CHAPTER 13: WHITE ROSE

IZZY'S POV,

An hour later, the plane landed and I tried not to think about the strange texts.

I didn't recognize who it was, so I felt a bit scared and thought about telling Jasper. However, I quickly forgot all about it when I saw a white Rolls-Royce waiting for us on the runway. The chauffeur, an old man with a wrinkled face, opened the door for us, and Jasper motioned for me to step inside first.

“Don't just look at me; get inside the car,” he said, knowing very well that I was beyond impressed. His proud smile told me that.

The drive was brief, and the moment I stepped out of the car, I could feel the complete difference in the air from the city. It was crisp and sweetly fragrant, laced with something almost magical. Before me, illuminated by the soft golden glow of lanterns and moonlight, stood a real castle.

An actual castle.

I’d seen places like this in movies and heard about them in books where princesses found their happily-ever-afters. But never in my wildest dreams had I imagined I’d find myself standing before one.

The heavy stone walls were covered in ivy, and the intricate stained-glass windows were casting soft patterns of light onto the cobblestone driveway. Looking around the garden, I realized the sweet fragrance in the air was from roses and apples.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Mr... I mean Jasper,” I whispered, my voice was barely audible over the distant sound of piano drifting from somewhere inside.

It is a dream, not reality.

Jasper stepped out beside me, his presence felt electrical all of a sudden. He chuckled shyly, and that low, knowing laugh made my stomach flip in a way I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “Welcome to the White Rose Castle.”

I turned to look him in the eyes before asking, “You rented a castle for the date?”

He shrugged simply, like this wasn't anything out of the ordinary either. “I thought you deserved a night where you felt like a princess.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing him speak. Tyler had never done anything remotely close to that. The most extravagant thing he ever planned was a last-minute trip to a beach resort in Hawaii—where he spent half the time texting people about work.

But this? This was magical and far away in a... I didn't know where we were. However, he didn't ask me to carry my passport, so I guessed we were still in the States.

He extended his hand in my direction, so I placed mine in his, allowing him to lead me inside the magnificent building. My heels clicked against the polished marble floors, and I inhaled sharply at the sight before me.

The grand hall was nothing less than breathtaking.

A massive chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, its crystals scattering soft light across the room. A long dining table was placed near the balcony, draped in a silk tablecloth, with flickering candles nestled between lush floral arrangements of white roses and blood-red dahlias.

Fire was crackling in an ornate stone fireplace, casting a warm glow across the room. I didn't know what it was, the clean air or the soft music, but I found myself relaxing. The whole arrangement felt… grand but intimate at the same time.

Jasper pulled out a chair for me like the gentleman he was, and as I sat down, he traced his fingers over my shoulders before asking, “Comfortable?”

I exhaled, and a soft laugh left my lips. “You just flew me to a private castle for dinner. Yeah, I think I’m comfortable.”

He smirked. “Good, because it's just the beginning.”

He clapped his hands, and two waiters, dressed in white, walked in with our meals. A small ensemble played music for us while we ate.

The first course was a delicate amuse-bouche—tiny bites of caviar on crisp toast with a hint of citrus that hit with each bite. The second, a velvety butternut squash soup served in fine porcelain bowls, was my favorite. I never had that before, so the taste just stayed with me.

Throughout the dinner, Jasper kept staring at me. As if he was memorizing every reaction, every expression of delight on my face.

“Are you enjoying your meal?” he asked when a soft hum of approval came out of my mouth at the perfectly seared filet mignon.

I met his gaze, feeling warm and loved. “It’s perfect. I've never had steak like this before. I don't know what to say.”

Halfway through dinner, when my eyes fell on a painting, I realized something. I didn't think about Tyler the whole time; in fact, I wasn’t thinking about revenge, heartbreak, or proving a point to anyone. For the first time in forever, I was simply… happy.

We talked—like really talked about the most random things. He asked me about my favorite places to travel, my childhood memories, and the things that made me feel alive. Most importantly, unlike others, Jasper listened and asked questions related to the stories I was telling him.

He laughed when I told him about the time I tried to bake a cake for my brother’s birthday and nearly burned down our kitchen. He smirked with wide eyes when I admitted I secretly loved old black-and-white films, the ones with stolen glances and over-the-top drama.

And when he told me about his love for architecture—how he once dreamed of making designs before he had to take over his father’s company—I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. He still had the fire burning in them, even after all those years of giving up on his dreams.

In his eyes, I saw Passion.

He was more than the business tycoon everyone talked about, more than the man who exuded control and confidence to everyone he met. He had dreams, too. And I liked listening to them, about his dreams and nightmares.

The final course was a rich chocolate soufflé served with vanilla ice cream on the side. As I took my first bite, the warm chocolate melted on my tongue. I sighed in pure contentment, closing my eyes and enjoying the taste.

“This is…” I shook my head, lost for words because my brain was still processing the taste.

Jasper arched a brow and decided to help me out. “Good?”

“No, not good... it's dangerously good, heavenly even,” I answered instead, still not processing what I was saying.

He chuckled. “That’s how I felt about you the first time I saw you.”

I froze. The fork in my hand hovered in the air. I looked at him, and he wasn't taking his eyes off me. His expression was unreadable, but his words hung between us, ready to tear down whatever shame I had left in my body.

I swallowed, my heart was pounding, and before I could even process what to say next, my phone on the table buzzed. Frowning, I pulled it up and looked at the screen. A text from the same unknown number.

Unknown: Have some shame, woman. Leave before you start regretting it.

My breath hitched. The magic of the moment vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, creeping sensation in my chest like before. My grip on the phone tightened as another message appeared.

Unknown: Are you really this desperate? Sleeping with an old man for his money?

A chill ran down my spine, and I wasn't sure what I should do next. The change in my mood was very obvious because Jasper noticed it instantly. He grabbed my other hand and gave it a little tug. I looked up, smiling at him, but he looked like he knew I was hiding something.

“What happened, love? Who is it? Who texted you?” he asked, and I couldn't stop myself from showing him the chat. I knew he would know how to solve the issue.

He sighed, “I can't believe it's happening to you, too. I seriously don't know who it is or what they want from me.”

“It happened before?!”