John Rosemond Book Novels & Stories

Frowning, he went to pull the door shut and it hit something, a thud sounding towards the bottom of the door. Chris lowered his gaze to the floor, and blinked in surprise, stuck between the door and the wall, was a little red rose in a tiny but elegant glass shaped like a crescent moon, the inside hardened with…resin? He picked it up, and saw the tiny thorns surrounding the rose inside. Blinking, he curled his fingers around the item and jogged lightly down the stairs, two at a time. __________________

Bianca was sold to a mafia lord at a very young age and all she could think about was getting revenge. Her plan was going well until the mafia lord's son, Nico, came into the picture. Nico was handsome and cold, brutal but calm. However, when he met Bianca, she brought out his troubled side. He didn't want her. She didn't care. In fact, she hated him. She felt he was emotionless and he felt she was too tough. Both were intrigued. ~♡~ "The only thing stopping me from taking you right here on this table, is that you belong to my father." His voice was tensed and I didn't need to see his face to know how he felt. "My father's whore." He added. I swallowed, hurt by his words. "You

Everyone except for Callum, apparently. Too oblivious to care, Callum knocked on Lorcan's office door and invited him to the upcoming class reunion. "I'm not going," Lorcan bit out, impassive as he signed the contract on his table. "Alright, but for your information, Tessa's come home," Callum mused. Lorcan dropped his pen. By the time Callum registered what was happening, the former was gone. Alas, those rumors of Tessa's return were mere conjectures, for Lorcan searched the familiar crowd and still did not see her. The red rose, which had once been the center of everyone's attention, was no longer here.

Before I could hunt for a trail, a soft, frantic gasp from the doorway made me spin around, my gun automatically aiming at the target. Rodah stood there, clutching a dark silk robe tightly around her bare body, her green eyes wide with terror and confusion. She had unlocked the bedroom door herself, driven out by the sheer panic of hearing my boots storm through the house. The sight of her flushed skin and messy hair instantly sent a familiar, possessive heat straight to my groin, but the brutal weight of the war crashing down on us completely crushed the urge to touch her. "Martinez... what is happening?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the shattered glass on the floor.