Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Francesca Rose
Texas
Once we arrived at the compound, I was escorted to my own wing of the mansion.
Most of the night was spent unpacking my suitcases, anxiety not allowing me to sleep, and I didn’t feel safe enough to explore the house.
Last night, in the dark, I hadn’t been able to take in all that the property had to offer.
But in the light of day the view from the window seat in my room shows that there’s much to explore.
The Rose compound resides on a vast amount of land.
My bedroom overlooks the backside of the property, which includes a stunning pool and lush garden.
I watch as landscapers below move about completing their various tasks for beautifying the land.
In the distance, I can see men wearing all black riding golf carts on the edge of the property.
Every so often they stop, getting out to investigate the wooded area.
Michael’s explanation of the security level for this family wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest. My father’s security measures were nowhere near this degree of strength or detail.
Of course, I had bodyguards for major events, but it wasn’t something he’d felt I needed all the time.
The thought of security brings a specific bodyguard to mind.
I watch the ripples move across the clear water of the pool as I think about my conversation with Michael.
He was forthcoming when I asked what made him give up his seat in heaven for employment with the Rose empire.
There was no shame in his explanation for joining their ranks.
The money allowed him to pay for his mother’s medication when she fell extremely ill.
After she passed, he had no family or anyone else to lean on.
It was easier for him to stick it out with the men he had grown close to.
His story made me check my privilege and realize that maybe everyone here isn’t nefarious, that some people truly believe this is their only path to a comfortable life.
I know I’m a little more comfortable since Ashton elected for us not to share a bedroom.
The relief is staggering. It fills me with hope that Ashton isn’t pretending this marriage is anything other than an arrangement neither of us wants.
He very easily could’ve demanded that I share a bedroom with him, but he’s giving me space.
Maybe he and I can make this situation work after all.
Technically Ashton’s in the same predicament as me, being forced into a union to strengthen business ties.
Surely, he would be open to a side deal within this arrangement.
I save that thought for my conversation with him—whenever that actually happens.
Last night during the ride over, he dismissed himself to the bedroom in the back of the plane and I didn’t see him again after we landed.
There’s a soft knock on my door, interrupting my thoughts.
I glance down at my bathrobe, pulling both sides closer together.
I wasn’t in a hurry to get dressed after my shower this morning, enjoying the time with myself.
I take solace in the fact that whoever’s on the other side of the door is at least knocking instead of barging in.
“Come in,” I call out tentatively.
A woman probably in her mid-forties enters the room. She moves gracefully across the carpet, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a warm smile that puts me at ease.
“Good morning, Francesca. I’m Kathy Martin, the house manager here at the Rose compound.” Her voice is strong yet inviting.
Tightening the belt of my robe, I step forward, shaking her outstretched hand. Kathy wears a soft red lipstick that compliments her complexion. Her shoulder length curly hair is styled half up, half down, showing off high cheek bones as brown eyes assess me.
“Nice to meet you, Kathy,” I say, genuinely happy to find another welcoming presence. “What’s it take to get one of those?” I say, gesturing towards her cup.
“Come on downstairs to the kitchen when you’re ready and I’ll fix you a cup. We can talk through your needs and any allergies or dietary restrictions you may have. My job is to make sure you are settled here nicely.”
Ashton doesn’t strike me as the type to care anything about what I would like or need, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I know it’s beneficial to have the people who make this place operate like a well-oiled machine on my side.
“That sounds great! Give me –”
The rest of my thought catches in my throat when Michael appears behind her in the doorway.
His eyes are taking me in and I’m doing just the same to him.
I don’t mean to stare, but how is it possible that he is even more fine in the daylight?
Kathy turns to see what’s caught my attention and smirks.
“My apologies for interrupting, ladies, but Mr. Rose would like to meet with you, Francesca. In his office,” he explains in that deep timbre.
The way my name rolls off his tongue causes goosebumps to raise on my arms. I know getting involved with someone on Ashton’s staff is extremely dangerous, but I can’t help but wonder. Especially after experiencing the chemistry between us last night.
