Rose Taylor. The most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on. Her long blond hair lays fanned out over my pillow. Her smooth eyelids closed, hiding her crystal blue eyes and making her long eyelashes rest against her pale cheeks. Her soft, plump lips are parted slightly as she breathes in her sleep. Her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes. Her lean body rests on my bed on top of the covers.
Rose Taylor is mine. This beautiful angel will be my wife soon. I have waited months for my opportunity to make her mine. I wanted the timing to be right. I should have taken her the moment I first laid my eyes on her, the moment I knew I didn’t want to live my life without her.
I first saw her when she was leaving a club with a friend. I had some business to take care of with the club owner. I was sitting in my car wrapping up a phone call when she walked out. The wind blew her gorgeous hair back and she pushed a strand behind her ear with one hand while laughing at something her friend had said. The smile on her face was breathtaking. All my attention suddenly shifted, and she was the only thing on my mind.
I had never felt that way before, not even about my ex-fiancé. Sure, I loved my ex, but she was nowhere near as special as this goddess. I couldn’t help but imagine spending the rest of my life with her beauty. I would do anything to make her happy, so long as she would be mine. With her by my side, I truly felt I would finally have everything I ever wanted in life.
She soon disappeared into her friend’s car and they drove off. Even with her being out of my sight, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I finished my business with the club owner and went home. I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts swarmed with images of her beauty. What little sleep I did get was filled with fantasies of her laying in my bed wearing nothing but an engagement ring on her finger.
The next morning, I made my way to my in-home office and I called in Elliot, my most trusted man. I describe the girl I had seen outside the club and insist that he figures out who she is. After Elliot contacted the club owner, interrogated some bartenders, and watched some security footage he returned to me with a name, Rose Taylor. He also provided me with the name of the other girl she was with, Emma Pierce.
I insisted that he find out everything there was to know about Rose Taylor and report back to me. He isn’t unused to gathering information on people. I like to do my research, and I usually turn to him to dothe job before seeking out a trusted private investigator. After a couple of days, he placed a file on my desk. I quickly thanked him and dismissed him.
In the front of the file was a large picture of her. I couldn’t help but stare at the picture for a few minutes, taking in her beauty. Also, within the file I found a photo of her driver’s license, social security card, and birth certificate. From the birth certificate I could determine that she is 21, her father’s name is Charles Taylor and her mother’s name is Beth Taylor.
After going through all the information in the file I knew almost everything about her. She dropped out of college last year and started working full time at a Starbucks nearby her apartment. Her mother had been filed as a missing person 9 years ago, when Rose was 12, and there have been no leads as to her location.
She had moved out of her father’s house when she was 18 years old. While she spends most of her time at work, she spends her spare time volunteering at a retirement home and an animal shelter, she goes ice skating at an indoor ice rink, and she spends a lot of time at the public library by her apartment. She doesn’t have a car so she mainly walks to get places but sometimes she takes the bus or a friend will drive her. She spends a lot of time with Emma Pierce but there are no other significant people who show up at her apartment or that she travels to.
I spent the majority of the day memorizing every aspect of her life. Later that day I got in my car and drove to the Starbucks she works at. Once there, I waited for her to get off work. Five minutes after her shift ended, she walked out the door in her black shirt and pants, green apron, and Starbucks hat. She had a pink purse hanging over her shoulder.
At the sight of her, my heart skipped a beat. Even all worn out after work, she is still the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She started walking back to her apartment. I wanted nothing more at that moment than to give her a ride, but I couldn’t. She shouldn’t get into stranger’s cars. Although she could trust me, she doesn’t know that yet. I climbed out of my car and followed her, staying a good distance behind her so that she wouldn’t see me.
She passed by a homeless man on the side of the street and she took the time to stop and dig through her purse for some money to give to the man. She flashed him her heart-melting smile and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. I wanted that smile all to myself. It took all my willpower not to punch the homeless man. While this man did nothing wrong, it angers me that he is on the receivingend of her smile. What did he do to deserve her beauty that I have not done?
After what seemed like forever, she walked away from the homeless man and continued her trip back to her apartment. I watched her for a while, admiring the way her body moved. Every second I spent watching her I grew more deeply in love with this woman I had never met. I continued following her back to her apartment before she swiftly disappeared inside.
I sighed as my only option then was to walk back to my car. On my way back I passed the same homeless man. I decided to take after my sweet Rose, and I fished out a hundred from my wallet and handed it to the man. He tried to deny it, saying it was too much but I just ignored him and continued to walk back to my car. I couldn’t be bothered to give him more of my time.
I let a month pass after that. I had assigned two of my men to watch over her at all times. From this, I learned her daily and weekly routines and her spontaneous decisions. I also could gather a list of all the people she came in contact with apart from work.
