Novel-novel oleh essenceink002

Daniel's PovFourteen hours. That was the day, start to finish, back-to-back meetings, a deal in Singapore that needed handling at three in the morning my time.The elevator opened onto something different.Flowers sat in a vase on the entry table that had been empty since I moved in. White and yellow, fresh enough that water still clung to the glass. The air smelled like garlic, like something warm had been cooking hours ago and hadn't fully faded yet.I stood there a moment longer than I should have."You're late." Greta appeared from the kitchen, a stack of mail in her hands."Singapore ran long.""Rosa's in her room." She set the mail down on the counter. "She made dinner. Saved you a plate, covered it twice so it wouldn't dry out.""I already ate.""Did you.""Greta.""I'm just making an observation, Mr. Gosling." She didn't smile, but something close to it tugged at her mouth. "The flowers were her idea too. Said the place needed color.""It's fine the way it is.""If you say so

Rosa’s PovOne suitcase sat by the door. That was everything I owned that still mattered.The housekeeper waited near the elevator with her hands folded. Older woman, gray hair pulled back, a uniform pressed so sharp it looked painful."Mrs Gosling?""Rosa is fine.""I'm Greta." She didn't smile, didn't frown either. "Mr. Gosling asked me to show you to your room.""My room.""Down the hall from his." Greta's eyes flicked to my suitcase, then back to my face. "Separate.""Of course it's separate."She led me past white marble floors, past a wall of windows showing half of Manhattan glittering below us, past a kitchen that looked like it had never once been used for actual cooking."This is yours." Greta opened a door onto a room bigger than Sophie's entire apartment. Cream walls. A bed that could fit four people. Not one personal item anywhere."It's beautiful," I said, because it was, and because I didn't know what else to say standing in a stranger's house that was apparently also m

(Daniel’s POV)I stared at the annulment papers sitting on my desk for a long time without touching them.Fourteen days.Fourteen damn days, and I still hadn’t signed them.James leaned against the doorway flipping through my sketchbook like he owned the place. “You’ve drawn her every day since Vegas,” he said, stopping at another page filled with Rosa’s face. “That’s not normal, man.”“I’ll sign them today.” I picked up my pen without looking at him.“You said that yesterday too.”My jaw tightened.James tossed the sketchbook onto the desk. “Just admit you can’t stop thinking about her.”“It was one night,” I said coldly. “A mistake.”Before James could answer, my intercom buzzed.“Mr. Gosling?” my assistant said carefully. “There’s a message from a Rosa Park. She says it’s urgent. From Las Vegas.”Everything inside me froze.The pen slipped from my hand and clattered across the desk.James straightened immediately, eyebrows shooting up.My throat went tight. “What did she say?”“She

(Rosa's POV)The rejection emails all started the same way.Due to recent concerns regarding your professional conduct…I stopped reading them in full after the seventh one. There was no point. The ending was always the same.I closed the laptop and pushed it away from me across Sophie's small kitchen table.Two weeks. Two weeks of this table, this laptop, these emails. Two weeks of Robbie's handiwork spreading through every professional network I had spent six years building.Rosa Park had a mental breakdown at her own wedding. Rosa Park is unstable, unreliable, erratic. I didn't know exactly what she'd said or to whom, but the results were clear. Every translation agency in the city had heard some version of the story.Not one had called back.Sophie came up from the bakery, flour on her apron, hair escaping its bun. She took one look at my face and set two mugs of tea on the table without asking."Any luck?""Blacklisted," I said. "Every single one."Sophie sat down. Wrapped her ha

(Rosa's POV)The sunlight hit me like a punishment.I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them slowly. White ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows.Silk sheets. The expensive kind. Black.I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. My head throbbed like something inside it was trying to get out. My body ached in ways that were specific and came with memories attached, warm hands, gray eyes.I pressed both palms to my face.The other side of the bed was empty. Cold. Like no one had been there for hours.A knock at the door. It opened before I could say anything. A hotel maid in a neat uniform stepped in carrying fresh towels, saw me clutching a silk sheet to my chest, and didn't even blink."Good morning, Mrs. Gosling. Can I get you anything?"I stared at her. "Mrs. Gosling?""Mr. Gosling left early for his flight back to New York." She set the towels down with the practiced ease of someone who had seen everything. "He said to tell you checkout is at noon."My eyes went to the nightstan

(Daniel’s POV)I had rules.No unnecessary attachments. No emotional entanglements. No situations I couldn't control and exit cleanly.I had broken every single one of them in the last three hours.The elevator doors opened directly into my penthouse suite, and Rosa stepped inside ahead of me. She stopped at the windows. The entire Vegas Strip spread out below us, and she stood in the middle of it looking like something that didn't belong in my world at all.She was still half-wearing her wedding dress under the borrowed jacket. The woman had married two men today. One who ran. One who should have.She turned around."This is really happening," she whispered.Something about the way she said it cut through the last layer of whiskey and logic I had left.I crossed the room and framed her face in my hands. Her skin was warm. Her brown eyes were steady, burning, completely unafraid despite everything they'd seen today."Do you want it to?" I asked."Yes." No pause. No performance. Just y