Rum and Roses

Chapter 1

Silas

The aroma of coffee beans filled the air, accompanied by the whirl of the espresso machine and mellow music playing on the speakers of the cafe.

I loved being a barista, but I loved working with Rosalie more.

She was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. We’ve been working together for about eight months now, and it’s been the best eight months of my life so far, all because I got paid to hangout with her practically every day for four to seven hours, give or take.

My eyes drifted towards the front door as the bell chimed.

A smile formed on my face, watching Rosalie enter the cafe.

As always, she arrived ten minutes before her shift began.

An angelic glow surrounded her in the soft morning light.

She had no idea how beautiful she really was.

I’d been watching her for weeks—no, months now.

Every time I saw her, it was like the world around us evaporated, and in that moment, only she mattered.

Today felt… different. Different in a way I didn’t like.

“Good morning, Rosie,” I hummed, lifting my hand to finish pouring the milk into the iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel syrup I was making for her. It was her favorite, and only I knew how to make it exactly the way she loved it.

My sweet Rose, if only you knew how devoted to you I truly am.

“Morning Silas,” she replied, joining me behind the counter.

I handed her the finished drink.

“Mm, thank you.” Rosalie lifted the cup to her lips, turning to face the man who beckoned her by name to the other side of the counter. The distance between us grew as she went over to him—who the fuck is that?

I clenched my jaw, my heart pounded with a mixture of irritation and possessiveness that I tried to ignore. Who was I kidding? That girl made me feel things I’d never experienced before.

Who the fuck is this lanky hipster with too many tattoos and a god awful man bun who dares smile at my Rosalie?

My gaze drifted between the two of them, fingers drumming against the mahogany countertop as the tension coiled within me, contorting my insides. But I tried to keep my composure.

Can you fucking believe this? Of all days for some joker to make his move, it just had to be today, right when I thought I might finally get a chance to ask her out. The nerve of this guy.

I watched as Rosalie smiled politely at him, but I could see the flicker of discomfort in her eyes. A spark of recognition that the guy didn’t pick up on. His ignorance made my blood boil, I could feel the veins in my neck pop. It was infuriating.

Did this guy really think he could just swoop in and charm her without consequence? Who did he think he was? Fucking Magic Mike?!

I cleared my throat, picking up my own cup of coffee—nothing fancy, just plain black.

I never cared for all the crap some people liked to put in their drinks.

It only spoiled the natural rich taste of the roast. Rosalie once told me that black coffee tasted like dirt, and frankly it did to an extent.

But that’s what I enjoyed. The bitter liquid felt like poison swirling within my stomach.

I couldn’t bear listening to this hipster fuck try to sweet talk her right in front of me.

The audacity! I’ve invested far too much time learning about Rosalie for him to ruin it now.

I understood what made her laugh, what made her retreat into her own thoughts, how she ticked.

What made her, her. The warmth of her presence was not something I would let anyone jeopardize. Not now, not ever.

She was mine.

Mine, mine, mine, fucking mine.

Every word that the guy uttered, every chuckle that left his lips, made my skin buzz with fury, every nerve on alert.

The mere thought of Rosalie responding to him positively ignited a rage I found hard to control.

I grit my teeth in an attempt to distract myself, envisioning grabbing the damn bastard by the collar, dragging him into the alley, and silencing him once and for all.

It was a bloody visualization, but the fantasy brought a sense of calm, a twisted satisfaction that I craved.

Who did this guy even think he was? Flirting with Rosalie like he had some claim to her? The fuck. She was perfect. She belonged with someone who understood her—someone who would fight for her, protect her from the scum of the world. The scum like him.

There was no one better for that role than me.

I watched the guy lean closer, invading Rosalie’s personal space. The mere arrogance sent a rush of heat through me. Enough was enough.

Don’t overthink it—don’t —

Rosalie excused herself, turning away and facing me.

Those baby blue eyes met mine. Perfect strawberry blonde curls framed her face just right, and that button nose of hers…

My heart skipped a beat, wishing I could count every freckle that painted her porcelain skin.

For a moment she smiled. It was a small, almost shy smile, yet it felt like a promise of sorts.

I smiled back at her, only to be interrupted by a damn customer. I sighed, plastering on a fake grin and shifted my attention to the woman ready to order.

“Good morning. What can I get you?”

The guy hung around the cafe for most of the day. I didn’t like it, not one bit. Deciding to put matters in my own hands, I eavesdropped only to get the information I needed. That being just his name. Chad.

What kind of douchebag name was Chad anyways?

I quickly found his social media, job, and address during my fifteen-minute break.

This town was small; it wasn’t hard to track anyone down if you really wanted to.

When my shift ended, I lingered around the alleyway by the parking structure waiting for him to leave. When he finally exited the cafe, I pulled my hood up and followed him into the lot. Cloudy skies and neglected lighting that should have been updated years ago gave the space a dim glow.

My focus wasn’t on our town’s flaws, but on Rosalie's safety and how badly I wanted to deck this guy in the face. Avocado-on-toast motherfucker.

I tightened the straps of my backpack, quickening my pace behind him, then pulled out my switchblade from my back pocket.

I flicked it open as adrenaline took over.

Sharpening my senses, I launched forward.

Wrapping my arm around him from behind, I dug my blade into the guy’s stomach.

My opposing hand covered his mouth to muffle his cries.

I twisted the blade only to pull it out, shift my hand upwards, and stab him again to puncture his lung.

Again and again, I wrenched, torquing it before jabbing in a kind of mechanical rhythm I fell into.

I shifted the hand I had over his mouth, balling my fist into his hair and yanking his head back.

“You thought you could take her from me?” I whispered into his ear. He struggled against me, blood pooling onto the concrete below. “No one will ever take her from me.”

No one, and I mean no one will ever stand between Rosalie and I. Ever.

A gurgled gasp left his lips as I swiped the blade across his neck.

Letting go of him, he crumpled to the ground with a loud thud.

I took a step back, glancing around to ensure no one else had noticed.

I pocketed my switchblade. Keeping my hood up, I dragged his lifeless body towards the dumpster.

With each step that I took I felt liberated, knowing that Rosalie would remain pure, untouched and safe from prying eyes such as his who didn’t understand her beauty.

Once the body was taken care of I took off my black sweatshirt, stuffing it into my backpack.

I hurried to where my bike was parked and put my helmet on.

Before closing my visor, I paused, glancing into the cafe, relieved to see Rosalie was still at the counter, blissfully unaware of the threat I’d taken out for her.

Don’t worry, Rose, I’ll keep you safe…

Knowing she’s out of danger for now, I twisted the key, revving the engine of my bike and drawing her attention. With a wave, I took off down the paved road.