جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 10

(Rosa’s POV)My bouquet was shaking.I told myself it was nerves. Just nerves. Every bride got them, the cold hands, the tight chest, the way your heart beats so loud you're convinced the person standing next to you can hear it.But Marcus was forty minutes late.The pastor leaned close, his voice gentle the way people get when they're trying not to make something worse. "Rosa, would you like to wait a little longer?"I opened my mouth to say yes.Then my phone buzzed.Sophie had sewn a tiny ribbon pocket into my bouquet wrap three weeks ago.I pulled the phone out with two fingers. Marcus's name glowed on the screen.I already knew. The way you know when something precious is falling and you're too far away to catch it. That horrible suspended second before the crash.I can't do this. I'm with Robbie now. You're too predictable, Rosa. Too boring. I need someone spontaneous. I'm sorry.I read it once.Then twice.Then a third time, very slowly, like maybe the words were a puzzle and i

(Daniel’s POV)I had rules.No unnecessary attachments. No emotional entanglements. No situations I couldn't control and exit cleanly.I had broken every single one of them in the last three hours.The elevator doors opened directly into my penthouse suite, and Rosa stepped inside ahead of me. She stopped at the windows. The entire Vegas Strip spread out below us, and she stood in the middle of it looking like something that didn't belong in my world at all.She was still half-wearing her wedding dress under the borrowed jacket. The woman had married two men today. One who ran. One who should have.She turned around."This is really happening," she whispered.Something about the way she said it cut through the last layer of whiskey and logic I had left.I crossed the room and framed her face in my hands. Her skin was warm. Her brown eyes were steady, burning, completely unafraid despite everything they'd seen today."Do you want it to?" I asked."Yes." No pause. No performance. Just y

(Rosa's POV)The rejection emails all started the same way.Due to recent concerns regarding your professional conduct…I stopped reading them in full after the seventh one. There was no point. The ending was always the same.I closed the laptop and pushed it away from me across Sophie's small kitchen table.Two weeks. Two weeks of this table, this laptop, these emails. Two weeks of Robbie's handiwork spreading through every professional network I had spent six years building.Rosa Park had a mental breakdown at her own wedding. Rosa Park is unstable, unreliable, erratic. I didn't know exactly what she'd said or to whom, but the results were clear. Every translation agency in the city had heard some version of the story.Not one had called back.Sophie came up from the bakery, flour on her apron, hair escaping its bun. She took one look at my face and set two mugs of tea on the table without asking."Any luck?""Blacklisted," I said. "Every single one."Sophie sat down. Wrapped her ha

Rosa’s PovOne suitcase sat by the door. That was everything I owned that still mattered.The housekeeper waited near the elevator with her hands folded. Older woman, gray hair pulled back, a uniform pressed so sharp it looked painful."Mrs Gosling?""Rosa is fine.""I'm Greta." She didn't smile, didn't frown either. "Mr. Gosling asked me to show you to your room.""My room.""Down the hall from his." Greta's eyes flicked to my suitcase, then back to my face. "Separate.""Of course it's separate."She led me past white marble floors, past a wall of windows showing half of Manhattan glittering below us, past a kitchen that looked like it had never once been used for actual cooking."This is yours." Greta opened a door onto a room bigger than Sophie's entire apartment. Cream walls. A bed that could fit four people. Not one personal item anywhere."It's beautiful," I said, because it was, and because I didn't know what else to say standing in a stranger's house that was apparently also m

Rosa's PovThe kitchen smelled like coffee when I walked in. Daniel sat at the counter, already dressed for the office. His tie was knotted tight, his jacket on, a folder open in front of him."Morning," I said, reaching for a mug."Morning.""Sleep okay?""Fine."I poured coffee I wasn't supposed to be drinking anymore, then remembered, then poured it down the sink instead. He watched the whole thing without comment."There's tea in the pantry," he said. "Greta got the caffeine-free kind.""Thoughtful.""It's for the baby."I set the mug down harder than necessary. "Right. For the baby. Of course.""What's that supposed to mean?""Nothing." I grabbed the tea bag. "How was your night?""Busy.""Anything interesting happen?""Not particularly."I waited for more. Nothing came. He closed the folder, slid it into his bag, checked his watch like the room itself was costing him money."I have an early call," he said. "I won't be back for dinner.""Daniel.""There's money on the counter for