Chapter Five

Rose Alexandria Sinclair;

The moment Frederico released me, I didn’t hesitate—I bolted. My legs moved faster than my thoughts, carrying me as far away from his cold presence as I could manage. I stumbled into the room and collapsed onto the bed, overwhelmed by a rush of tears that seemed to drown me whole.

What hurt the most wasn’t just being in his service—it was the emptiness in his eyes. The same eyes that had once held warmth now only reflected anger, disdain, and irritation. His words had been sharp, cutting through me like daggers, each one worse than the last. My stomach churned with the weight of it.

“Are you crying?” a faint voice asked, cutting through the silence. I shook my head quickly, but the lump in my throat betrayed me.

“Yes, you are, foolish girl,” the voice continued, soft but firm. “It’s okay to cry. Come on, let it out—cry if it hurts!”

The dam inside me broke, and I sobbed harder, burying my face into the mattress. A scream tore from my throat, raw and unrestrained, releasing the anger and pain that had been consuming me.

“Now that’s better,” the voice said, her tone lighter. I lifted my head cautiously and turned toward her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face lit with a warm, angelic smile. She was... beautiful.

“Thank you,” I whispered, wiping my tears.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her grin widening.

“Gambler’s girl…” I murmured, completing her thought. She chuckled softly, her laugh like a balm on my frayed nerves.

“Forgive me, but what’s your name?” she asked, leaning back against the wall casually.

“Rose. I’m Rose. What about you?”

“Natalie.” Her smile deepened as she cupped my face gently. “You’re lonely, Rose. I’m lonely too. Let’s be friends, hmm? Actually, no—you don’t get to decide. We’re best friends now!”

A laugh bubbled out of me before I could stop it, loud and unrestrained.

“You’re insane!” I said, shaking my head at her antics.

“Absolutely,” she agreed with a wink. “Oh, by the way, I’m your roommate.”

My laughter slowed as relief washed over me. “Oh, thank God! I was so worried I’d end up with… you know, one of those girls.”

“Jessica and her gang?” Natalie’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Ugh, those animals!”

“Yeah, especially the blonde one…”

“Jessica,” Natalie clarified. “She’s one of the oldest maids here, and let’s just say she’s… close with the Boss. You know what I mean, right?”

I frowned, confused. “No, not really…”

Natalie blinked at me, then burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you’re serious? She’s the mansion whore, Rose! That kind of close.”

“Oh…” My eyes widened as realization dawned.

Natalie’s laughter turned mischievous as she leaned in. “Stick with me, bestie. I’ll teach you how to survive this place.”

“Yeah, sure!” I said with a shrug, but the sudden beeping of my wristwatch cut through the moment. Time for work.

“Aww, duty calls! See you later, Rosè,” Natalie said with a playful pout, waving me off. I chuckled softly and left.

It was time to clean the hallway and stairs—the most dreaded chore in this entire house. Just thinking about it made me groan inwardly.

Grabbing the cleaning supplies, I headed toward the hallway, already bracing myself for the endless scrubbing. But as I approached, a voice—sharp and angry—echoed through the house.

It was Frederico. I didn’t need to see him to know; the way my heart dropped was proof enough.

Curiosity and fear warred within me as I crept closer to the living room. Peeking around the corner, I froze.

There he was, standing tall and menacing, a gun aimed at a man’s head. The poor guy was restrained by two security guards, his hands pinned behind his back.

Frederico’s voice cut through the air, harsh and commanding, speaking rapid Italian I couldn’t understand.

And then it happened.

*Boom!*

The gun went off, and I flinched as the deafening sound ripped through the room. Blood splattered across Frederico’s face, painting a grotesque picture. My stomach churned violently, and I had to clutch the wall to steady myself.

As if sensing my presence, Frederico turned sharply, his cold, unrelenting gaze locking onto mine.

For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes were ice—void of emotion, yet so full of something dark and terrifying that I felt paralyzed.

What kind of demon had taken hold of this man? And why couldn’t I look away?

He rolled his eyes at me before walking off, leaving a suffocating tension in his wake. I swallowed hard, stepping out cautiously as the guards dragged the lifeless body away. The sight was nauseating, the metallic stench of blood lingering in the air, making my stomach churn.

Some maids rushed in, scrubbing the crimson stains off the floor with frantic energy. I hissed under my breath, annoyed and shaken, and turned to head upstairs.

But the moment I reached the top, my heart sank. There he was—Frederico.

He leaned casually against the railing, but his presence was anything but relaxed. His predatory smirk sent a cold shiver down my spine, and my palms grew clammy. It was as if he’d been waiting for me.

Lowering my gaze, I stepped aside, keeping as much distance as possible, and got to work. Yet, I could *feel* his eyes on me, sharp and unrelenting. My hands trembled as I scrubbed, my nerves unraveling with every passing second.

“Why are you staring at me?” I mumbled under my breath, barely loud enough to be heard.

There was no response.

I risked a glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, his piercing gaze was locked on me, unwavering and cold.

For a while, I tried to focus on my task, pretending he wasn’t there, but his presence loomed, suffocating and inescapable. Then, suddenly, I felt it—him moving closer.

His scent hit me first, intoxicating and overwhelming. It was maddening, a mixture of power and danger that made my knees weak.

I froze as his hand brushed against my neck, his fingers trailing slowly, deliberately.

“You should be careful…” His voice was low, rough, and dangerously close to my ear. “I hate when my property gets scratched.”

My breath hitched as his words sank in, each one dripping with possessive venom. Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me reeling.

Property? His property? My hand flew to my neck instinctively. Was there a scratch I hadn’t noticed, or was he just playing mind games?