I decided I needed to see her again shortly after that. Just having my men watch her movements wasn’t enough for me. I got in the habit of driving to Starbucks every morning, ordering a latte from the friendly cashier, and watching my Rose make my drink. She was always the one making the drinks. She would finish making my drink and call out my name, often going to make another before I could thank her for mine. I loved hearing my name come out of that sweet mouth of hers. I couldn’t help but fantasize about her calling it out in bed.
I would take my latte to a table where I had a good view of her and I would sit with my back against a wall working on my laptop and drinking my coffee that tastes so much better just because she made it. I would watch her concentrate on making the drinks then smile at the people as she handed them their drinks. Watching her smile at other customers made me jealous. Every morning I would vow to get her to smile at me.
After about a week of visiting the Starbucks every morning, I learned to watch my cup in the line. When she grabbed my cup to start making it, I would head over to where she delivers the drinks. That way when she called my name, I was right there to claim it. She would flash me her beautiful smile and tell me to have a good day before returning to the other drinks.
This was my routine. Every weekday for the next couple months I would go to Starbucks to hear her call out my name, see her smile as she handed me my drink, and watch her busy herself with making other drinks. I started to recognize the people who came in regularly, the men that would beg her to write her number on their cup. It infuriated me. She was mine. Not only should she not have to work for a living, she shouldn’t have to deal with these low-life men eying her up like a piece of candy.
The more I went to Starbucks, the angrier I started to get. I hated overhearing the conversations about nailing the hot barista. It took everything in my power for me not to put them in their place. I even managed to catch some girls eying her up. The more I watched her and saw her interact with her thirsty customers, the more I felt the need to claim her as mine.
Then the day came, this morning actually, when a particularly attractive male collected his drink from her. While I couldn’t overhear the rather long conversation she had with him, I knew he made her giggle and smile. He was obviously flirting with my girl. He asked for her number to which she complied, slipping him a napkin with her number on it.
I couldn’t help myself. I followed him out and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around to face me.
“Were you just flirting with my girl?” I asked, my anger creeping into my voice.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” He looked genuinely confused.
“The barista, Rose, she’s my girlfriend.”
A look of understanding then shock passed over his face. “Oh! I’m so sorry dude, I swear I didn’t know she was taken. You’re one lucky man, I’ll tell you that.”
As if I needed scum like him to tell me that. I had to resist rolling my eyes at him. “Give me the napkin she gave you.”
He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he would refuse, but he handed me the napkin anyways. Satisfied, but still angry, I held my hand out to him which he took to shake goodbye. Once his hand was in mine I harshly twisted until I heard a snap and he yelled out in pain.
“If you ever talk to, or even so much as look at my girl again, I’ll make you wish you were never born. Do you understand?” I spoke in a low growl, knowing it’s one of my most intimidating tones.
He nodded to me rapidly. Satisfied he got the point, I released him, allowing him to scurry away calling me crazy as he did.
I got in my car and called Elliot. I had been planning this moment with him for a while now and I finally couldn’t wait any longer. I told him that tonight he was to carry out my plan with a few of my men. I then drove home and prepared for her.
While it would have been simple enough to take a traditional approach and ask her to be my girlfriend, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t handle the thought of her rejecting me, or even worse my reaction if she did. I never was the best at anger management, it’s something my therapist has been working on with me for a while now.
Besides, I couldn’t handle giving her that type of free will after my ex. If she dated me willingly, what was stopping her from breaking things off with me? Or even worse, cheating. This girl just might have the power to break me if she did, and I can’t let that happen.
Not to mention, why would a perfect angle like herself even want to be with me? She could have any man or woman in the world, what makes me special? I don’t think a good girl like her would fall for a bad boy like me without a little nudge in the right direction.
Around 11 Elliot came and knocked on my office door. He told me that they drugged her on her way home from the ice rink and that she was safely asleep and unharmed in my bed. I thanked him and dismissed him. I immediately wrapped up the work I was doing and made my way to my room. I hesitated for a moment before slowly opening the door. There she was, laying on my bed, something I have fantasized about since I first saw her outside the club. I walked in and closed and locked my door behind me. I sat on the edge of the bed which is where I am now.
I watch her sleep peacefully in my bed for the first night of many. I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face causing my finger to glide softly against her skin. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. She is finally all mine, my beautiful Rose.
I start to dose off in bed next to her, comforted by her body laying next to mine. I resist the urge to reach out and pull her body to mine, not wanting her to freak out if she were to wake up in my arms. The last thing I see before sleep takes over is her beautiful face laying on the pillow next to mine.
I wake up early the next morning, excited to start my first day with my angel. I sit up in bed and look down at Rose. She is still peacefully asleep. I can’t help but worry slightly at how long she has been out for. If my men somehow fucked up drugging her, I will have their heads.
Just then, her eyes squint closed then relax again and a soft groan escapes her lips, indicating that she is starting to wake up. I watch as she slowly regains consciousness. She brings her hand to her face and rubs at her eye before her eyes slowly blink open.
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