The Vanity of Roses Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Epilogue

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and storylines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  The Vanity of Roses: Copyright © 2020 by Lily White

  Proofreader: Kim BookJunkie

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  THE VANITY OF ROSES

  by Lily White

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  OTHER BOOKS BY LILY WHITE

  MASTERS SERIES:

  Her Master’s Courtesan

  (Book 1 of the Masters Series)

  (Available on Smashwords and lilywhitebooks.com)

  Her Master’s Teacher

  (Book 2 of the Masters Series)

  Her Master’s Christmas

  (Novella in the Masters Series)

  Her Master’s Redemption

  (Book 3 of the Masters Series)

  Her Master’s Reckoning

  (Book 4 of the Masters Series)

  STANDALONE NOVELS:

  Target This

  Hard Roads

  Asylum

  Wake to Dream

  Four Crows

  Crazy Madly Deeply

  Rules of Engagement

  Wishing Well

  The Five (Also available in Audio)

  Sin and Discipline

  Dirty Girls

  In the Garden of Discontent

  The Vanity of Roses

  The Danger You Know (Coming April 2020)

  ILLUSIONS DUET

  Illusions of Evil

  (Book 1 of the Illusions Duet)

  Fear the Wicked

  (Book 2 of the Illusions Duet)

  ANTIHERO INFERNO SERIES

  Treachery Prequel

  Treachery – May 2020

  Fraud – coming soon

  Violence – coming soon

  Heresy – coming soon

  Anger – coming soon

  Greed – coming soon

  Gluttony – coming soon

  Lust – coming soon

  Limbo – coming soon

  DARK EXCLUSIVE - Available only on LilyWhiteBooks.com:

  The Director

  Callan

  I often wonder what most people picture when they hear the word beauty. It’s such a simple word, a base from which many images and meanings can be pulled, but for some there is only one image that comes to mind.

  Is a sunset the pinnacle of what beauty can entail? A wash of colors that blankets the sky, an abstraction of nature’s power written against the heat of a dying sun?

  Perhaps a newborn child to a mother’s eye is the meaning. Or the rarity of a lone white deer passing through the lush verdant green of a thick forest.

  It’s unthinkable, really.

  Incalculable.

  The amount of different opinions and images that weigh down a word with only six letters.

  Despite the impossibility of ever truly defining the word, I saw it then, heard it, two syllables whispering in my mind as I snuck past a door left cracked.

  It was a negligent error she always made because she didn’t care to protect herself. What could possibly happen to the baby of the family? Nobody would dare hurt the spoiled brat. Not in the fortress built around her with their family crest on the door.

  Steam rolled out of her bathroom, a hot mist that fell against the colder air in her room. Above her, a ceiling fan turned in slow, endless circles, and her pale skin prickled in response. I wanted to think it was my presence that caused the reaction, but she never sees me. Not even when I am the only person standing nearby.

  Lisbeth Rebel Rose, you are a monster, but more beautiful for it.

  Does she know that I’m always watching?

  Sometimes I think she does. Sometimes I believe that those hooded eyes and the puckered, dissatisfied shape of her mouth are intended specifically to lure me in. Ever since we were kids, she had that effect, her ridiculous childhood tantrums slowly transitioning into a cold silence that could chill my body to the bone.

  Still, she’d grown into a beautiful woman.

  Two years older than me, she had always been one step ahead. While I was the scrawny, worthless boy at her beck and call, she was a creature of habit, her favorite being to torture me.

  I existed to serve her. To appease her. To take her abuse, whatever she deemed necessary, so that she didn’t have to wait too long for her demands to be met.

  She could sit and I’d be her footstool. She could make a mess, and I’d clean it up. She could cry, and if she demanded I lick her tears, then my tongue would drag against her skin just like the beaten dog I was.

  My mother was hired to tend the family estate, but I was allowed to stay because I made a decent servant for the spoiled bitch of a daughter who wante
d a servant of her own to play with.

  Tonight was her debutant ball. Lisbeth was seventeen and would be formally presented to society. She would have a bevy of adoring admirers, and I would remain the poor maid’s son that fetched her dirty laundry, changed her bed linens and provided her with clean towels.

