65 Roses Condition Novels & Stories

The red rose, symbolizing love and passion, mirrored the fiery energy of their connection. Kaia, surprised and touched by Beau's whimsical move, accepted the rose with a radiant smile. The exchange added a unique and personal touch to their union, creating a moment that would forever be etched in the memories of all who witnessed it. The red rose, now a part of their shared narrative, became a poignant symbol of the spontaneity and romance woven into the fabric of their love story.

She yelled. I sat back, my head ringing with a touch of madness. Black roses. A dead cat. The same exact things that had happened to me. My mouth went dry. "Zara, what did the roses look like exactly?" "What do you mean what did they look like? They were black roses, Aria. Dead, withered, horrible black roses with a note that said 'You're next.'" My flowers had been fresh roses. Did the difference in our roses make a difference?

Maisie silently gazed at Rose, patiently waiting for her to proceed. "The first condition is that you apologize to me and my aunt for what happened before," Rose stated firmly. Maisie listened calmly. After a sip of her tea, she calmly inquired, "And what's the second?" Rose's eyes instinctively darted toward Andrew. Seeing his captivating face and noble demeanor, her breathing quickened slightly, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her heart. Rose bit her lower lip. "And I want him..." Andrew frowned slightly, and his dark eyes were cold enough to freeze. Sensing a chill in his gaze, Rose couldn't help but clasp her hands tightly in her lap.

Its a pity he's out of town. I hope she cooperates because if she doesn't, I will have to use other means which may not be favourable for a fragile little thing like her. ROSELLE'S POV Six cameras. Barred windows. Three security guards outside the room. Where the hell am I?? Who are these people?? What do they want??

If there's anything I know about our world, it's that the need to relive your victory is far too great that sometimes the majority toss away common sense just to have the opportunity to gloat. I hope this would be no different. I hope I would be knuckles deep in some bastard's stomach by this time tomorrow. The attendant shakes his head, his entire face covered in sweat as he looks at me and looks away repeatedly. Fucking pussy. Yet, I don't blame him. It isn't everyday one could see a member or even two of The Black Rose without dying afterwards. But then again, it isn't every time one sees a member of The Black Rose in a fucking freezer.

Getting back on my feet, I made my way towards the bath where a few other maids were waiting for me already as the intoxicating smell of roses became a part of the atmosphere. I got out of the bath smelling myself as the sharp scent of roses had deeply penetrated my skin. Water dripped down my fair skin as I stood up and walked away from the bath. When I was done with everything, I saw a maid bringing an extravagant light pink gown which had white butterflies and flowers decorated all over the bodice as the skirt was quite puffy and pretty. I noticed that Mrs.Hanzah tied the corset a bit tighter than usual. My hair was styled into a formal braided bun as I looked marvelous. Walking towards t

Before I could clear the threshold of the front door, a sharp movement at the top of the stairs caught my eye. Rodah was standing by the balustrade, her fingers gripping the polished wood until her knuckles were white. The dark silk robe was tied loosely around her waist, exposing the smooth, flushed skin of her neck and chest. Her green eyes weren't filled with the terrified submission most women would show during a cartel hit. They were furious. She was angry at the intrusion, angry at her own vulnerability, and deeply sobered by the realization that her defiance had kicked off this entire avalanche. The raw, aggressive chemistry between us was still there, vibrating through the open space

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."

I went back to my room, and just then, the doorbell rang. Mary went to answer it, and after a moment, she returned, beaming as she held a massive bouquet of roses. "Miss White, look! Someone sent you flowers!" The roses were a stunning blend of soft pink and white—Swedish Queen Roses, full and luxurious. I recognized the name because I had been seeing videos about these expensive and extravagant roses lately. Circling around the bouquet, I estimated there were at least fifty or sixty blooms. Mary grinned. "See? Mr. Wynn really cares about you. He hasn’t even arrived yet, but the roses are already here."

Before he left, he said, “See you another day!” Smiling, Eva replied, “Drive safe, Mason.” Not long after Mason left, another customer came into the shop. It was a young man in simple exercise sportswear. He asked Eva anxiously the moment he stepped in, “Miss, do you have roses available? I need about 500.” Eva looked over in astonishment. “I’m sorry, Mister. I don’t have that many roses right now.” Business had been good at her shop, and it was already evening. Not many flowers were in stock, much less 500 roses.