Blush Pink Rose: A Rose and Thorn Prequel Page 4

  Looking at him again, I tried to reawaken every feeling I’d had for him. He was going to be the father of my baby, after all. Surely I had to feel something besides the blind attraction, the neediness of my body and the wetness between my legs when he touched me in all those hidden spots?

  “Tommy,” I whispered, and he turned around to face me.

  A grin lit up his face, and he reached me in two quick steps, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear while I looked away, blushing.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said darkly.

  Right then, I realized he thought this was just another one of our hookups. Like the ones before, when we were half passed out on cheap wine and high on the feeling of our bodies mashing together.

  “Wait,” I said, pushing him back a little. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” he said roughly, pressing himself against me, his hands all over me. “All I care about is you… that sweet pussy of yours. You thought I’d forgotten?”

  I struggled against him, but he wouldn’t let go, just chuckled and held on tighter.

  “Tommy!” I cried out. “I’m pregnant.”

  He let go of me like I was on fire. His eyes searched mine in panic, trying to find out whether this was the truth, so I just nodded and lowered my gaze to the ground. In that moment, I felt deeply ashamed. And his next words only served to make matters worse.

  “How could you let this happen?” he barked at me. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Right away, any thoughts of dealing with this together flew out the window. He thought it was my fault, and he would continue to blame me for it until the end.

  “I… I don’t know,” I said softly.

  “You’re going to get rid of it, right?”

  I raised my eyes to him, his expression dark and menacing. The only thing I could do was shrug, making him laugh maniacally and run his fingers through his hair.

  “You can’t be serious, Carina,” he said. “You can’t keep the thing. It’s going to ruin everything for you.”

  He would never be involved. It would always just be me and the baby, the “thing” he kept mentioning. Like it wasn’t even real. I hated him, despite the attraction still burning in the pit of my stomach. I wanted him out of my life. I didn’t even want him involved. Whatever happened to the baby and me would be solely my problem.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said firmly. “Just, hold me. Please.”

  I moved closer to embrace him, but the second I drew nearer, he let out a disgusted snarl and pushed me back. I tripped, falling on my ass, and stared up at him with tears welling in my eyes.

  “Don’t touch me,” he grunted.

  And then suddenly, we were no longer alone.

  A tall, dark, and menacing figure approached us and in seconds, wrapped their fingers around Tommy’s throat.

  I was so shocked I couldn’t even shriek. I just stared at what was happening before me, my heart pounding as Tommy’s eyes bulged and his head lolled to the side.

  The dark figure turned around to face me. It was a man. He wore a suit under his dark hooded overcoat, but his eyes burned with hatred.

  “Would you have me spare him?” he asked in a dark, low voice. “The father of your unborn child. Do you want it to have a dad?”

  I stared at him, my mind swimming. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Tommy. The man who had assaulted me, the man who fucked a baby into me and was now pretending it was all my fault.

  I imagined a life where I had the baby, and Tommy had to be a father. Maybe marrying him out of obligation, being forced to sleep with him when I didn’t really want to. A lifetime of being pushed around, mistreated. The baby growing up in a bad environment, in a family where only one parent gave a shit about it.

  And what was the alternative? Tommy resenting me for the rest of my life, never spending any time with the kid, just being a constant disappointment. Harming the kid in ways that would fuck up its head.

  “No,” I said firmly, and I watched the man choke the life out of him.

  His body dropped to the ground with a thud once he was done. My head spun as I sat on the ground. My knees would have buckled if I tried to get up.

  The man approached me, but for some reason, I didn’t shrink back in fear. He offered his hand, gloved in shiny black leather, and I took it. The hand that had killed the father of my child. He helped me stand, and I smoothed my dress, looking anywhere but at him. I wasn’t scared. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me like he had Tommy.

  “You will never speak of this night to anyone,” he told me firmly. His voice had an American accent. “If you do, I will find out, and I will kill you.”