  In her eyes, I was the epitome of nothing.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t watch.

  Stepping up to a rack where a single white dress hung from a cushioned hanger, she waited for two women to walk up before dropping her towel.

  Back facing me, Lisbeth turned her head to scowl when one of the women spoke. It didn’t matter what the woman said, Lisbeth scowled at everything. She was a petulant brat that wanted for nothing.

  The towel fell to her feet. Soft. Damp. Still warm from the water and her body heat. My gaze traced up the shape of her calves, the tight muscle of her thighs, up higher to see the heart-shaped perfection of her -

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Snatched by the ear, I was dragged past Lisbeth’s door down a wide hall and around a corner.

  My mother slammed me against the wall. I reached to rub where my skin was left burning. No blood seeped from a wound, but that didn’t make the pain any less. I stared down at my mother where she stood glaring up at me.

  “Are you trying to get me fired? You know the rules.”

  My jaw clenched at her hissed reminder.

  The rules were a set of absolute requirements when dealing with Lisbeth. Only her. No other members of the family expected them of me. But then, the rules also applied to only me. As if I couldn’t be trusted around her for too long.

  They were simple enough. I was to tend to her whenever she demanded, was to run to fetch whatever her little heart wanted. I wasn’t allowed to linger in her area for too long, wasn’t allowed to look at her unless absolutely necessary, and most importantly: I was never allowed to talk to her.

  It hadn’t always been that way, but she’d pushed me too far when we were younger, and I’d gotten mouthy. She cried, her father yelled, and the rule was made. Never to be broken.

  I hated Lisbeth. And Lisbeth hated me.

  But still, I watched her.

  “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  My eyes were downcast, shame painting my cheeks with red heat. If not for this job, my mother and I would be on the streets, begging for scraps to eat. The Rose family had been good to us, and my fascination with Lisbeth had threatened their kindness on more than one occasion.

  But still, I watched her.

  Whether that be for lust or hatred, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was it couldn’t be helped. I was a fifteen year old boy coming to age with the raging hormones that came with it. I was tall, much taller than Lisbeth now, but I was still thin, still had a child’s face. Only time would fill out the strength and weight of my body, and time was a tortuous, slow crawl, a rancid beast that couldn’t shape me fast enough.

  “Give me the towels. I’ll take them into her room. You should go down and see what help is needed in the kitchen. Everything must be perfect. Lisbeth won’t accept mistakes for this night.”

  I handed over the towels, perfectly white and ridiculously expensive. Lisbeth expected everything to suit her extravagant tastes. Her father was only too happy to oblige her. It surprised me they didn’t have a pedestal upon which to perch their beloved doll of a daughter, or a glass case to enclose her. She was loved that much. Pampered beyond words.

  It made me hate her more.

  My mother reached up to touch my cheek. She knew what I was thinking, knew that if not for my love of her, I would have left the house years ago. I would have gladly relinquished my role as Lisbeth’s abused pet.

  “Go now. Before Franklin comes searching.”

  Franklin Rose was the overseer of the family’s estate. Younger brother to Marcus Rose, he was Lisbeth’s uncle and the only man with whom I had more than a cordial relationship.

  In many ways, Franklin had raised me. He’d been a strong male figure I could model myself after. But Franklin was never a pushover, and he was never weak. He simply didn’t have the highest standing in the family. Although, at times, I believed he preferred the shadows.

  Why take the lead when others could handle whatever businesses the family managed?

  It wasn’t like Franklin had to go without. He profited just like the rest of them.

  My mother grinned and patted me on the cheek, her anger from a second ago lost to the love she had for me.

  “Go. I’ll take care of the brat so you don’t have to for once.”

  I’d do anything she asked. If not for her, I’d have no one, and she had been a good parent to me despite the long hours she worked.

  Rounding the corner, I walked past Lisbeth’s room without looking through her door again, my long-legged steps carrying me down the hall and to a stairwell tucked in back for the servants to sneak around unseen.

  Quickly descending to the second landing, I stopped in place to find Franklin waiting for me.

