After what felt like an eternity of waiting by the door, Damien's frustration reached its peak. Just as he was about to give in to the urge to pound on the door once more, it creaked open, revealing Rose on the other side.
She had on a black robe that hung loosely around her, paired with a white jacket that seemed ill-fitting and out of place. Damien's eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance, his irritation mounting with each passing second.
"It's my coronation, woman! We're not attending a bloody funeral!" Damien's voice was laced with frustration as he struggled to contain his sharp tongue.
Rose met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and exasperation, her own patience wearing thin. She had spent considerable time searching for an outfit that balanced style and comfort, mindful of her changing figure. But Damien's lack of understanding only served to fuel her frustration further.
As Damien's eyes raked over her body, Rose bristled with indignation. She had no intention of compromising her own comfort and well-being for the sake of Damien's ego. She wasn't going to compromise her condition by wearing the sexiest outfit she had and flaunting her bodacious curves, which to be honest were growing multitudes.
But what did Damien know about handling or dealing with a pregnant woman talk more of when it came to Rose?
With all the anger boiling in her, she eyed him from head to toe, smacked her lips and stepped back into her room to jam the door before Damien swiftly blocked her path, his frustration palpable as he demanded an explanation.
"What do you think you're doing now? I pray you intend to change that thing you are wearing into something else, yes?" Damien's tone was incredulous as he stared at Rose, oblivious to her state of mind.
Rose clenched her fists, resisting the urge to lash out at Damien. She knew that indulging in her anger would only escalate the situation further.
Rose held back her hand from grabbing his wagging tongue and wrapping it around his throat, forcing him to choke.
As much as she wanted to indulge in that unholy fantasy, Damien wasn't worth it in any way.
"Matter of fact, you are right. I'm going to change and just sit in my room. The window offers a great view so be rest assured you have my support, from here!" Rose's words were laced with sarcasm as she attempted to push the door shut once more.
But Damien refused to budge, his hand firmly planted on the door to prevent Rose from closing it. With a resigned sigh, he went...
..."I suppose you can come. It doesn't look too bad," he said to her, turning his back towards the door and walking a few distance away from her.
Rose smiled seeing how the fuming rat a moment ago was now a blissful sheep.
Looking at the faces of those that spoke ill about her, she knew when it came to it, none of them could amount to what she has and was.Matter of fact, none of them were on her level and how she operated.
She remembered the relentless media scrutiny she had endured in her past life as CEO of Shelly Technologies, where disloyal executives had plotted her downfall behind closed doors.
To Rose, the whispers of the crowd were nothing more than the background noise of a familiar game. She had faced adversity before and emerged stronger each time. She had played all and every type of role before. This was like every day in the park for them.
What concerned her more was the subtle groan in her stomach.
So she quickened her pace, determined to catch up with Damien. As she drew near, she reached out and tugged at his cuff, compelling him to slow down. Damien turned to her, irritation plain on his face, but Rose paid it no mind. She had something important to ask, something that outweighed any animosity he may harbor toward her.
"Hey, you don't suppose they'd serve food there, hmm? Maybe a quick, quick snack?" Rose's eyes widened with desperation as she posed her question to Damien. She hoped to divert his attention from their strained relationship and onto a more immediate concern – her hunger.
Damien looked like he was on the verge of exploding with frustration as he glanced around the path, noting its increased solitude.
"Don't you think about anything other than food?" Damien's tone was incredulous as he directed the question at Rose.
Rose remained quiet, unsure if she had correctly interpreted his implication.
"We're about to enter a room filled with some of the most judgmental and agonizingly self-absorbed bastards in all of history, and all you can think about is food?!" Damien's words came out in a pant, his frustration palpable.
Rose arched her neck, studying him for a moment as he did the same to her.
"My lord, may I?" Rose asked innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"What? Since when do you require my permission to speak?!" Damien retorted, his irritation evident.
"Hmmm..." Rose walked up to him, staring up at his tall frame.
"Is Damien Durello, prince of Ancroft and ruler of the Durello house, afraid of a few old vampires?" Rose's voice held a teasing edge as she flashed him a half-grin, her fangs glinting.