As Rose sank onto the soft mattress, the plushness of it enveloping her in comfort, she released a slow, shaky breath… then another. The weight of the day pressed against her chest like an invisible cloak. She turned slightly—and her eyes met his. Julian.
Their gazes locked. Silent. Heavy. Unyielding.
He watched her like a storm held in human form—silent winds gathering behind those dark eyes. And yet… calm. Composed. A man who, just hours ago, had shattered wine glasses with his voice at the restaurant. Now? He was the image of control again, as if rage had never danced on his tongue.
She couldn't help but think: How does he do it? How can someone be so fiery, yet freeze the moment with a single stare?
Julian didn't speak. Didn't blink. He studied her like a puzzle he already knew how to solve. Rose shifted beneath the intensity, her cheeks heating.
"I-Is there… another room I can stay in?" she asked, sitting up to avoid his gaze.
He didn't even flinch. Just lay there, arms behind his head, voice smooth and commanding. "Why?"
That one word made her eyes narrow. Of course he knew why. She exhaled sharply, turning to stand—when his hand caught her wrist.
Firm, but not harsh.
In one fluid motion, he guided her back down beside him. The mattress dipped softly, stealing the tension from her limbs. She stared at him, startled.
His voice dipped into a whisper, lethal yet teasing. "Why so shy, Rosa? Haven't we shared a bed before?"
Her breath caught.
Blush bloomed across her cheeks, rushing like a tidal wave of memories. She hated how her mind went there. How his voice alone stirred something deep, something she had long locked away.
"It was circumstantial," she said, stiffly. "That night… it wasn't supposed to happen."
Julian's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk. "You were shy then, too. Trembling like glass under a flame."
She slapped his shoulder, eyes wide. "So you do remember!"
"I remember... nothing clearly," he replied, a glint of mischief in his gaze. "Maybe you could… remind me. In detail."
Her entire face lit up crimson.
Why was she enjoying this conversation?
Why did she remember that night like it was painted in gold?
Before her mind wandered too far, she shot up, coughing nervously. "I-I'll sleep on the couch in the sitting room."
Julian stood, voice cool and final. "Forget it. You take the bed." He started walking away, pausing at the door, his tone deep and unreadable. "You'll need the rest more than I do."
And just like that, he was gone—leaving the door open, and Rose, blushing, staring at the space where his warmth had just been.
---
The Next Morning
Sunlight spilled lazily through the blinds. Rose blinked awake, momentarily disoriented. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her apartment. Right… Julian's penthouse.
She rubbed her eyes and made her way to the kitchen for a glass of water, her bare feet soft against the marble floor. Empty.
She wandered to the sitting room. No sign of Julian.
"Did he leave without saying anything?" she muttered.
Deciding to take a shower, she grabbed her towel. The warm water soothed her nerves, cascading over her skin. As she stepped out, she remembered: her undies were drying on the balcony. Tying the towel around her chest, she tiptoed across the room, opened the balcony door, and reached out for the fabric.
And then—
The door creaked.
Julian stood there, frozen in the doorway. His eyes—dark, amused, and utterly unreadable—trailed slowly from her flushed face to the clothing in her hands, and then back to her towel-wrapped figure.
"Julian!" she squeaked, hugging the garments to her chest. "What are you doing here?"
He leaned casually against the frame, arms crossed. "This is my house, Rose. I don't knock on my own doors."
Mortified, Rose scrambled back into the bathroom, her heart hammering.
She peeked out moments later. Empty again. With a shaky sigh, she stepped out, only to freeze again.
On the bed: a delicately laid-out flowery dress, soft as petals and vibrant in color. At the foot of the bed: a perfect pair of shoes, comfortable yet elegant. And beside them on the dresser—brand-new cosmetics, skincare, hair cream, shampoo, even makeup in her shade.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She touched the items with gentle fingers. "He bought all this… for me?"
She dressed quickly and entered the sitting room. Julian sat, casually flipping through a magazine like he hadn't just flustered her beyond recognition.
"I… Julian… thank you. You didn't have to do this," she whispered.
He looked up. "I don't do anything I don't want to do. The dress fits, doesn't it?"
She nodded, stunned. "Perfectly… I don't even know how you got my size."
"I pay attention. And the cosmetics—I wasn't sure what you used, so I asked the lady at the store to match it to your skin tone."
She blinked. "But this is what I use…"
Julian smirked, a flicker of pride in his eyes. "Of course it is."
"But… you didn't need to buy them. I already have mine at home."
He stood and walked toward her, voice low and commanding. "Leave these in my bathroom. So next time, you don't need to pack anything."
Rose hesitated. Next time? Did he expect her to return?
She said nothing, but placed the items in his bathroom anyway.
When she came back out, Julian motioned toward the dining room. "Food's ready."
She followed, half in a daze.
Her jaw dropped at the sight of the breakfast spread: eggs, sausages, toast, fruit, perfectly plated.
"You… cooked?" she asked, stunned.
Julian, without looking up from pouring himself a glass of juice, replied, "Rose, Cooking's just another skill in the arsenal."
She couldn't stop smiling. He even cooks better than me… she thought with disbelief.
After breakfast, Julian grabbed his keys.
"Let's go. I'll drive you home."
The ride was quiet, but comfortable. Rose stole glances at him behind the wheel—his profile sharp, his jaw firm, his aura a perfect mix of danger and tenderness.
When they arrived, she opened the car door slowly. "Thanks for everything… really."
Julian didn't smile. He only looked at her and said, "Take care of yourself, Rose.
With that, he pulled away just as her door opened—and there stood Daniel.
Oh no.
Another storm was brewing.