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Part 59
Last Updated:
2025-02-15 23:58:33
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His Poisoned Rose   Part 60
His Pov: I run my fingers through her silky dark brown hair, feeling the tremors of her quiet sobs as they shake her fragile frame. Her fists clutch desperately at my shirt, the fabric growing damp with her tears—but I couldn't care less. What mattered was the way she fit against me, small and trembling, as if she was trying to disappear into my presence.I inhale deeply, letting the scent of roses and a faint trace of antiseptic medicine wrap around my senses. It clings to her like a ghost of past pain, something she hasn’t quite escaped.A voice cuts through the air."Boss?" Noah's tone is careful, laced with a quiet reverence. He knows better than to intrude, but he’s checking—ensuring the situation is under control.Rosalina stiffens at the sound, suddenly aware of herself, and I feel her attempt to pull away. But I don’t allow it. Not yet. I know she isn’t ready, not when her body still trembles against mine, not when I can still feel the uneven rhythm of her breathing.Without
Last Updated : 2025-02-16His Poisoned Rose   Part 61
His Pov:She sleeps so soundly, as if yesterday never happened. As if she wasn’t trembling in my arms, her lips quivering, her entire body frozen in terror. But I remember. I remember too damn well. The way she looked at me— not as me, but as someone else. Marco.That name alone makes my jaw clench. The sheer hatred in her gaze, the raw fear—it wasn't for me. It was for him. But why? How? What did she see in me that made her mistake me for him?The questions claw at me, relentless. I need answers. I need to know.I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Noah. He picks up on the first ring.“Noah, tell the doctor I’ll be there in ten minutes.” My voice is sharp, commanding.“Yes, boss.” His response is immediate—exactly as it should be.I toss the phone onto the bedside table and run a hand through my hair. The need for control is second nature, but right now, I feel anything but. She has shaken something in me, something dark and restless. I don’t like it. I don’t understand it.I move
Last Updated : 2025-02-17His Poisoned Rose   Part 62
Her Pov:The warmth of the morning sun kissed my skin, pulling me from the depths of sleep. My eyes fluttered open, instinctively searching for him—the man who held me captive in his arms last night. Or had I sought refuge there on my own? I couldn’t tell anymore.I shouldn’t have found solace in his embrace. I shouldn’t have let his presence calm the storm inside me. Yet, against all logic, my pulse had synced with his, beating in unison like a whispered secret in the dark. He is unravelling me, twisting my thoughts, blurring the lines between captor and comfort.He confuses me. He really does…I don’t know what he wants from me anymore. His actions, his words—they contradict each other so effortlessly that I can no longer tell what is real and what is a carefully crafted illusion. Just yesterday afternoon, he shattered me. With nothing but his words, he carved wounds deep into my soul, forcing me to face a truth I was never ready to accept. He didn’t soften the blow, didn’t offer co
Last Updated : 2025-02-18His Poisoned Rose   Part 63
Her Pov:“Who is Marco, Rosalina?”The words hit like a dagger to my spine.And I freeze. My breath catches in my throat, my pulse hammering against my ribs. How... how does he know? His name—I barely whispered it last night, a fragile sound lost in the dark, one I wasn't even sure had escaped my lips. And yet, he knows. Of course, he does.A shiver snakes down my spine, part fear, part something else—something I refuse to name. I should have known better. He notices everything. Every glance, every hesitation, every breath I take when he's near.And now, he wants answers. His voice is calm, but I feel the weight of his question pressing against my skin, sinking into my bones. Once again, it's him in control. Him demanding. Me unraveling.I should answer. I should give him something—anything. But do I have to? Am I truly bound to obey? Am I really that powerless against him? That bound to lay myself bare, to show him the cracks in my armour, the trembling vulnerability beneath? If he
Last Updated : 2025-02-19His Poisoned Rose   Part 64
His Pov:I storm out of her cabin, slamming the door behind me. My pulse hammers against my skull, my breaths coming in sharp, ragged bursts. My fingers flex and curl into a tight fist at my side, aching with the ghost of her throat still beneath them. It took everything in me to let go, to force my grip to loosen when all I wanted was to squeeze the truth out of her.She’s lying. I know she is. Even if the words coming from her lips hold some shred of truth, they aren’t the whole truth. And that eats at me like a slow-burning fire.My shoulders heave as I drag in a breath, trying to wrestle back control. But the fury doesn’t fade—it thrums in my veins, a caged beast pacing just beneath my skin. I saw the way she looked at Marco last night. Pure hatred. Loathing carved into every line of her face.Then why is she protecting him? Why does he matter so much to her?My jaw clenches, muscles flexing beneath the strain. My knuckles crack as my fist tightens. I want to destroy something. So
Last Updated : 2025-02-20His Poisoned Rose   Part 65
Her Pov:I freshen up and change my clothes into a coffee toned frock that reaches to my mid thigh. It's an off shoulder dress, Leomardo brought from his apartment, and that's when I see it.The marks of his fingers on my throat.Faint, but undeniable. Shadows of his touch, pressed into my skin, proof of the power he holds. He really did put pressure—enough to leave a mark. My breath stills as I lift my hand, fingertips hovering just above the bruises. A silent reminder. A warning. Or maybe something else entirely.A knock on the door makes me freeze. I open my hair and let them fall on my shoulder, a desperate try to hide the marks.It can't be Leonardo. He never knocks.Then, it has to be the doctor or one of his men."Come in..." My voice is steady, but my pulse isn’t. I step away from the mirror as the door swings open.A man stands at the threshold, dressed in all black. Tall, broad-shouldered, unfamiliar."Boss told me to escort you to the car." His tone is low, impersonal. His
