Love Is A Rose Novels & Stories

"Oh, Carlo. Look at me. Take a good look... Whose wedding do you think this is? This is my wedding. Mine, and I'll be marrying Luca. And you? You're just a madman crashing someone else's wedding." His smile froze. Tears rolled down his face. "No… It's not true… Rosa, you love me…" I dropped the wilted roses at his feet. "You're wrong. I did love you...but that was in another life. You murdered that love with your own hands, and my life along with it. All I have for you in this life is hate." I took Luca's arm and walked past Carlo without looking back. His cries echoed behind me, but none of that mattered to me anymore.

Veronica replied "That goes for all of you. Rose is My Beloved. That makes her your Future Queen. I expect all of you to treat her with respect. If you do not, then you will pay with your lives," I said, then I turned to leave. It was time for me to go and see Rose. When I walked into our room, Rose and Alice were sitting in the living room. "How could you take her to the club?" I said as I walked into the room. Rose got up and stood in front of Alice.

“I know but there are some lies that are necessary, especially when you promise someone else to maintain them.” “What lies?” This time Paul heard the anger in my voice. “Rose, the man that attacked you, what do you remember about him?” Paul pressed like this had everything to do with what he wanted to tell me. The memory was blurry as I tried to put the pieces together. “I don’t know… he was fast, really fucking fast. And his teeth— No, I was so frightened I imagined most of it.” “Rose,” Ivan touched my hand and my eyes flew open. I hadn’t even realised I’d closed them so tightly. “Just tell us even if it sounds crazy.”

I opened the door just a few inches and saw a small cardboard box sitting on the carpet with no name and no return address, so I pulled it inside and opened the lid while the others crowded around me to see what was inside. Resting on a bed of white tissue paper was a single rose made of delicate glass and the stem was broken in half so it looked dead and jagged, and I knew immediately that it was a message from Elena Romano because that rose was the symbol of the investment firm we had burned down in Berlin.

"My love is as sweet as a rose." "If I have to hold a rose when I think of you, then all my life I will have to pick roses forever." "True love is like a rose, sweet, fragrant, and intoxicating." Jazzy reads one by one the paper which contains romantic sentences related to roses. "Surely you weren't the one who made this up?" Asked Jazzy. Marco shook his head, Jazzy laughed out loud. At least the man in front of her had made an effort.

PROLOGUE "Red is always symbolizing love. But for Rose it had never been love. It was blood. Even her name has red on it. Blood that she hates. If she has the time to turn things back on, she will never ever tie herself to the man that she once loved. " A King… Her king that rules the kingdom. The blood that she doesn’t need is the one that can keep her alive. She doesn’t know that love is going to make its way to getting in the way of the love she throws at her. She doesn’t know that once in her life… Red will always be love and Rose will always be red. ROSE AMARA AMBER

The smoke, the fire, the lies—none of it mattered when he looked at her like that. His fingers brushed her cheek, slow and reverent. “I tried to stay away from you,” he said. “But you didn’t.” Their lips met in a crash of heat and confusion, need and fury. Her hands tangled in his hair. His mouth was urgent, devouring, worshipping. The kiss deepened, wild and consuming, like the fire roaring through the mansion. He pinned her against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of her with desperate intensity. She gasped as he kissed down her neck, her collarbone, pushing the fabric of her maid’s uniform aside like it offended him. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust and smoke.

He had been taken from me too early in life, but here he was, a strong, caring man, his features softened with love as he lifted me into his arms. “Fiona,” he said, his voice deep and soothing, “you are the most important thing in my life. Never forget that. This rose,” he handed me a delicate, red flower, “symbolizes our love and your worth. Whenever you feel lost or alone, hold onto this rose in your heart, and you’ll always find your way.” I clutched the rose tightly, feeling its softness against my small hand. In that moment, somehow, I understood the significance of the precious gift and the weight of the love behind it.

Emma frowned and softly replied, "I'm fine. Thank you for your concern." "This rose was specially ordered for you. You must take it. This is a token of my appreciation. I hope that you can get out of the nightmare as soon as possible." Yoseph personally delivered the rose to her. Emma looked at it. It was neither right nor wrong to accept it. The flower language of the rose was a passionate love. If she accepted it, did it mean that she had accepted something? "That, you came to see me, I am already very happy, this flower. . . "

Even though Mason did all of this, his parents still loved me like their own. Wyatt came up to the bed, and motioned me to scoot over. I did as he asked, and again laid my head on his chest after he sat down. He started rubbing small circles on my back. I couldn't help but smile. "Love, I want to talk about something." Wyatt said in a low voice. My heart started racing, was he going to reject me? Was I really not good enough for any of my mates? I guess Wyatt noticed the increase in my heart rate, stupid heart monitor. He gently picked me up and made me face him. Looking at him and the thought of him rejecting me made me start to tear up. "Why are you crying?" He asked. I just shook my head