"Desire is the starting point of all achievement, not a hope, not a wish, but a keen pulsating desire which transcends everything." - Napoleon Hill

Saint

The roses were a message. Crimson, vibrant, and utterly out of place in Veronica’s minimalist loft. They spoke of intrusion, of access, of a deliberate violation. Someone had gotten to her, slipped past her building’s security, and left a calling card that was both beautiful and menacing. It tightened a knot in my gut. Veronica was vulnerable, a target, and the thought fueled a cold fury within me.

Seeing her fear… it was like a punch to the chest. Veronica was strong, capable, but beneath the surface, I saw the vulnerability, the barely-contained terror. She’d called me for help, and I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that I wouldn’t let her down. I’d protect her, no matter the cost.

The drive to the Regency was tense. Veronica was quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing cityscape, but I could feel her anxiety radiating like a physical force. She’d called Marcus, her friend. I trusted Marcus; he was a good man, loyal to a fault. He’d look into this, use his connections to try and unearth who was behind the roses.

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I made sure her suite was next to mine. It wasn’t just about proximity; it was about ensuring I could keep her safe. I didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

After talking to Marcus myself, getting his take on the situation, I went to Veronica’s room. She was perched on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, a picture of barely-controlled nerves. I asked her if she was hungry, suggesting dinner downstairs. Food was the last thing on her mind, I could tell, but she agreed. It was a small victory.

Down in the hotel’s Italian restaurant, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the chill that clung to me. The smell of garlic and herbs was comforting, and for a while, as we talked, I could see some of the tension drain from Veronica’s face.

We talked about everything and nothing. I told her about a case I was working, a messy affair involving corporate espionage and double-crosses, and she listened with rapt attention. She shared stories about her modeling career, the challenges, the pressures, the constant scrutiny. I listened, genuinely interested. It was important to me to understand her world, to see her, not just as a victim, but as the strong, independent woman she was. And as she spoke, animated and passionate, I found myself noticing things I hadn't before. The way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she loved, the subtle curve of her lips, the way her hair, long and luxurious, fell past her shoulders to her waist. It was a cascade of dark, shimmering beauty, and I found myself mesmerized by it. Despite the fear and uncertainty of the situation, there was a warmth between us, an undeniable connection. I felt the familiar pull of attraction, a desire that was both physical and emotional. It was inappropriate, perhaps, given the circumstances, but I couldn't deny it. Beneath the surface of concern and protectiveness, there was something more, something that resonated deep within me and that my feelings for Veronica, whatever they were, would only complicate things further.