  I didn’t doubt his words. I’d just seen him kill someone in cold blood. I knew he was telling the truth. One wrong word and my life would be over.

  “I swear.” I nodded, finally raising my eyes to his.

  He was incredibly handsome and impossibly tall. I felt something churning in the pit of my stomach when I looked at him, but I couldn’t even hate myself for it. I was hot for the man who’d killed my lover, the father of my unborn child. I should have been deeply embarrassed, but all I felt was desire for this mysterious stranger who’d just saved me from a nightmarish future.

  “I hope you keep your word,” he said, stepping closer to me.

  My heart fluttered when he raised his hand and touched his fingers to my cheek.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said simply, his fingers trailing down to wrap around my neck. “But if you make me, I will.”

  And then, he turned and left, disappearing into the shadows of the alley.

  I took a deep breath, not taking a single last look at Tommy’s body on the ground. Instead, I turned and walked away with my heart pounding. Robotically, I returned home and got ready for bed. I climbed between the sheets and stroked my belly absentmindedly as I let my mind wander.

  ***

  “Carina!”

  I turned towards the sound of the voice, seeing Harlow’s beaming face. Amber was there too. She’d been cast as an understudy, but she was still thrilled. She was too young to get a bigger part, and I was grateful for that. She could have been serious competition otherwise.

  “We’re going out to celebrate,” Harlow said, smiling brightly. “You want to come with us?”

  I thought of the alternative. Lying in my bed, worrying about what had happened the previous night, the memories plaguing me.

  “Yes.” I smiled back. “I’ll come with you.”

  There was no denying that what happened in the back alley shaped me, changed me.

  I just didn’t know what an impact it had made yet.

  As I left with the girls, I was still innocent.

  But I wouldn’t stay that way for long.

  Sneak peek

  Keep reading - the first chapter of Blood Red Rose is waiting at your fingertips!

  It was Christmastime, and London was freezing. A lacy coverlet of snow had fallen, not promising to stay but whispering of cold, exciting nights under the stars and the inky blue sky. It felt like magic was in the air, sweet, playful magic that promised to work its forces on every single person in the Estate Theater.

  None of us noticed the creeping darkness, slowly bleeding in through the brick building, its cold, claw-like tendrils enticing me to join the dark side.

  It was a freezing night. In the dressing room at the back of the theater, it was too warm though, the air thick and fragrant with the scent of flowers and the room filled with noise. It was a Friday night, well past midnight, and the crew had collapsed in remarkably good moods after their first performance of The Nutcracker.

  I fell back into a chair, a sigh leaving my lips as I kicked off my ballet shoes. I was ecstatic, high on our success and dazzled by my performance. I had done more than well, and for the first time, I had managed to thoroughly impress my trainer, Madame Dugare. She was harsh on me, always urging me to do more, jump higher, tr
y harder. And I gave it my all, sometimes wondering when it would pay off. Every vestige of my power went into dancing, every coin I made towards costumes and training. I lived for it, lived for the dance and the exquisite beauty I felt permeating my body as I stood center stage, en pointe and with my thick lashes open to reveal the crowd.

  Oh, the crowd... I lived for them too, every single person in the audience, their applause, their cheers, their inability to look away.

  Mummy used to call me a dancer when I was a little girl.

  She said she knew I'd be dancing under the stars, among them, and finally, becoming one as I stepped front and center, my eyes bright with dreams and my body poised, trained to perfection.

  For a long time, I thought I was doing this for her. The dancing, the life - no personal contacts, knowing no-one but the people connected to the business. Devoting my whole life to dance, to ballet, letting the stunning art shape me into a person.

  Other times, when I was feeling low, I wondered what Mummy would think if she saw me now.

  With blistered, broken feet, and a body so thin it looked emaciated. With hair that shone like gold and big blue eyes that seemed manic when I danced.

  What would she think of the girl I had become?

  But it didn't matter either way now. I was a success, I felt on top of the world, and by tomorrow, I would be joining a more prominent ballet. There was no way they wouldn't take me after seeing this performance. The critics were left speechless.