Last Updated : 2025-02-21His Poisoned Rose   Part 66
Her Pov:And then, without hesitation, he lifts me.With just one arm, as if I weigh nothing to him.The air stills. My pulse stammers. My body presses against the heat of his, caught between fear and something far more dangerous.He carries me to the kitchen with effortless ease, settling me onto the cool surface of the table. The air between us is heavy, charged, as he pours another glass of water. Without a word, he presses a tablet against my lips, his fingers lingering there just a second too long. His dark eyes flicker with something unreadable, focused solely on my mouth as I part my lips and take the pill. I reach for the glass, swallowing, and as the water slides down my throat, his gaze follows its path—watching, waiting.Then he leans in, close enough that his breath brushes against my lips, warm and steady. His fingers move next, long and deliberate, starting just below my ear, tracing a slow, featherlight path down my neck.A shiver runs through me, but I don’t move. His
Last Updated : 2025-02-22His Poisoned Rose   Part 67
His Pov:I watch her from the corner of my eye as she gets into the car and shifts in her seat, her posture tense, fingers gripping the bag like it's a lifeline. She's trying to pretend she isn't affected, that she isn't carrying the weight of what happened last night, but I see it. I see everything.The marks on her throat, faint yet unmistakable. My marks.She saw them.I knew she would.I exhale slowly, keeping my gaze fixed on my phone, feigning indifference even as something dark coils inside me. Guilt? No. I don't regret it. But there's something about the way she tries to hide it with her hair that unsettles me in ways I refuse to name."Where are we going?" Her voice finally breaks the silence, tentative yet steady.I glance up, meeting her eyes for the first time since she got in the car. Her gaze is searching, desperate for answers, for clarity. I give her none."Home."The word lingers between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. She swallows hard, turning her face to the windo
Last Updated : 2025-02-23
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His Poisoned Rose   Part 106
Her Pov:The sun sinks lower over the Seine, casting molten gold across the water, painting the ripples with liquid fire. The city hums around us—soft laughter from distant lovers drifting through the air, the rhythmic lapping of waves against the stone embankment, the whisper of the wind as it tangles through my dress.Paris feels like a dream, weightless and unreal, but Leonardo beside me is more vivid than anything else.He moves with his usual silent grace, his presence coiled and restrained, like a predator choosing patience over pursuit. The evening glow sharpens the angles of his face and deepens the shadows beneath his cheekbones, making him look like something sculpted from darkness itself. He is breathtaking, but never soft—never safe.A sudden gust of wind sweeps in, lifting the hem of my dress, sending a shiver dancing up my spine. Before I can react, warmth engulfs me. Leonardo moves with a quiet swiftness that steals the breath from my lungs, pressing against my back, h
His Poisoned Rose   Part 105
Her Pov:I swallow hard, looking away from him for a second, trying to gather my thoughts. “Is that it?” I finally ask, my voice barely a whisper. The question lingers, hanging between us, almost absurd in its simplicity.“No,” he says softly, his voice barely louder than the river’s murmur. “There’s more to be freed than just the fish.”I glance up at him, but his expression remains unreadable, as always. But something in the way he looks at me makes my breath hitch, like he’s seeing through every wall I’ve built.He steps closer, and I feel the heat of his presence before I even see him fully. The air between us thickens as though the world is holding its breath. I want to speak, to ask him everything, but my throat tightens, the words sticking in my chest. I stand there, frozen in place, as his gaze holds me captive, just as much as he claims to have done to the fish."They’re just like me..." he whispers, the words soft but piercing, making my chest tighten. His eyes are intense,
His Poisoned Rose   Part 104
Her Pov:Paris stretches endlessly beyond the car window, a blur of elegant streets and towering architecture, but none of it holds my attention. All I see is him—Leonardo, sitting beside me in the backseat, his presence heavy, commanding. He hasn’t spoken much since we left, and I can’t tell if the silence between us is suffocating or intoxicating. Maybe both. His fingers tap lightly against his knee, his eyes staring straight ahead, but I know he’s aware of every movement I make. Every breath.The ride stretches on for hours, the city fading into quieter roads, then almost nothingness. I shift uncomfortably, feeling the slight ache still lingering in my body, a reminder of last night—of him.Heat curls under my skin at the memory, but I push it away. He hasn’t looked at me the same way since this morning, and I hate how that unsettles me. Like I’m standing on uneven ground, waiting for him to either pull me in or push me away.His two men sit in the front, quiet as ever, focused on
His Poisoned Rose   Part 103
