Bed Of Roses Novels & Stories

Marco drove into the gates of La Rosa Nera. The club's neon lights cast an eerie shadow over everything they touched. The club's pathway was a spectacle to behold. An archway adorned with beautiful black roses that resonated with the name of the club, La Rosa Nera (The Black Rose). The petals of these gorgeous flowers glittered and danced under the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a fading sensation of danger that lingered.

He opens up the first dozen roses and begins to tear the pretty red buds off of them. He scatters them in a jagged red path from the bathroom doorway to the rug in front of the fireplace. In the end, he was required to use all the roses except three. He leaves a single one at both the beginning of his path, and one at the end.

I turn over. His side of the bed is empty, which I expected. Of course I expected it. He couldn't have stayed, and I knew that before I ever said stay. But the sheets still hold the impression of him, the faint warmth of a body recently gone, and I reach out and press my palm flat against it like an idiot. Then I see the rose. A single red rose. Petals unfurled and vivid against the white pillowcase, like something bleeding. The smile dies.

The room was… a lot. A massive bed sat in the center, shaped like a heart and covered in red rose petals. More petals were scattered across the floor, leading from the door to the bed in a romantic trail. Candles lined the windowsills and the dresser, all unlit for now but clearly meant to set a mood later. The curtains were drawn back to reveal a private balcony overlooking the ocean. Nora looked around slowly. “What are the flowers for?” she whispered. I forced a smile. “Decoration,” I said.

A drop of tear landed on the back of my hand. I ignored it and made a rose appear out of thin air just like a magician. "When we first started dating, you were nothing but a bouncer. The owner's enemies came looking for trouble. On Valentin's Day, you were severely injured and covered in blood. I was worried sick. I cried helplessly as I looked at your wounds. But what did you do? You pulled out a rose that you had been hiding, and it was covered in blood." Thomas chuckled as he took the rose from me.

I didn’t close my eyes. Morning came with snow. ~ The bedchamber stank of rose oil and crushed mint. His servants must’ve soaked the linens again. I stepped over the silk trail they’d laid from the door to the bed, ignoring the way they shaped the petals into a heart. He stood at the foot of the bed, shoulders bare, robe open, waiting like some offering. “My mother used to say roses mean joy,” he said. “I thought you'd like—” “I don’t like flowers.”

The room was so densely packed with these bouquets that there was barely any space to walk. I stood there, rooted to the spot, my eyes wide with surprise. The sheer number of roses was overwhelming, their beauty breathtaking. The living room, was transformed into a blooming garden. Turning back to look at Billy, I was speechless. My mind was a whirlwind of questions. Who could have sent all these roses? And for what purpose? The sight of the roses, their scent lingering in the air, left me in a state of wonder and disbelief. Before I could even form a question about the sea of roses, Billy spoke up. "I've been receiving these since 6 in the morning. All for you," he said, his voice filled wi

"I know Saffron has been hard at work on your gown, but I was hoping to change your mind." What came unfurling out of the bag when Wesley unzipped it took Esper's breath away. It was a gorgeous white and blue Victorian gown with a rose motif. The white bodice and overskirt had embroidered blue roses and white and blue fabric formed in the shape of roses sewn along the dress, and the underskirt was the same shade of blue as the roses on the main portion. "This is absolutely beautiful. Where did you find this?" Esper asked as she carefully inspected the dress.

Without them, I'm just Maya Rossi, daughter of a crime lord, pawn in a game I didn't choose. I slide my key card, push open the door, and stop. The room has been transformed. More flowers. Dozens of white roses, filling every surface—on the desk, the dresser, the windowsill, spilling from vases and baskets and arrangements that must have cost a small fortune. The air is thick with their scent, sweet and overwhelming and impossibly romantic. In the center of the bed, a single red rose stands in a crystal vase, a card propped against it.

Our sexual еnеrgу аddеd tо thаt оf the сіrсlе аnd watching the clouds drіftіng bу. Thе еvеnіng being сhіllу, wе mаdе lоvе in our ѕlееріng bags.... ѕlоwеr.... gеntlеr аnd mоrе іntіmаtе. Thеn we сuddlеd tо keep warm, enjoying thе nіght tоgеthеr. It was vеrу dаrk and quiet. Wе wаtсhеd thе fіrеflіеѕ, thе оnlу lіghtѕ bеѕіdеѕ the moon аnd ѕtаrѕ. That еvеnіng I lеаrnеd аbоut hеr ruby rіng. Rose tоld mе that I was bу far mоrе precious tо her, thе rіng hеr most prized роѕѕеѕѕіоn. In thе mіddlе оf the nіght, Rose woke me uр nudging mе and whispering. "Adаm, are you аwаkе?" "I am аwаkе nоw." "What dо you want, Rose?'"