  "Harlow!"

  I raised my eyes, thick with eyeshadow and fake lashes, towards the bent woman approaching me.

  "Madame," I said excitedly, standing up on my weary feet, my eyes sparkling as they connected with her dark brown gaze.

  "I spoke to a scout from The Great Russian Ballet," she whispered, and my consciousness fought the exciting information, coming in panicked, anxious waves and hitting me as I almost passed out. I hadn't eaten in days. I needed to fit my costume. I needed this dream to happen, and I needed to be a star.

  "And?" I begged, my voice so desperate I almost felt ashamed of myself.

  "And they loved you," she said solemnly. "I gave them your number, but I didn't let them come back here."

  "Madame!" I whimpered. "It could be my only chance! How could you!"

  She started to answer, but I didn't wait for her explanation, turning around instead with a desperate flourish and letting out a cry of protest. Just then, the Theater receptionist showed up with a bright smile and urged several employees in, each of them carrying a bigger vase of flowers.

  "Oh!" I exclaimed, approaching the giant bouquets.

  I'd never gotten flowers before that day.

  They kept on coming, bringing gorgeous white roses, velvety peonies, pretty daisies, orchids. So many flowers, to join the ones already filling the room. Except now they weren't meant to say 'good luck.' Now, they were here to congratulate me on the job I would surely be awarded for my flawless performance.

  I flitted from bouquet to bouquet, trying to decide which one was my favorite, when the receptionist cleared his throat. Turning around, I surveyed him, urging him to go on. He held out his hand with a single red rose between his gloved fingers. It was beautiful, thick velvet petals forming a perfect bud, the color a light blush pink. Dewdrops glistened on the leaves. It was beautiful.

  "Only one?" I asked, jutting out my bottom lip.

  “Yes, but-“ he started, but I cut him off.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Better than nothing.”

  The receptionist laughed nervously, shrugging as he said, "Some gentleman just brought it over. He's seen your performance I take it. Congratulations, Miss Granger. It was truly out of this world. I was so impressed by-"

  "Thank you," I replied with an icy smile, my attention already elsewhere. "You can put the rose on my dressing table if you'd like."

  I turned my back on him, feeling his surprise at the rejection as I sauntered back towards the rest of the cast. He was disappointed, of course, and any other day, I never would have treated him that way. But a mere few hours ago, I was Harlow Granger, the girl next door who was always living from month to month, barely covering her expenses to pursue a stupid dream. And now, with the ballet behind me, I was someone. A beautiful, talented dancer with nothing but a bright future ahead.

  Madame was gone by the time my attention snapped back, and my lips pursed in annoyance. She was supposed to be by my side, apologizing profusely for letting the agent get away. Hopefully, she was gone to try and convince them to give me another shot. The Great Russian Ballet had always been a dream of mine, and I wanted desperately to be a part of it.

  Still, it was near impossible to put a dampener on my mood. I was excited, the adrenaline rush from the ballet still coursing through my veins. And my girls' spirit was the same. The room was filled with giggling and excited laughter, and someone started passing around cigarettes even though they were strictly forbidden in the dressing rooms. I stared at the cancer stick when it reached me, wondering whether I should do it, break my rules for once and have some fun.

  I took a long drag on the cigarette, and my friend Amber lost it when I started choking the next second. The smoke was thick and cloying, and I stuck my tongue out with the unpleasantness of it.

  "This is horrible!" I announced. "I don't know how you can stand it."

  "I heard it keeps you skinny," Amber grinned wide. She wasn’t smoking herself. We wouldn’t have let her. She was only thirteen.

  We spent the next several hours in the dressing rooms. Most of us were too young to go out to a bar, and I knew my figure meant I looked even younger than my eighteen years. Besides, there was nowhere I would have wanted to be but in the company of people who'd worked with me on the ballet. It had been such a fantastic success, and I wanted the feeling of being loved to last a lifetime.

