm me even a little.

  I locked my stare on Franklin, my words slow, every syllable lined with the naked blade of my anger.

  “Explain it again.”

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, he said, “We were trying to protect the family-“

  “From the fucking beginning,” I roared, not in the mood for his abbreviated version of events.

  Silence bled through the room, three sets of eyes staring at me, each with their own reason for the guilt reflected in their expressions.

  Franklin sat at the head of the table.

  My mother to his right.

  Gretchen to his left.

  “Well, if we’re telling this story on a timeline, I guess it begins when Gretchen was abducted and brought in as a slave.”

  My jaw ticked, a seething hatred inside me for what that bastard, Marcus, had done to her.

  “Your mother and you hadn’t yet started working at the mansion, which is obvious considering you weren’t born yet.”

  Staring at anything besides the people sitting at the table, I studied my shoes, the scuffs in the leather, the shine of the marble floors beneath them as he spoke.

  “Marcus took liberty with the slaves,” Franklin explained, “and Gretchen became pregnant with Lisbeth. Obviously, something so scandalous couldn’t be allowed to become public, so rather than taking the chance of releasing Gretchen to raise the child, Katrina decided to adopt the child and raise her as her own.”

  “That was the first lie,” I commented. “One Lisbeth still doesn’t know about.”

  Gretchen’s voice shook when she offered, “I can tell her.”

  I cut my head to the left, my eyes meeting hers.

  “No. I’ll tell her. I’m not sure I can trust any of you to be completely honest at this point.”

  She nodded, her hand toying with the charm of her necklace.

  Before Franklin continued, I pointed out, “An entire life based on lies and secrets. And for what? Vanity? To protect the reputation of a family that has no right to consider themselves better than the lives destroyed in the process?”

  Throat moving to swallow that truth, Franklin asked, “Shall I continue?”

  I nodded my head, staring at my shoes again while I processed every word.

  “When Lisbeth was older, your mother and you arrived. As you well know, you were assigned as a servant for Lisbeth.”

  “A whipping boy,” I corrected him.

  He grew quiet, nodded his head.

  “Yes. What was done to you should never have been allowed. And as the years rolled on, Marcus devolved into something none of us recognized. He began tearing the family apart, driving us to financial ruin. Since I was the person managing everything, I knew that something drastic needed to happen before we all were destroyed in the process.”

  My mother spoke up, a soft voice that was a razor against my nerve endings.

  “We wanted what was best for both Lisbeth and you. You have to understand that.”

  “What was best?”

  My eyes shot to her, my body moving fo
rward as I slammed my hands down on the table.

  “I tortured her when she first came back here because I thought she was the reason you were dead. I could have killed her.”

  “But you didn’t,” she answered, her resolve unwavering. “I knew you wouldn’t. You loved her too much.”

  Franklin cleared his throat, the sound drawing my attention. Despite the rage sparking around me with electric fury, he met my stare.

  “I asked your mother to slip drugs into the champagne the night of Lisbeth’s ball. Not enough to kill, just enough so everybody who drank it would pass out. We never thought you’d drink it as well.”

  My thoughts raced back to the night this all started, to the first time I challenged the rules by staring Lisbeth in the face and finishing her glass of champagne. That’s how I ended up asleep among the slaughter.

  I should have demanded to see my mother’s body. Shouldn’t have been so willing to believe she was actually dead unless I saw it for myself.

  “Anyway, your mother, worried for what would become of you, and she only agreed to help me if I promised to adopt you and make you a Rose. She wanted you to have the resources, the power. Lisbeth...”

  My shoulders flexed at her name, at the memory of what I’d done to her when she returned.

  “We didn’t know Katrina found out Lisbeth was being given to Sergio Moritze. She was never supposed to take off with her that night. She slipped out while we were preparing to-“

  “Systematically execute every person in that room,” I said, lifting my eyes to him.

  “It was the only way to protect Lisbeth and to protect you. If your mother were alive, I couldn’t have adopted you without questions being asked. So, we staged her death.”

  Gaze snapping to my mother, I said, “And you ran off to hunt for Lisbeth. Did Katrina scream much when you killed her?”

  Her lips pulled into a thin line.

  “It looked like an accident. I knew Lisbeth would return here, and it was only fair that Gretchen have the chance to know her daughter. It was only fair that you have the chance to love the woman you’d chased after your entire life.”

  Dragging my gaze between them, I asked, “Were you ever planning to tell me any of this?”

  All three of their expressions fell, the truth that they’d never planned for me to know obvious.

  Still, anger boiled inside of me. My stare locking on Franklin.

  “Why did you all but demand I hurt Lisbeth when she came back? Why not encourage what you were supposedly after?”

  His blank expression in place, his eyes were steady.

  “Have you met yourself? Have you met Lisbeth? Both of you are as stubborn as mules. And I knew that you would do the exact opposite of anything I told you. You always do. I pushed you together by pretending to shove you apart.”

  He had me there, but it still didn’t excuse the lies.

  Gretchen spoke next, her voice concerned. “How will you tell Lisbeth about me? Will you admit all of it?”

  Nodding my head, I tapped my fingers against the table.

  “Lisbeth already knows she’s the rightful heir of the family. And we’ve both agreed to make changes. Obviously, those who came before us were too wrapped up in bullshit vanity to do the right thing. As for the first change, there will no longer be secrets. No lies. I suggest all of you prepare yourselves for what she decides to do with you. She’ll be making the decisions from now on.”

