Chapter 7
Silas
Ghosted again?
The words were a brutal slap to the face, a testament to her vulnerability, her loneliness. A burning reminder of how utterly careless the world was with what was mine.
I had been keeping tabs on her, of course. I always did—in a concerned, watchful way. I knew what days she had class, what time her ballet lessons were, who she primarily hung out with. I knew everything about her. I knew her better than she knew herself. She was mine.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
Rosalie was my sunshine, my breath of fresh air, the only woman in the entire world who truly understood me.
And I, her. No one would ever understand her the way I did.
I knew her dreams, her fears, her every fleeting emotion.
And I knew with certainty that settled deep within my very bones, that she needed me too.
She just didn’t realize it yet.
‘But hey, who needs a boyfriend when booze will keep you company.’
The caption seared itself into my brain.
She was hurting—lost. And the thought of her, adrift and vulnerable in a sea of indifferent strangers, ignited a primal possessiveness within me.
I knew what guys were like at parties. Fucking animals.
My jaw clenched, my knuckles turned white.
I imagined leering eyes, clumsy attempts at seduction, and the inevitable disappointment that awaited her when history repeated itself.
This world didn’t deserve her, didn’t understand her, but I did. I always would.
The solution—the only solution—was obvious.
I had to intervene; I had to protect her, to bring her home.
I couldn’t wait any longer. Enough was enough.
I rose from my chair, my movements deliberate and focused.
My room was a testament to my own meticulous nature.
Clean, organized, and sparsely decorated.
Everything was in its place, a silent reflection of the control I had over my life.
Except for the burning, untamed desire that now raged within me.
I grabbed my keys and headed towards the door.
I had to go get her.
I knew where Sarah lived, I made sure of it. It was easy enough to find, given she was the Mayor’s daughter.
I was determined. I would be Rosalie’s protector, her hero, her savior. I would show her that she didn’t need to search for happiness elsewhere because I was right here, waiting.
I wanted to drive my bike, but that was too risky with how drunk she was.
I could take my truck, but then there would be the risk of cameras picking up my license plate.
Leaving me the only option to walk. I would take the normal way there and carry her back the backway where it would be too dark to be caught on any security footage.
The entire walk there was an anxious blur.
My vision tunneled. I could focus on nothing else except for Rosalie.
My Rosalie. I took a breath to compose myself.
I wouldn’t scare her, no. I would be her savior.
Making my way up the steps to Sarah’s apartment, I could feel the bass of the music rattle my insides.
I hated it. I hated all of it. I hated the careless behavior, the shallow connections, the predatory glances.
A goddamn carnival of false promises. I had a headache, and I had only just walked through the door.
My eyes narrowed, the chaotic noise faded around me as my one and only goal was finding Rosalie in this godforsaken crowd.
Seriously, did no one have self respect and common decency in this place?
The party was wild with noise, lights, and drunken celebration. Pushing myself through the crowd, I scanned the faces, searching for hers.
Ah, there she is.
Being led down a dimly lit hallway by some wannabe surfer looking guy. “Hey!” I called out, rolling my shoulders back and puffing my chest out. Her face was flushed, her eyes unfocused. When she turned to look at me, she wasn’t looking at me but right next to me.
God fucking damnit, how drunk are you?
I was relieved to see her, to see that she was safe, but only because I showed up in time. That tight little black dress of hers caused me to clench my jaw.
Fuck, she was gorgeous. My eyes drifted towards her breasts and—Are her nipples pierced? Wearing such tight clothes only made my desire for her swell, but now wasn’t the time. No. No. No. NO.
“Silas?” her words slurred.
I cleared my throat. “Rosalie,” I said in a calm and steady voice.
“Silassss,” she wavered, her eyes struggling to focus.
I smiled at her. “Yeah, it’s me.” I held my hand out to her. “Come here.”
The other guy stepped between us. “Hey buddy.”
“Don’t hey buddy me.” I frowned. Pushing past him, I carefully slid my hand around Rosalie’s shoulder.
“Wateryoudoinhere?” she asked.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw your post, and that wasn’t like you at all.”
Rosalie pouted, giggling soon after. “I’m fineeesilasss…”
I knew she wasn’t fine. I could see the pain, the insecurity, the desperate need for connection hidden behind her drunken facade. I wanted to scoop her up into my arms, hold her close, and whisper all the reassurances she needed to hear, but I knew I had to play my cards carefully.
“You don’t look like you are, Rosie. You’re drunk,” I said gently.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” I guided her through the crowd.
I wouldn’t force her to come with me. If she resisted, I would respect her wishes, for now.