  "I have to get home," Amber said a quarter to three a.m.

  "Nooo," I whined. "Please stay a little while longer."

  "They’ll be waiting for me," she said apologetically. "You know I'm happy for you, Harlow, but I have to work to do. You'll get an offer tomorrow, I'm sure of it. But for me..." She shrugged. “I just had a small part today. I need to keep working toward my goal.”

  "I understand," I mumbled, flushing lightly and suddenly feeling embarrassed about the way I'd acted.

  Especially with that receptionist earlier. I'd been a royal bitch when he'd done nothing to deserve that kind of treatment. God, this was already going to my head.

  I gave Amber a quick embrace and promised to call her with any news and developments the next day.

  I felt sorry for her, knowing that I'd gotten off lucky because Madame wanted to teach me herself, only accepting the paltry sum I made as a waitress for my training. I'd treated her too harshly too, but I'd just been too excited to worry about anyone else.

  "I'll see you soon," I called after her, and Amber waved me off as she disappeared down the hallway and into the cold, snowy night.

  There were only a couple of girls left, and we started passing around a bottle of Becherovka, a Czech drink one of the understudies had pinched from her parents. She told us the whole story, and I found myself giggling over her antics while pretending to like the sharp, cinnamon flavor. It was disgusting, but it was the first drink I'd ever had, and I wanted to savor it.

  The girls started dropping like flies, leaving one by one until I was begging Carina, the last girl around, to stay until we finished the bottle. But she was adamant - she had to go home. She'd danced as Clara that night, technically a more significant role than my own Sugarplum Fairy, but everyone in the theater knew I'd outshined her.

  Still, I didn’t want her to go. It would mean the night would be over, and I'd have to head home myself. It was time to say goodbye to the magical evening.

  I said goodbye to Carina with tears in my eyes and sat down on a chair in front of the giant lit up mirror as she gathered her things and left. My reflection stared back at me as I reache
d for the makeup remover, lathering a cotton wool pad with cleansing milk and wiping away at my face. My lashes came off, then the lipstick. The thick paints, foundation, blusher, mascara, everything off, revealing my porcelain pale skin underneath, smattered with freckles. I wasn't drop dead stunning, but I consoled myself that all that mattered was that I was a dancer. My body and the things it could do made up for my too-turned-up nose, my too-full lips and my too-hooded eyes. At least my lashes were thick and dark, and I had decent eyebrows to go with my blonde hair. Most of the other girls had to pencil theirs in.

  I didn't stop until all the makeup was gone. Then I tossed the cotton pads away and changed out of my beautiful, glittering costume into a plain skirt and turtleneck. I pulled on some tights and added my thick wool coat, bundling up with a scarf and my gloves in my hand. I looked miles away from the glamorous ballerina who had danced center stage that night. Now, I was just a little girl with a dream. But not for long. Soon, my fantasies would become a reality.

  Starting for the exit, I regretted leaving all those bouquets there to wilt. My eyes came to rest on the single, plump pink rose lying in front of the mirror. I wrapped my fingers around it and gasped when it pricked me, a fat, bloody drop running down my thumb where I'd touched the thorn. I stared at it, then sucked on my thumb and glared at the rose. I couldn't leave it behind though, something telling me to take it with me.

  My gloves were smooth pink leather, inherited from my grandmother, and I slipped them one before taking the rose in my hands again. It was coming with me, but it wasn't going to hurt me again.

  As soon as I stepped outside through the back door, the cold air hit me like a force to be reckoned with, icy and frightening in how freezing it was. I shivered under the light of the streetlamp, my feet leaving prints in the fresh snow as I made my way towards home. It was about twenty minutes away, and I was considering being naughty and just calling a cab to take me home. It had been a long night.

  But I had no cash, and I'd need the money to pay my rent - if everything went according to plan, the last time I did for the shitty apartment I lived in. Hopefully, by next month, I'd be living in a gorgeous new place with a new job, too.