“Oh, of course. Give me a moment to get dressed and you can show me where his office is,” I say, making my way into my large walk-in closet.
I shimmy into the light wash jeans I’ve decided to pair with my hot pink and green crew neck sweater. The entire time, my focus remains on the exchange happening outside my closet door.
“And once she is done with Mr. Rose, do you mind escorting her to the kitchen?” Kathy asks politely.
“Of course I don’t, Ms. Kathy.” Michael is light, almost playful, highlighting that Louisiana accent.
Kathy’s response is low, but I still catch it. “You’re far too good for this place, Michael.”
“Aww you know I can raise hell with the best of them.”
The two share a laugh as I step out of the closet. Kathy leaves my bedroom, and I’m greeted by the softer version of the devious smile Michael gave me last night.
“Ready,” I announce.
Michael’s eyes trail up and down my body now that we are alone, and the heat is just the same as when I stood before him in my dressing robe. Neither of us should be giving the other this much attention, but the pull feels too magnetic to resist.
“Right this way, Princess.”
He smirks as I pass by, rolling my eyes, but as I step in the hall, I’m fighting the urge to smile.
I’m not sure why I believed Ashton and I would be able to work together through this marriage.
A man like him doesn’t share power or even the illusion of power with someone he deems beneath him.
That much has been made crystal clear. Michael walked me to the main study of the mansion for my meeting and before I entered the office he warned me not to sit or speak until Ashton had acknowledged me.
It was a weird suggestion, but I’m still learning how things operate around here, so I took the advice.
Twenty minutes have passed as I stand here watching him ignore my presence. It’s been just enough time to kill any easy cooperation I would’ve shown for the sake of a partnership. Fuck this man.
“Have a seat.” Ashton’s tone comes out sharp and dismissive. He barely looks up from his work. It’s clear he’d rather be doing anything else other than having a conversation with me. The feeling is so fucking mutual. “This won’t take long. I have far more important work to get through.”
“Heaven forbid I keep you from the money and murders of the day,” I say sarcastically, flopping down into the seat cushion.
His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow in on my face.
Ashton Rose is definitely far more imposing in the daytime without the shadows of night hiding who he is.
I refuse to cower or show any fear without him giving me a reason to.
Here’s hoping that my bodyguard was right about holding onto my fiery spirit.
Ashton releases a deep sigh, taking his glasses off and casually tossing them atop his desk. “You have one purpose here. Give me my heir. After that I won’t have a need to touch, let alone speak with you, again.”
I keep the shock of how dry and clinical his words are off my face, grabbing hold to the fact that this is my time to clutch the strings of fate.
“One child. That’s all.” I state the demand without room for reproach. “I won’t put my body through that trauma more than once.”
“One is all I need. I won’t stand for children bickering over who will take over. Everything that I am will be passed on to whatever gender you bring into this world. You just make sure you don’t get in the way of that.” He delivers that last line in warning.
How progressive. Little does he know I have no plans for children. I can push a baby out and wipe my hands of this entire situation for all I care.
“We can coexist, and I promise not to interfere with your business or the training of your seed, but I will hold you to not touching me again,” I say, fully buying into the delusion that I actually have a say. “Once I’m pregnant, we don’t even have to speak to each other.”
“I prefer hookers, anyway. They know exactly what I want and don’t expect love,” he snarls, looking at me as though I don’t meet his standards. As if I didn’t see his expression after he raised my veil last night.
“And if I want to take companions for my needs?” I ask, poking the bear.
Like the man you’ve assigned to my head of security.
His eyes narrow in assessment of my question. “Don’t embarrass me, Francesca.”
That response comes through clenched teeth. My name on his tongue sounds like nails on a chalkboard. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over, since we have found common ground in this sham of a marriage. I stand with a sharp smile on my face and turn to leave the room.
I respond over my shoulder, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Michael is still waiting on me as I exit the office. Immediately faced with temptation, I know I just lied through my teeth. I dream of embarrassing Ashton, with this man, more than anything.