my cheeks a heated pink. I was to be escorted out, as if I could possibly hide in a little back room somewhere with the hope that nobody would find me. She delivered the message as if it had been a kindness, but we both knew I was able to manage on my own and had no need to be shown to the door. I wasn’t a young child or blind in any way. I could find the damn door myself.
Still, I smiled as if her offer was a simple matter of manners and fine hospitality, a service the hotel offered to all its guests.
“Thank you. I just have this one last suitcase to pack.”
Her brows rose. “Oh? Would you like me to have someone carry it behind us?”
I scowled, her feigned courtesy too much for me. “It’s not heavy. I think I can manage it myself.”
Nodding, the woman checked her wristwatch as if she couldn’t get me out of there fast enough. If I didn’t hurry, she might tap her toe a few times before finally trudging over to take me by the arm and throw me out.
“All done,” I said, zipping the bag closed and pushing to my feet.
Offering me a half-hearted grin, the woman remained by the door, following after me when I walked through and down the hall. It was an awkward companionship on the elevator and through the lobby, a concierge already at the car loading my meager belongings into the trunk.
At the back passenger door, a chauffeur stood waiting, his black suit pristine, as was expected by the Rose family, his eyes taking me in as if he couldn’t believe I was someone worthy of his time.
Sure, I didn’t look the part of the extravagant long lost daughter. I wore a pair of black wool slacks, my light blue shirt had wrinkles, and my hair was tossed up on my head in a haphazard mess after I’d been annoyed with its length while packing. But that didn’t mean this man had to stare at me like I wasn’t good enough for the back seat of his car. It wasn’t like I hadn’t bathed for days, my odor offensive.
I gave him a polished smile, an expression my parents would have been proud of, but even that didn’t wipe the stern look from his face.
Since when did Franklin sends thugs to pick me up? My chauffeur as a child had been a kind man. He’d never looked at me as if I were worthless. But then maybe they’d had to hire thugs as all their servants after the incident where so many heads of families had been gunned down.
Everybody who was anybody had been at that party, and I’m sure the lack of security hadn’t looked good for my family. Undoubtedly, the businesses and other networks managed by those families had been in chaos for years after they all died.
Giving up on appeasing the chauffeur, I stepped forward for him to open the door. He did so slowly, unconcerned that I might be impatient while waiting for him to do his job.
“Miss Rose,” he addressed me as I slid past him to sit on the leather seat. I inclined my head and said a curt thank you before he closed the door.
The car moved forward smoothly, and within another five minutes I was on my way back to a house I never thought I’d see again.
The moment we turned off a main road and began the long trek down the winding drive that led to the ornate front gates, I blew out a breath and rounded my shoulders, my pulse thudding in my throat as we rolled up to the gates and I saw the large metallic rose that branched out from its stem to creates the bars of the gate, thorns sharp along each one.
The gates opened, a slow crawl to the right and left, and then we were moving again to continue the drive to the house.
Not much had changed in the time I was away. My parents had loved to play on our last name and had dressed the gardens in large trellises of climbing roses of every color. They’d created individual beds of large bushes and had fashioned a hedge maze with the fragrant blooms.
The front of the four story mansion had more blooms climbing up the height of it, the perfume of roses so strong that I couldn’t help but lower my window and breathe it in.