But, she didn’t fight it. She leaned into my touch, allowing me to lead her towards the front door.
“Seriously?” the guy muttered.
I ignored him; I didn’t have time for wannabe surfers. Especially ones with poorly bleached hair. There wasn’t even anywhere to surf. We live in fucking Colorado. I digress, that wasn’t important, Rosalie was what was important.
My eyes drifted to Sadie who was far too busy grinding on some guy to see us, and Sarah was nowhere to be seen.
“It’sloudinhere—” Rosalie mumbled, her steps a little unsteady.
“I know… I know… too loud. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
She nodded, following my guidance I navigated her out of the apartment and into the cool night air.
A surge of possessive relief washed over me knowing that she was in my care.
Carefully, I scooped her up in my arms. One hand rested on her lower back and the other beneath her knees.
She was far lighter than I imagined her to be, and so tiny—nearly a foot shorter than I or so.
I made up my mind; she wasn’t going to her apartment. No, she was going home with me. She would be safest with me, under my supervision. Someone had to look after her—this was too close of a call for me to not bring her home with me.
I am doing this for her.
“I’mhungry,” she mumbled.
I smiled. “That so? I will get you something to eat in a little bit okay?”
“Okaysilas,” she replied, closing her eyes and resting her head against my chest.
Fuck, I waited for this for so long. Her hair smells like strawberries.
I followed the dimly lit path towards my house, passing her apartment in the process.
Luckily, she seemed far too inebriated to notice.
After walking for a bit, I reached my gate.
My house wasn’t all too big; two bedrooms, two bathrooms, one-car garage, and a full basement.
A few acres of land hidden within a sea of trees. It was quiet, and peaceful.
The alcohol had clearly taken its toll on Rosalie. She reeked of it, not that it mattered much. I was worried about possible alcohol poisoning, but I would tackle that here shortly once I had her inside safe and sound.
Her body was limp and nearly weightless.
I carried her inside. My steps were silent and sure, feeling the soft curve of her body against mine.
I continued into the basement that I had prepared for her in the past weeks and carefully laid her down on the large, plush bed.
Soft blankets and expensive pillows surrounded her, and I eased her head up, sliding a soft pillow under it.
The room was decorated to her liking, and even had part of the basement renovated as a mini studio for her to continue ballet practice.
It was a sanctuary, crafted just for her. I had plans… So many plans.
She always liked my social media posts of me playing the violin. Now, I could play for her anytime. Maybe I could even convince her to dance while I played for her.
My sweet little ballerina.
I sat beside her, a glass of water in my hand, and gently lifted her head with my free hand. “Rosie… hey… hey… can you drink this?”
She whined.
“Please,” I held the glass to her lips.
She took a few small sips before pulling away.
“Good girl,” I whispered, sliding my hand through her hair.
I placed the glass on the nightstand beside her.
I shifted, taking her shoes off for her, and set them on the floor beside the bed.
Followed by her jewelry which I rested in the box I had for.
I took her phone, pocketing it for the time being.
She would be more comfortable in the silk pajamas I had for her, but she was too drunk to change, and I certainly would not strip her of her clothes without consent. Absolutely not.
Sure, I just kidnapped the love of my life and locked her in my basement, but I had manners.
I wasn’t some sort of monster. I was doing this for her own protection—she didn’t know what was good for her, and that was just another reason why she needed me.
I couldn’t help how desperate I was to protect her.
I just couldn’t stand seeing her hurting anymore.
Sooner or later she would realize that I would make her happy. All she needed to do was open her eyes to the truth.
I really wanted to see if her nipples were pierced, but I refused to look. I wanted her to feel safe, not like a prisoner.
I loved her. I loved her so much, and she just didn’t know it yet.
I tucked the blanket around her, feeling the softness of her skin. I brushed a strand of her hair from her face.
I knew it wouldn’t be easy. She wouldn’t understand my reasoning—that I was doing it out of love—not right away at least. More than likely, she’ll wake scared, confused, angry, and definitely hungover.
But I will be patient. She just needed to see that I was the only one who truly cared about her, the only one who truly saw her, for her.
I leaned over, admiring her sleeping face, and whispered, “You’re safe now, Rosalie.
You’re home.” I pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.
It was a promise, a covenant, and a vow to her.
Leaving her to sleep in peace, I went up the stairs, locking the door behind me.
While she rested, I made myself a cup of tea.
Worried that she wouldn’t just fight me, but that she might hate me.
A soft breath left my lips, making my way back to the basement door.
I leaned my back against the wood, sipping my tea.
I fully intended to spend the night outside her door, guarding her. I’d wait… as long as it took, until she saw my love and devotion.