14 Roses Novels & Stories

The sentiment expressed was so personal, so full of love, that it seemed to fit perfectly with the gifts. She smiled, her heart lifting at the thought of Alexander going out of his way to make her feel special. She took a moment to admire the bouquet, its vibrant colors and fragrant petals creating a beautiful contrast against the subtle gloom that had settled over her. The roses were a deep red, each bloom carefully arranged and tied with a delicate ribbon.

“I… told Raven I wanted fewer roses.” “What?” Adolph asked, stopping them. She sighed and looked up at him to meet his gaze. “I don’t want there to be any… confusion about it is all.” “How many less? Less than what?” Laurel grimaced, “I was thinking four at most.” “No.” “Raven already said I had to have at least seven…” “No,” Adolph shook his head. “You should have all nine.” “That’s not necessary.” “I think it is.” Laurel glowered at him, “Then you carry the bouquet.”

“Wow.” I blush and smile. I have never felt more beautiful than I do in this moment, with his eyes locked on me. He meets my eyes and smiles at me, making my tummy flutter. “You look so amazingly beautiful.” He offers me a bouquet of roses from behind his back. There are forty-eight prefect red roses and I gasp in delight. “Roses! My favorite.” “I'm glad you like them.” He stands tall and gallantly offers me his arm, which I accept, sliding my arm through his.

"You just said that there are many flowers in total, how many?" "There are 99,999 pink roses. Pink roses represent youth and liveliness, which means that in the other party's heart, you will always be the original appearance." The words that sent the flowers not only shocked Cecelia, but also provided Cecelia with a very important piece of information, which was... This sentence, which had always been what it used to be, reminded her of Cyrus all of a sudden.

“Any preferences?” “Roses.” Lucas typed away on his phone. “Black roses to be exact.” It is the perfect flower and color for apologizing. She can’t be mad at me for long if I keep seeing dozens of flowers in her office every day. “Add chocolate to the list.” Angela loves chocolate.

Inside, rows and rows of blooming roses stretched like a sea of red. The upper half of the glass roof reflected the deep blue of the night sky, while the warm lights inside lit the rose garden in dazzling color. “It’s for you,” Archer said quietly from above her. Aria looked up at him in shock. Was this man actually… being romantic? His face was unreadable, but the tips of his ears had turned a faint shade of red—not that she noticed. He spoke lightly, as if it was no big deal. “There are 999 roses in there. All red, all transplanted. I’ve got the housekeeper checking in on them, and I bring in a specialist now and then. Consider it a Valentines gift.”

He stood beside it, tall and imposing, holding a bouquet of flowers. They were roses—grey matcha forest roses, fresh and elegant, their muted green hues striking yet understated. They suited him perfectly. I stood frozen, watching as he approached. When he handed me the bouquet, his voice was soft, almost tentative. "Are you still angry about the flowers?" I took the roses, my throat tightening. My eyes stung as I lowered my head to inhale their delicate scent. When I looked up at him, I forced a smile, my lips curving despite the ache in my chest.

The short walk to the living room felt like an eternity. As I pushed open the door, a sight of unimaginable beauty greeted me. The room was awash with the vibrant hues of roses. Bouquets upon bouquets of them were scattered everywhere, their velvety petals in shades of red, pink, and white. The sweet, intoxicating fragrance of the roses filled the air, enveloping the room in a warm embrace. The roses were arranged meticulously, their stems trimmed to perfection, their leaves glossy and green. Each bouquet was wrapped in delicate tissue, tied with a satin ribbon. The room was so densely packed with these bouquets that there was barely any space to walk.

I held my breath, breaking out in sweat as his proximity made fear spread through my now shivering frame. "You see... The Black Rose is a bad crowd to stick with. They'll lead you to your death. As a friend and a man who's insanely attracted to you... I advise you to cut all ties with them." His smile remained on his face, his voice still the same low, soft lilt it had been since he started speaking. Yet... There seemed to be venom in every syllable, burning through my skin like acid, making my heart pound painfully against my chest. I was afraid. This man... there was something about him, something sinister. He was going to hurt me. He wanted to hurt me.

Blood roses. Rafael’s hand tightened around the fragile flower, crushing it slowly between his fingers. A symbol. A secret. Not grief. Not loss. Love. Defiance. War. His lips curled into a dangerous smile. "So," he said softly, almost lovingly. "The game has only just begun." He tossed the crushed rose onto the floor, grinding it under his boot. "Bring me Matteo," Rafael ordered, his voice sharp as a whip. "And this time... bring the girl too."