  As usual, he was wearing a suit that cost more than everything I owned, his dark hair swept back and greying at the temples. He had shrewd grey eyes that missed nothing and a smile that was more a warning than anything friendly.

  A brow arched in question.

  “Did your mom catch you spying again?”

  “Fuck off,” I growled as I sped past him, my feet hurrying down another flight of stairs as he followed after me.

  Franklin had never been the type to get angry with me when I was in a mood. He found it amusing how Lisbeth could push all my buttons and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  Grabbing my arm when I reached the first floor, he spun me around to face him.

  “She deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.”

  I laughed knowing it would never be me to knock her down.

  “Then I guess you’ll be the one to do it. Or maybe whatever husband she finds tonight. They’ll worship her for as long as it takes to lift her skirt, but then move on when something more interesting comes along.”

  Franklin grinned.

  “And that won’t be you, will it?”

  “Fuck off,” I said again, attempting to pull away. His grip was too tight.

  Glancing back at him, I couldn’t read the odd expression on his face. Franklin looked like he wanted to tell me something, but he shook his head instead and let me go.

  “Hide in the kitchens tonight if you don’t want to see her. It’ll be safer for you in there.”

  Nodding, I turned and walked down a long hall, my arms reaching out to shove past a set of double doors leading into the kitchens. They slammed against the walls, drawing the attention of the other servants, before clattering closed behind me.

  I spent the next several hours helping prepare the dishes that would be served to all the guests, heaping piles of every food you could imagine. Polished silver appetizer trays and glistening flutes for champagne. Nothing was too exorbitant for the bitch princess.

  After a while, I was asked to deliver a few trays to the ballroom. The guests would be arriving within the hour.

  I’d just set down the tray on one of the large banquet tables when I heard her voice behind me, a silky melody of sound that scratched at my nerves while forcing my pulse into a pounding beat. I refused to turn around because I knew Lisbeth would only torment me.

  “Callan? Why won’t you look at me when I speak to you? Do you want to get in trouble?”

  A chorus of feminine laughter erupted around her, and I turned to face Lisbeth.

  She looked stunning. Her blond hair was styled back, half pulled up into a braid that crowned her head while the rest was left to flow down her back. Her white dress left nothing to the imagination, a tight bodice that showcased her supple tits while the silk below it hugged a tiny waist and round hips. I knew if she spun around, that heart-shaped ass would be on display.

  Lisbeth’s head tilted to the side, a sly
grin curving the corner of her mouth. Dark lashes fanned her ice blue eyes as she blinked once before saying, “I need to fix my shoe.”

  Her friends giggled at her side, and I nodded my head, ever the perfect toy, and turned around to kneel on the ground.

  A spiked heel dug into the muscles along my spine as she balanced her foot on my body for leverage. I wasn’t sure she was actually fixing anything. Instead she was using me as entertainment.

  It must have bored her that I didn’t flinch. I’d grown accustomed to the pain she could give. Eventually, she pulled her foot back, the heel clicking quietly against the floor.

  I stood and moved to leave, but she grabbed my arm.

  “Won’t you tell me I look pretty?”

  The heat of her breath washed across my cheek from how close she’d leaned into me.

  It would be so easy to strike out and snap her neck. So easy to teach her why it’s best to leave me alone.

  I couldn’t speak to her, and she knew that. But why not torture the poor servant’s kid that existed solely to amuse her?

  My hand fisted, but I smiled instead, my gaze dragging to lock on the floor.

  Lisbeth rolled her eyes and shoved me aside.

  “You’re useless.”

  Inclining my head once, I walked away, hatred rolling through my chest.

  The party started an hour later, the grand ballroom filled with beautiful people in fancy clothes and the finest of everything. They drank and talked, admired Lisbeth wherever she stood, their fake smiles and envious eyes following her where she walked.

  As usual, Lisbeth had her entourage close by, a coy grin stretching her lips each time they noticed another wealthy man that wanted to take her home for the night. I stood in the background watching and wondering what asshole would finally do to her what I had always imagined.

  How was it possible to want somebody you hated so much? Shouldn’t the body be as turned off as the mind? It didn’t seem to matter, the disgust I felt. It only made me want her more.