  A look of concern flashed across my mother’s face. “And what about you?”

  I grinned. “I’ll be the muscle behind whatever decision she makes. If anybody thinks to challenge her, they’ll have to get through me first.”

  Threat made, I shoved away from the table and left the room without saying another word to them. I was too angry, too hurt. Too undecided about how I would tell Lisbeth the truth.

  Needing fresh air, I stormed through the mansion slamming doors in my path, my steps a war drum against the floors.

  The second I entered the courtyard, I fisted my hands and turned my face up to the sun. The heat of it helped to warm the cold chill of rage in my body, helped calm me down enough that I didn’t begin tearing walls down to destroy this house.

  Wandering through the courtyard, I wove my way through the maze, enjoyed the solace of being alone, the sweet scent of blooming flowers. I reached the exit and stood staring out at the forest that bordered the mansion, my mind trapped in memories of the past and questions of the future.

  So lost to thought, I’d missed the sound of Lisbeth walking up behind me.

  “You look like you could use a friend right now.”

  Turning to look at her, my eyes dropped to the white rose she spun between her fingers, my breath catching when she reached forward.

  “I picked this for you.”

  My mouth curled at the significance of the flower, at the story wrapped in so simple a phrase.

  Taking it from her, I stared at the bloom, my eyes lifting to lock with two blue pools filled with the same heartache I had in mine.

  “You deserve better than what I’ve given you.”

  She laughed, rolling her eyes.

  “I can say the same. We both have many apologies to make. But there are plenty of years ahead of us to accomplish it.”

  Tucking the flower behind her ear, I cupped her cheeks and tipped her face to mine. My mouth brushed hers, my body becoming hard as hers grew soft.

  Our foreheads pressed together, our voices a whisper of sound.

  “I still plan to torture you. Lock you in the dungeon when I feel it’s necessary.”

  A shiver coursed down her body. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

  I growled in response to the implied challenge.

  For over an hour, I’d struggled with how to tell her the truth, but now I knew there was no other way than to come out with it. Like ripping a bandage off, I had to shed the past so we could worry about the present.

  “My mother is alive.”

  She nodded, holding my stare. “I know. Will you forgive her?”

  It would take time to get over the betrayal, but I knew I would eventually get past the anger and hurt.

  “Yes. But you’ll need to forgive her as well.”

  The skin between her eyes wrinkled in confusion. “Why?”

  “She killed Katrina so that you would come back.”

  Lisbeth’s eyes widened. “What? But my mom died in a car accident.”

  Gripping my hands on her hips, I held her in place, concerned she would run at the next truth.

  “Katrina wasn’t your mother.”

  More shock tore through her, her mouth falling open and closing again. A shake of her head as if fighting to make sense of it.

  I stepped into her, refusing to sugarcoat the truth. “Gretchen is your mom.”

  “What?”

  Her voice came out on a shriek, disbelief flashing in her eyes.

  “They set us up,” I explained. “The entire thing, to get us to this point.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Nodding, I held on to her, refusing to ever let go again.

  Lisbeth stood silent for several minutes, her mind processing what I’d told her.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Franklin killed everybody on the night of your ball. Other than that, there’s nothing else.”

  She blinked, cringing as if punched in the face by the truth of her family, but then she shook her head. “I hate this fucking place.”

  Laughter boomed out of me, a smile slashing a wide line across my face because I knew what she meant.

  “Me too,” I agreed, trapping her chin in my hand to kiss her again, my arm slipping around her back to pull her close to me.

  We stood together for a while before she spoke again.

  “What do we do about it? Do we leave?”

  My mouth curled with a better idea.

  “We change it,” I finally said. “And make sure it never happens again.”


  Determination sparked behind a set of eyes, their color a reflection of the sky.

  “I know the first change that needs to be made.”

  Curling my fingers through her hair, I met her stare with the promise to back up any decision she made.

  “Will it piss them off?”

  Her mouth curled with mischief and she nodded.

  I saw her then.

  The wicked bitch.

  The petulant brat.

  A woman determined to turn the world on its head to get everything she wanted.

  I’d once hated that woman. Despised a strength of will that had forced me to my knees.

  But in this moment I realized that I’d loved her that entire time as well because, in many ways, we were the same.

  People tend to hate in others the very thing they have in themselves.

  Leaning down, I whispered against her mouth, a temptation, a tease.

  “Then why don’t we go back to my room for a while, and you can tell me all about your plans?”

  Lisbeth laughed when I dragged her behind me, careful not to drop her to the ground like I’d done in the past.

  Changes would be made. I was certain of that. But when it came to Lisbeth and me, some things were never meant to change at all.

  We fell for each other when battling.

  And we would continue to challenge each other because we wouldn’t be who we were without it.

  Lisbeth

  Outside a set of double doors, a crowd shouted for blood. The loud voices of the audience were a chorus of sound, their eyes locked on two fighters who had stepped into a ring in which only one would eventually walk out.

  Tonight was Callan’s night to move through that lethal dance, my nerves on edge to think what could happen, my fingers curling into my palms with the worry that one night such as this could be his last.

  Eight months had passed since the truth of the Rose family became known to us, eight months in which we’d taken a lesson from the generation before and made changes that we both felt were necessary.

  In truth, there wasn’t much.

  Franklin still managed the daily business affairs of the family, although he did so with the knowledge that Callan would rip him apart if he were every caught lying again.