Novel & Cerita Rose And Champagne Novel

She dared not look down—only at Matteo—trusting him completely to guide her across. At the other end, a glamorous picnic table awaited, complete with a private butler. On the table: caviar, truffles, Dom Pérignon, and champagne. Everything was over-the-top—everything Rose’s heart quietly rejected. It was simply too much for her. “Nicole sure knows how to spoil us,” Matteo said, sipping his champagne. “This is what I call a vacation. What do you think?” Rose forced an awkward smile. “Yes, it’s very nice. Like a dream.”

Her lips parted to speak, to demand who he was, but before the question could form, the familiar rhythm of heels clicking down the hall echoed through the air. 'Lisa,' Rose thought. And just like that, the fragile tension in Rose’s chest snapped into irritation. Because she remembered... God, she recalled what came next. The roses. Twelve perfect crimson blooms arranged in a crystal vase, one for every month Duke had courted her. A year of promises. A year of sweet words and subtle manipulation. She remembered the way her heart had swelled when she’d first seen them in her past life. The way she had believed that every petal was a symbol of his love, his devotion, his sincerity.

From that moment on, Rose and Liam vowed to navigate their lives together, sharing not only the joys and pleasures but also the challenges and triumphs that lay ahead. Rose sat in her chair, a glass of deep red wine cradled in her hand. The rich aroma filled the air, momentarily distracting her from the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed her mind. She took a small sip, savoring the smoothness of the liquid as it slid down her throat. The liquid courage, she thought to herself, willing it to embolden her.

Marianne ran to the door and opened to reveal a man in a tuxedo, a rose in one hand and a champagne bottle in the other. "Hi, You look stunningly beautiful, Marianne", he said with his mouth open. Marianne pushed a hair behind her ear and said her thanks while trying to hide her blushing cheeks. "Please, come in," she said. Raphael walked in and was directed to the living room where he found Rose standing up with her crutches. "Hello, little Rosey! I missed you so mu...!" He put his arms out as he walked towards her to get his hug and was astonished to see Rose walk steadily to him with the help of her crutches into his arms before he could finish his sentence,

I watch intently with my brows raised as he removes a sizable oil painting from its place on the wall, unveiling a hidden safe that had been seamlessly integrated into the structure. I pivot on my heel and survey the colossal collection of books that had escaped my memory until now. The tips of my fingers delicately graze the uppermost edges of the book spines as my eyes glide over the titles. My fingers hover over one book in particular. It's a book that is very improper in Alessandros’ collection. This book is a historical romance novel written by Sylvia Day. One of Roses’ all-time favourite authors. Curiosity gets the better of me and I start to slide the book out, “come here, tesoro.” I

this would be a problem. Kristopher grabbed the glass of champagne from the table and held it in his hand, lost in deep thoughts. He then took a sip of it, and as the stingy taste of alcohol swirled in his mouth, down to his system, he felt relaxed. She looks like a sweet lamb from afar, but when you get close you find out she is so pure and innocent. Like red rose which never had the dust and stains, it was pure and fresh and ready to bloom. The one which never lost the glorious scent.

She found herself studying him in a way she hadn’t before…how naturally power fit him, how the room seemed to orbit around him. Introductions blurred past her. Dante shook hands, his English was clipped but fluent, his tone was edged with authority. Rose gave polite nods when her name was mentioned, but her voice hardly carried beyond a whisper. She was the wife, and wives in this world were decorations, never participants. At one point, a partner smiled warmly at her, pressing a glass of champagne into her hand. Rose curled her fingers around the stem, unsure whether to drink, when Dante plucked it away without a word.

“You see, Rose? All of these walls are made of real marble. So, whenever you host an event, make sure you allow only drinks like champagne and cognac to be served. No dark drinks, like red wine, which could cause stains if an accident happens… And, Andrea… Don't think I don't see you with that thing in your hand!” Adele, who until then Andy thought was distracted enough teaching Rose how to be the new Mrs. Vamcap during her own engagement party, snapped, making Andy hide her cell phone behind her dress skirt, on impulse “Frankly, you’re in the middle of your brother’s engagement. Can’t you leave that thing aside for just a minute?”

Pink multiflora roses represented purity, while burgundy red ones symbolized the vow of unwavering love. Both types of roses embodied her longing to remain forever united with Cedric, the only person she wished to be with. Observing discreetly, the waitress quickly left to spare herself the discomfort of intruding on their intimate moment. Cedric navigated through the sea of flowers, his strides bringing him to her side. "These roses were all air-shipped from Gallia. Do you like them?" Her racing heart suddenly calmed down at his words, and Sophie looked up and met his gaze directly. "Did you really go to Gallia?"

He set his glass on the balcony, his hand then finding its way to the small of my back so that he could draw me in to him. His eyes shone as if the stars themselves burned within. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine. The sensation made my spine feel like it was made of champagne, bubbly and ready to float away. I pressed my lips against his, begging for a better taste. He opened his mouth, the effervescence of champagne permeating my senses. I smiled as I moaned softly. All I wanted was to drink his champagne kisses.