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Part 77
Last Updated:
2025-02-28 19:29:11
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His Poisoned Rose   Part 78
His Pov: When the bell rang, I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, forcing the tension from my muscles. But it was still there. That feeling. That goddamn feeling I hadn't been able to shake since earlier tonight. Since her. She had cooked for me. And I’d fucking stood there, frozen, watching her shift nervously under my gaze, her fingers fidgeting, her cheeks flushed like she wasn’t sure if what she’d done was right. Like she was afraid I’d dismiss it. Dismiss her. That softness in her voice, the unspoken need in her eyes—it did something to me. Twisted something deep in my gut. No one had ever done that before. Not for me. People feared me. Respected me. Needed me. But no one… cared. No one gave without expecting something in return. No one saw me as a man—just a force, a means to an end. But she did. And it was fucking unsettling. Because I didn’t do softness. Didn’t do warmth. Those things made a man weak. Made him vulnerable. And yet, standing there, listening to
Last Updated : 2025-03-04His Poisoned Rose   Part 79
His Pov:I lay her down on my bed, her body trembling beneath me, barely holding onto her senses after I fucked her. Hard. Deep. Like I needed to brand myself into her very being. Like I needed her to feel me long after I was gone. Her breath is uneven, her lips parted, swollen from my kisses, her skin still flushed with heat. And yet, the fire in her eyes hasn't dimmed. That defiant glare, that sharp tongue—God, she gets under my skin in ways I can’t even put into words.I hadn’t planned to fuck her like that. Not there. Not then. But I couldn’t hold myself back. Not when she looked at me like that. Not when her voice dripped with accusations, with detest, with anger that cut deeper than I wanted to admit. Not when she threw those words at me, her voice laced with bitterness—" What did you think, huh? She's a slut anyway. Why would she mind being a mistress?"That hit me. Hard.Like a fucking gut punch I wasn’t prepared for. The way she degraded herself, reduced herself to something
Last Updated : 2025-03-05His Poisoned Rose   Part 80
Her Pov:When I open my eyes, the golden light of morning is already spilling through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues. I blink, my body heavy, sore. My gaze drifts around the room, searching for him, but he's nowhere to be seen. The sheets beside me are cold.I shift, trying to sit up, but a sharp ache between my legs makes me freeze. A whimper escapes my lips. Last night… he didn’t hold back. Not even a little. He took me as if restraint was a foreign concept, as if I belonged to him in a way that denied the need for gentleness. And now, I can still feel him—his presence lingering inside me, on me, all around me.I exhale shakily, dragging my body up against the headboard, each movement a reminder of his merciless touch. That’s when I noticed the bedside table. A plate of buttered toast, a cup of coffee still warm, a glass of water, and… painkillers.My throat tightens. He thought of this. He knew. A contradiction wrapped in flesh and bone—that’s what he is. One moment,
Last Updated : 2025-03-06His Poisoned Rose   Part 81
His Pov:I made Rosalina breakfast before leaving early. My father was heading home today, and I needed to speak with him before he did. He had probably already heard everything from Eliza. Knowing her, it was likely all over the place by now.I arrived at his condo, where his men escorted me inside. I didn’t bring any of my people, except for my driver. This conversation wasn’t meant for witnesses.The room was dimly lit, the scent of burning tobacco thick in the air. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to me, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he observed the city below. His presence alone was a quiet warning—controlled, dangerous, absolute. At least we have something in common. "I heard you wanted to see me." His voice was deep, calm—unbothered. He didn’t turn to acknowledge me, and I didn’t care."Yes," I replied, my tone just as cold. "That’s why I’m here."Our relationship was nothing like what a father and son should share. No warmth. No sentiment. Just business.
Last Updated : 2025-03-07His Poisoned Rose   Part 82
Her POV:“Pack your clothes, Rosalina.”His voice is smooth, commanding—so effortlessly authoritative that it leaves no room for defiance. But beneath that polished control, there’s something else. An edge of impatience. A quiet demand that brooks no refusal.I freeze, my grip tightening around the phone. Leaving?“P-Pack my clothes?” My voice comes out uncertain, barely above a whisper. My heart is already hammering against my ribs. “But why? Where are we going?”A pause. Just long enough to make my breath hitch. And then, finally—“Paris.”The word drops like a stone, heavy, and final.I forget to breathe. Forget that he’s still on the line. I just stand there, the phone pressed to my ear, my mind struggling to process what he just said.Paris? Is he serious? Is this some kind of twisted joke?My stomach clenches as reality crashes into me like a tidal wave. He slept with me once, and now he thinks he owns me? Does he really believe that because last night, I’ll just follow him like
Last Updated : 2025-03-09His Poisoned Rose   Part 83
Her Pov:I wander through the house without purpose, my steps slow, aimless. There’s an unsettling emptiness inside me, a gnawing uncertainty that I can’t seem to shake off. I rejected his offer to go to Paris with him—but what now? What does that mean for me? For us?A cold shiver crawled down my spine at the thought of him leaving without another word, boarding a plane and vanishing from my life just as suddenly as he had entangled himself in it. Leonardo is unpredictable. He could do it—he could leave me here, locked away, forgotten, discarded like an afterthought. The mere possibility makes my stomach twist, though I don’t understand why.The painkiller he left for me has dulled the sharp aches enough for me to move, but the exhaustion clings to my bones. I’m still hungry, but the breakfast he made remains untouched. I don’t have the strength to make something for myself—not when my mind is consumed by him.Leonardo.His name loops through my mind, dragging with it memories that m
Last Updated : 2025-03-10His Poisoned Rose   Part 84
Her Pov:"I don’t have a fiancée."The words land like a spark in the air between us—final, firm, and undeniable.My breath catches. My eyes widen. My entire body freezes as the weight of his statement settles into my bones, turning my limbs heavy and useless. I stare at him, my lips parting, but no sound comes out.I try again. "B-but you had a f-fiancée just yesterday."His lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile—too sharp, too knowing. "And I don’t today," he states, his voice drenched in amusement, his eyes never leaving mine.I swallow hard, my pulse hammering at the base of my throat. "B-but how?" I whisper, my voice trembling as I search his face for an answer. For something. Anything.He steps closer. Too close. The heat of his body presses against mine, seeping into my skin, overwhelming my senses.His fingers trace along my jaw before tilting my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze. His deep sharp hazel eyes. I shudder at the possessiveness in his touch. His l
Last Updated : 2025-03-11His Poisoned Rose   Part 85
Her Pov:The chopper hums around me, the vibrations crawling up my spine, settling deep in my bones. The leather seat is smooth beneath my fingertips, but my hands tremble too much to register the luxury, the softness.I can still feel the phantom press of Leonardo’s fingers on my wrist, where he had gripped me like a possession—unchallenged, unquestioned.I stare out the window as the city shrinks beneath us, the twinkling lights of the streets like dying stars swallowed by the night. My stomach twists. I should fight. I should resist. But my body refuses to obey, frozen in place by something far more insidious than fear.Acceptance.Leonardo sits beside me, his presence an iron weight, his eyes a brand against my skin. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. His mere existence suffocates the air between us, demanding attention, obedience, and submission.Noah and the other man—whose name I still don’t know—sit across from us, silent and watching. Waiting. For what, I don’t know. But thei
Last Updated : 2025-03-13
Latest chapter
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
