THE ROSE TATTOO, The Billionaire Secret Heir

ANDREA’S POV

I stood in front of the mirror in the small apartment I shared with Marcus, smoothing down the emerald green dress that hugged my curves. The fabric shimmered under the warm light, and I turned slowly, checking the back one more time. Tonight marked four years with him. Four years of late-night study sessions where I helped him finish his business plans, four years of dipping into my savings to cover his gaps when clients paid late. Tonight he would finally propose. I felt it in my bones.

My phone buzzed. A text from my best friend, Riley: Andrea, hurry up! The whole crew is here and Marcus has been smiling like he swallowed a secret.

I grinned, grabbed my clutch, and stepped out into the warm evening air. The party venue sat only a few blocks away, a cozy rooftop spot Marcus had booked himself. He had insisted on handling everything this year. That alone told me something big was coming.

Laughter and music floated up as I climbed the stairs. String lights twinkled overhead. Balloons in my favorite soft pink and gold drifted near the railing. Friends turned when they saw me, raising glasses and cheering.

“Happy birthday, Andrea!” they called.

Riley rushed over first, pulling me into a tight hug. Her blonde hair smelled like vanilla shampoo, the same one we used to share in college. “You’re glowing. Marcus won’t know what hit him.”

I laughed and squeezed her back. “He better not. Where is he?”

“Over by the bar, acting all mysterious.” She winked, but something in her smile looked tight. I brushed it off. Nerves. We all felt them tonight.

Marcus appeared through the crowd, tall and sharp in a black button-down that made his shoulders look even broader. His dark eyes locked on mine, and for a second the noise faded. This was the man I had fought for. The one whose dreams I had carried when he wanted to give up. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it used to.

“Hey, birthday girl.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek. His lips felt cool. “You look beautiful.”

I slipped my hand into his. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

He gave my fingers a quick squeeze and glanced away. “Just wait. The night’s only starting.”

We moved through the party together. People kept coming up to hug me, share old stories, and hand me drinks. I sipped champagne and let the bubbles tickle my throat. Every few minutes I caught Marcus watching me, then looking toward Riley. She hovered nearby, checking her phone too often. My stomach fluttered with anticipation. He had something planned. I could feel the electricity in the air.

Dinner came and went. Cake appeared on a central table, tall and white with delicate gold drips. Twenty-seven candles flickered across the top. I stood beside Marcus, my heart hammering so hard I worried everyone could hear it. This was the moment.

He cleared his throat and tapped a spoon against his glass. The rooftop quieted. All eyes turned to us.

“Andrea,” he began, his voice steady. I beamed at him, already imagining the ring box in his pocket. “Four years is such a long time. You’ve been an important part of my life.”

My throat tightened with happy tears. I stepped closer.

“You taught me a lot about loyalty, sacrifice, and friendship,” he said, holding my hand. “And because of that, I finally had the courage to admit who I really love.”

Then he turned away from me, walked two steps and stopped in front of Riley. My best friend. The one who had cried with me during every rough patch, who knew exactly how much I had sacrificed.

He dropped to one knee.

The world narrowed to the sharp click of his knee hitting the wooden deck.

“Riley,” he said, pulling out a small black box, “from the first time we really saw each other, I knew in my heart that you are the one for me. Will you marry me?”

Riley’s hands flew to her mouth. Tears—real tears—glistened in her eyes. She nodded quickly. “Yes. God, yes.”

The rooftop exploded in applause and cheers. Phones came out. Someone popped another bottle of champagne. The noise crashed over me like a wave. Nobody looked shocked, nobody looked confused, nobody asked questions. They already knew.

I stood frozen in my emerald dress, a smile still plastered on my face while everything inside me cracked open. The candles on my birthday cake danced behind them. Twenty-seven tiny flames celebrating nothing.

No one looked at me. Not really. They surged forward to congratulate the happy couple. Marcus rose and kissed Riley deeply, the same way he used to kiss me. Her hands gripped his shoulders like she had done it a hundred times before.

My legs moved on their own. I turned, pushed through the crowd, and descended the stairs. Someone called my name—maybe Riley, maybe not. I didn’t stop. Rain had started falling, fat cold drops that soaked through my dress within seconds. I flagged down a cab, climbed inside, and gave the driver the name of a bar I had only heard about.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay, miss?”

I stared out the window as city lights blurred. “Just drive.”

Inside the bar, dim lights and low music wrapped around me. I slid onto a stool at the far end, water dripping from my hair onto the polished wood. The bartender, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, set a napkin in front of me.

“What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey. Neat. Make it a double.”

He poured without comment. I lifted the glass and threw the liquid back in one burning swallow. Heat spread through my chest. I tapped the bar.

“Another.”

He hesitated. “Rough night?”

“You have no idea.” My voice came out raw. “Keep them coming.”

I lost count after the fourth. The room tilted gently as memories flashed: Marcus laughing in our kitchen while I cooked his favorite meals, late nights where I stayed up typing his proposals, the way he promised we were building something real. All of it for nothing. Everyone knew he was having an affair with her. I was the only fool who didn’t.

The bartender set down another glass. “Miss, maybe you should slow down. You’ve had quite a few.”

“Mind your business,” I snapped, then softened. “Just… tell me the damage. How much do I owe?”

He glanced down the bar, surprised. “It’s already covered. The guy at the end picked up your tab.”

I turned slowly on the stool. The movement made the room spin, but I focused. A man sat alone in the shadows where the light barely reached. Broad shoulders under a dark shirt, sharp jaw, and eyes that watched me with calm intensity. He didn’t look like he belonged in a noisy bar. He looked like he owned the whole damn city and simply chose to sit here.

He stood and walked toward me, each step carried quiet confidence. Rain still clung to my skin, but suddenly I felt warm and different. The kind of different that came from deciding good girls finished last and I was done with last place.

He stopped beside my stool. Up close he smelled like cedar and something darker. I could see the tail of a black serpent tattoo peeking from beneath his sleeve. His gaze moved over my tear-streaked face and ruined the dress without pity.

“You should slow down,” he said, his voice low and steady.

I laughed, the sound brittle. “Slow down? How do I slow down when my boyfriend… of four years… decided to propose to my best friends in front of all our friends… on my birthday.” The words tumbled out, fueled by whiskey and pain. “Tell me, stranger. Why exactly should I slow down?”

He didn’t flinch. He simply listened, those dark eyes never leaving mine. There was no judgment, no rushed comfort, just presence.

And that was when the craziest idea struck me.

I slid off the stool and stepped closer. My breasts brushed his chest as I steadied myself against him. Heat rolled off his body. I tilted my head up.

“Tell me,” I whispered, my voice thick, “what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

He held my gaze. “I don’t do crazy.”

A reckless smile curved my lips as I took his hand. His fingers closed around mine, firm and warm.

“Then tonight can be your first time.”