Her Pov:When I wake up, he’s nowhere to be seen. The bed is cold beside me, as if he had left hours ago, yet the air still carries the ghost of his presence.Last night, he was all over me. When I drifted into sleep, it was with his scent wrapped around me, his breath mingling with mine, his body pressing down on me in a way that made me feel utterly possessed. Now, with the morning light streaming through the curtains, I feel the stark emptiness of his absence. My fingers brush over the sheets, still slightly wrinkled from where his hands had gripped me, from where his body had pinned me down as he took me, as he claimed me.A sharp ache pulses between my legs, a reminder of just how relentless he was. His thrusts had been merciless, as if he wasn’t just trying to claim my body but my very soul. As if the mere act of having me wasn’t enough—he needed to carve his presence into my skin, into my bones, into the deepest recesses of my mind. And what’s worse? I had wanted it. I needed i
His Poisoned Rose   Part 102
***15 Years ago****His POV:When my eyes cracked open, it felt like waking from death itself.The ceiling above me swayed, blurry and unfamiliar, though I’ve stared at it a thousand times. For a moment, I couldn’t even remember where I was—only the weight of my limbs, the stickiness of blood dried across my skin, and the stinging throb radiating from every corner of my body. My breath came out jagged, uneven, as if my lungs had forgotten how to pull in air.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? Days? I can’t tell. Sleep doesn’t feel like sleep anymore. It feels like falling into some black hole and clawing my way back up every time, just to fall again.My body—my entire being—felt like it wasn’t mine anymore.My skin prickled and burned, covered in sweat, filth, and blood. When I shifted, a sharp, tearing sensation ripped through my back and arms. I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, forcing my eyes to move, to look down.Shards of glass.Tiny, jagged pieces embedded in
His Poisoned Rose   Part 101
***15 years ago***His Pov:It’s been three days since my mother pushed me down the stairs.Three days since I felt my body crash against every hard step, bones snapping, skull cracking, everything blurring into nothingness before I blacked out.My right hand is fractured. They had to wrap it in plaster, sling it from my neck like a reminder of how breakable I really am. My head is bandaged too—tight and rough around my skull—covering the deep wound above my eyebrow where they stitched me back together. Seven stitches. I counted them when I woke up, fingers trembling as I traced the skin around them, wondering why I still felt so numb.I don’t even know how I survived.If David hadn’t done something… if he hadn’t begged or screamed for help… I would’ve bled out right there at the bottom of those stairs, and no one would’ve noticed until I started to rot.From the bits and pieces he’s let slip, I think he ran to the neighbours, knocked on their doors in the middle of the night, sobbing
His Poisoned Rose   Part 100
**15 years ago***His Pov:I don’t even know how much time passed while we sat there, lost in the comfort of something that felt almost... normal. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. All I know is the sun had already started creeping higher, bleeding light through the half-closed curtains while we sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, controllers in hand, laughing at nothing and everything as we played my favourite video games.David had woken up too. He’d been with us the whole time, sitting close, occasionally throwing in jokes or grabbing the controller for his turn. It felt like family — not the kind of family I grew up with, but the kind I used to dream about. A soft, peaceful, happy little bubble. It almost felt like Father's Home, when Aunt Rachel used to stay with us, making dessert while the TV buzzed in the background.For once, the world outside my door didn’t exist.Until it did.Until everything shattered in a single heartbeat.A sharp sound cracked through the air — the dull,
His Poisoned Rose   Part 99
**15 Years Ago**His Pov:I flip through the crumpled, half-burned pages of the only thing I have left—the only thing she couldn’t destroy. My fingers trace the torn edges carefully, like they’re made of glass, like they’ll fall apart if I hold them too tight. The paper is stained, corners smudged, some pages singed at the ends. But it’s still here. It's my favourite book. The only one I could save.A sharp sting burns the back of my eyes, and I blink hard, fighting the tears that keep coming even when I tell them not to. A droplet escapes anyway, falling on the brittle page in front of me. The black ink smudges under it like it’s bleeding.Why does she always do this to me?Why does she always hate the things I love?I don’t understand her. I’ve never understood her. No matter how much I try. I’ve always liked quiet things—books, cameras, and games. Things that let me disappear into a different world because this one hurts too much. But to her, those things are worthless. Nonsense.
His Poisoned Rose   Part 98
His Pov:I stand on the balcony, the city lights flickering below like dying embers, as I take a slow drag from the cigarette I borrowed from one of my men. The smoke curls in the air, a temporary distraction, but even that isn't enough.I don’t smoke—not usually. I’ve never needed vices to dull my mind, never sought escape in addiction or meaningless habits. I’ve always been above such weaknesses.And yet, here I am.Because of her.She’s made me crave, made me restless, and made me need.My fingers tighten around the cigarette, the burn at my fingertips, nothing compared to the fire coursing through me. I can’t erase her from my mind. No matter how much I try, she lingers—her ice-blue eyes wide and full of something between fear and defiance. Her swollen lips, parted and trembling. Her teary eyes, her breathy moans and her tight cunt all just leaves me hungrier.The way she looked at me, the way she sounded, the way she felt wrapped around me—so impossibly tight, so warm, so fucking
