Rosaline Glass Novels & Stories

The house had a RENT TO OWN sign out front with a phone number on it. Katie carefully held the Rosarium Glass in both hands, stroking the multicolored stained roses one by one now with her right thumb, tilting it as she went, warming the etched pieces of color with her touch. The surface of the glass swirled as if it were liquid, glowing like liquid mercury illuminated by the last scattering light of the sun’s rays. The air shimmered—the smell of roses came on the breeze. They stood surrounding her in a half-circle in the field of rippling cattails and grass.

She walked to her shelf and brought out a bottle of wine, she pour into two cups and with a friendly smile, she offered one to Rosie. "Care for a glass of Rosey?". Without saying anything, Rosie took the cup and placed it on a side table. She looked determined, she looked like the kind of person that doesn't easily get distracted even when Ryan began to undress. "Did she fall for it?". Her voice sounded boring. "That bitch is a pain in the ass, Rosie" Ryan groaned "I just want to make her feel endless pain". Rosie smiled, she took her glass of Rosey and walked towards the window, one arm behind her back right above her butt, the other was holding the cup close to her lips.

I felt countless needles pierce my trembling soul. I wanted to rush forward and tear off Delila’s false mask. Moreover, I had so many questions for Kelvin. Were all our past memories nothing but a joke? But I could not do anything. I could only watch helplessly as Delila grew bolder. She reached out to touch the necklace around Kelvin’s neck. It was my gift to him after working three months straight. Just as her fingertips were about to touch it, Kelvin abruptly stepped back. He frowned tightly. A flash of irritation darted through his eyes, as if he had reached his limit.

Ten years ago, I brought my distant cousin Sofia to New York after finding her cornered by her stepfather's creditors in an old Sicilian port. I taught her English, etiquette, and the laws of our world. I even introduced her to my fiancé, Alessandro Moretti. On the eve of our wedding, I found a secure family thread on my brother's computer—a thread that excluded me. My mother had written, "Sofia is pregnant. Are you really going through with tomorrow's wedding?" Alessandro replied, "The legal marriage is hers. The ceremony and the Moretti name will be Isabella's." That was when I learned they’d already gotten legally married. Our wedding was meant to seal a truce between two Mafia families a

She was raised to be a secret. Now she's about to become a reckoning. At the royal court of Canberra-Vane, they call her the "Second Prince", sickly, unremarkable, easy to overlook. Exactly what she needs them to think. For years, Lyra has lived a lie stitched into her own skin: chest bound tight, veins full of suppressants that shouldn't even exist, all to bury one truth: she's an Omega, and she's not the son this throne was promised. One dose too late, one loose thread, and the entire fraud unravels along with her. Everyone around her is playing a game. She's just playing it better than anyone gives her credit for. Crown Prince Kaelan wants her gone and isn't subtle about it; every "a

Vivienne Laurent had learned long ago how to disappear in plain sight. She stood at the far end of the ballroom, beneath a crystal chandelier that glittered like a frozen constellation, holding a champagne flute she had no intention of drinking. The glass tower of Laurent International loomed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, its mirrored surface reflecting the city lights below. From a distance, she looked like exactly what she was supposed to be: a poised billionaire heiress, draped in silk, her dark hair swept into an elegant twist.

Our cab had already arrived, so we got in and headed straight for Reno’s Boutique — one of the biggest in New York. I’d only heard about the place from Marielle, but stepping inside was something else entirely. The glass walls gleamed, the scent of expensive perfume filled the air, and designer dresses shimmered under the warm lights. I ran my fingers across one of them, smiling a little for the first time in days. Tessa and I started browsing through the racks. When we reached the trousers section, I picked a few to try on — and that was when I saw her. Marielle. She was clinging to Adrian’s arm like her life depended on it, laughing too loudly, too sweetly. The moment her eyes met mine, he

A looked crossed his eyes,but it went away as quickly as it came, and soon he was looking at me amused again. "Of course, I didn't anticipate finding raunchy books in a sweet girl's bag, you're definitely right. Noted, I'm never doing that again." I scowled and he smirked. "So Rosie?" He asked, I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes at that, rubbing at my temples. "No, my name's Rosette, not Rosie. That's childish." "Okay, so Rose. Well that's a pretty name for a very pretty girl, as cliché as it sounds, it's the truth, you're a pretty little flower." And the blush that was barely receding was back again.

I switched off the TV and picked up a glass of scotch, my eyes narrowed in deep thoughts. I decided to go check on her. I stood up quickly and picked up my glass of a Scotch, then I began to unhurriedly climb the stairs. "Tiger! Wait!" I heard a soft feminine voice behind me, the voice was clearly calculated to be seductive. I turned around, it was Bella. She was sashaying towards me, her wide hips swinging enticingly. "what do you want Bella? "I didn't let the smoke out this time, I let it trickle down my throat.

Lady Vita blinks, “Where are your parents?” A flash of something flashes on the little girl’s eyes, but it was too quick that even Lady Vita couldn’t tell what it just was. With a voice stronger than what she used a moment ago, the little girl puffs her chest, staring at Lady Vita straight in the eyes. “Did you not hear me? I have Alpha blood. Make me a Royal Consort!”