From Terrorist Cell to Diamond Prison

Chapter 4

Just as Rosalie was about to politely decline, Fiona brought up her late parents.

"Your mother passed away so young, and I haven't been there for you these past few years," she said gently. "As your aunt, I'd really love the chance to get closer to you."

That stopped Rosalie in her tracks. No matter who Luke loved, Fiona was still family, and family mattered. Fiona had always been kind to her when she was little, and after losing her parents, Rosalie held tightly to the few relatives she had left.

When she arrived at the boutique, she spotted Fiona seated gracefully by the window, flipping through a fashion magazine with effortless elegance. There was a quiet poise about her that made it easy to see why someone like Luke might be drawn to her. If he was happy, that was what counted.

Fiona looked up with a warm smile.

"Rosalie," she said kindly.

"Auntie," Rosalie replied, her voice a little hesitant.

Fiona reached out and gently patted her head.

"You really do look just like your mother. She'd be so proud of you."

A lump rose in Rosalie's throat. Her mother's name still hit hard. Fiona noticed the flicker of sadness in her eyes and quickly changed the subject.

"Let's not dwell on the past," she said lightly. "I picked out a dress for you. Go ahead and try it on, see if it fits."

Rosalie took the dress and headed into the fitting room. But once she slipped it on, she realized it was far too loose, and way more revealing than anything she'd normally wear. She figured her aunt must've misjudged her size.

Just as she stepped out, adjusting the straps and tugging awkwardly at the hem, a familiar voice rang out from beyond the curtain.

"You ready yet?"

Rosalie froze.

Luke.

What the hell was he doing here?

Still, out of habit, she answered without thinking.

"Yeah… I'm ready."

The door swung open unexpectedly, and before she could react, she stumbled forward, right into Luke's arms.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, just as his expression shifted. Surprise flickered first, then something colder. His jaw tightened, brows furrowed, eyes darkening as they traveled down to the dress.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusing.

Rosalie scrambled back, flustered, but in her rush, her heel caught the hem of the dress. The already-loose fabric slipped lower, exposing even more skin. Before she could recover, Luke's jacket was suddenly around her shoulders, shielding her.

His voice turned icy.

"Seriously, Rosalie? Have you really sunk this low? Willing to do anything just to get my attention?"

Her heart stung. She bit her lip, shaking her head.

"I didn't, "

But the words caught in her throat. The way he was looking at her, like she was some stranger, wasn't something she could talk her way out of.

He didn't wait for an explanation.

"If this wasn't some desperate stunt, why the hell are you standing here in her dress, dressed like that, right in front of me?"

Rosalie looked down at herself, cheeks burning. Her stomach twisted with embarrassment.

"What's it going to take for you to finally understand your place?" he snapped.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Would he even listen if she told him the truth?

"Oh! Luke, you're here!"

Fiona walked over, feigning surprise. She took one glance at the situation and quickly covered.

"This is my fault. Rosalie's actual dress is still with me. I handed her the wrong one."