65 Roses Condition Novels & Stories

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 give them to her. "I love roses but the fact you brought the red ones scores you another point in my book." she smells them. "Good to know that." I grin. "But you know you needn't have brought them anyway." she stares. "I wanted to." I reply. I was passing this flower shop when I saw these good looking roses. My mind immediately went to Della and I knew I had to get her a bouquet. "Okay. A minute, I need to put these in a vase." I wait for her from outside before she returns all set. We get inside the car and I fire the engine to the busy street.

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."

“While you were away. Lord Rustyn. He brought something from Lady Celia and the queen.” My jaw tightens. But my eyes are on the roses. Even in winter, the cursed things bloom. Blue roses that climb the black stone walls, their petals sharp against the frost. They wither and bloom in ghostly cycles, yet never touch the ground. Always vanishing midair, leaving behind only that sweet and rotten scent. It clings to your throat, making you feel the misery etched deep within it. “Rogues?” I ask, eyes narrowing on a cluster of petals curling into vapor.

The hotel staff also brought up the prepared ninety-nine roses. According to Oskian customs, ninety-nine means forever, which was an excellent symbol of love. Fortunately, the flowers prepared by the hotel concierge were all very well-known top varieties, each of which was very fresh, delicate, and flawless. At this time, Yashita’s eyelashes fluttered slightly in the bathtub. Rosalie, who had not taken even half a step away, realized that her mother would wake up soon. So, she quickly headed to the right side of the bathtub, gently reached out her hand, and followed her mother’s right shoulder as she searched all the way in the mud.

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.