Hi Everyone! I literally binge watched the new season of Bridgerton in one day and it inspired me to write a new story about enemies to lovers! In this story, Jack and Rose both come from wealthy backgrounds and it's not set on The Titanic. Here, Rose is a bit inspired by the character of Eloise in the show. I hope to you'll enjoy it and if you have any ideas to inspire my writing, please feel free to let me know! xoxo

Chapter 1

Like a blank canvas she watched the crowd unfold in front of her. She was invisible, blended in with the pale shaded wallpaper of the room. Her fingers traced the edge of her glass, leaving a faint mark of red wine on the tip of her thumb. The alcohol seemed to be her only companion this evening. Nobody saw her, but did when she wanted to escape. Rose was an object that needed to stand still and only be there to be admired. She was a radiant young woman, there was no doubt about it, yet she always remained in the shadows of her elder sister. Violet DeWitt Bukater had been given the exclusive title of this season's diamond. She was radiant, proud and expressed everything that a man sought out for in a potential spouse. She thrived on the attention of being desired and held every bachelor in the whole city close to her through invisible strings. Then, she'd let them snap and laugh at her own power. Even their mother was obsessed with the idea of the perfect match. It was the only way for a woman in this day and age to have some sort of control of her own life. It is what Rose detested about her existence. The moment she led out her first breath in the magnificence of the world, everything was already planned out for her. Every step, every action, every encounter would be the exact same as her ancestors. This life of prosperity was nothing but a never ending cycle of dictations made, in the first place, by men.

Gazing ahead, there they were. Violet was the spitting image of their mother, only taller and with more curves in all the right places. They strutted down the ballroom like lions lurking their prey. They walked slow enough to be looked at, yet keeping a pace that did not make it so obvious. The pink silk of her gown caught the light of the chandelier perfectly. Her hair was pinned up to a height that didn't go unnoticed. Rose caressed the velvet of her own dress. It was a dark blue with white lace. A dress from last season, which many people had already seen her in many times before. But it still fitted her perfectly and the softness of the fabric took away the piercing sensation of her corset poking in her waist.

"I am starting to believe you'd rather have me dead if you tighten this things even more." She groaned as the ladies were getting themselves ready. Violet, who was sitting on her bed laughed at her ridicule and her mother placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You will get used to it in no time, dear. But you must know that in order for your sister to find a suitable husband, we, as a whole family, need to look presentable." Rose rolled her eyes at her words and straightened her back whilst her maid helped her to put on her dress next.

"Are you seriously going to wear that dreadful old thing again, Rose?"

She nodded her head. "Indeed I am, sister. It would be such a waste of fabric and hard work, would it not?" Most days were filled like that. The critical eyes and unnecessary comments about both her appearance and behaviour. Rose had never been the beauty of the two. She was always just simply there and had to watch how the rest of the world swooned over her sibling. In a way, she did prefer remaining in the background. It was a place where, at given times, she could sneak away to make up her own peace of mind. She could explore the world on her own terms. Read scandalous stories and go to parts of town her parents wouldn't even want to find her in the afterlife. She had always longed for the notion of how the real world looked like beyond the gilded cage she grew up in. It worked in many ways, nonetheless she remained a DeWitt Bukater. A family of infinite power and wealth. Therefore, it was not possible to be truly free.

Ruth suddenly stood in front of her and Rose was caught back into reality. There was a smirk plastered on her face. It frightened her youngest daughter in some way for it was rare to see her mother smile. She took her hand and lead her towards the centre of the dance floor. "There is someone who has been having his eye on you for the whole evening." Ruth whispered in her ear. Rose's stomach seemed to drop as she repeated the sentence inside her head. Following her mother's eyes she faced a tall blonde haired boy who had tried to grow a beard, but failed miserably. Then she stopped, shook her head and turned towards Ruth.

"What about Violet? She is the one in search for a husband, not me."

"You're my daughter too, Rose. Besides, you are moving towards eighteen years of age. You shall have to keep your eyes open too."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. The grand chandelier was swinging right above her head, the reflections of the crystals beaming against the walls. The light caught her eyes and she squinted her eyes. A shadow had appeared in front of her, being visible in the darkness. She didn't want to look up for she was afraid her nerves would make her faint. She had always believed dancing with a partner was for princes and princesses. She was just Rose, a simple flower that had always confidently remained alone. Her mother had already walked away and she could feel the touch of a hand on her elbow.

"It is good to see you again." He spoke softly with a slight tremble in his voice. Reginald Horace, the son of an old English aristocrat, was a year older than Rose herself. She had known him since they were little. With his long and lumpy body, he had always looked like a middle aged man. Rose had always pitied him in some way for he seemed rather lonely. The young man had just returned from his eduction in London and was now ready to settle for a future back in The States.

"You've have turned into a true gentleman, Mr. Horace." Closing her eyes once more she tried to ignore his desperate facial expressions. It was easy to give him false intentions. Reginald took Rose's hands in his, pulled her close to his body and waited for the music to start before her swung her around the room. Within an instant, she felt more dizzy than before and casted her glance around the room hoping to find a recognisable face among the many strangers. His voice first seemed to blend in with the tunes before taking over entirely. It was only a matter of minutes and she already knew his whole life story. Rose's body turned numb, the heat of dancing phantoms rising to her head.

"Excuse me, but I'll be back in a minute." The lie was spoken into the air a bit too easily. Turning around, she trotted towards the big window where the moon was lit up brightly like a pearl on a string. A grasp took hold of her arm and turned her around swiftly. The presence of her father towered over her and she looked at his frowning eyebrows.

"Don't disappear on me once more, Rose." He said firmly, recalling her previous behavioural disaster that happened the other month. She had fled the horrible hours of a banquet after a sudden rush of anxiety had sneaked a way into her body and she managed to walk her way home all by herself. It wasn't a tactic move for now her freedom had been cut down to its minimal existence and she was being watched like a prisoner on the verge to escape.

"I won't," She snapped back, "The wine has just… I just had a bit too much to drink and I simply need a bit of fresh air."

His difficult expression disappeared and he nodded his head. "I want you back inside in ten minutes."

"Thank you father." A gush of wind hit her face when she stepped into the garden. It was the end of winter, with the scent of spring hanging around somewhere and the soft warm weather waiting patiently to make its arrival. Her heels clicked onto the stones of the terrace and she walked a few steps down to make sure she was out of sight of everyone. Leaning against the railing, Rose watched over the garden and focused her ears on the sound of the fountain. The noise of running water had always calmed her nerves. The beach was her favourite place. Looking over the sea, she knew how endless everything was and that, in the grand scheme of things, her existence was less important than her people would often tell her. Nature makes no distinction between origin, gender, and social status. It was always stronger and faster than humankind had themselves believed to be. You couldn't fight it. Rose swung her purse in front of her, dug her hand in it and got hold of her pack of cigarettes. She looked up, making sure her father hadn't followed her outside and was spying on her from a distance. Smoking was her guilty pleasure, an activity that was thought to be nothing but appalling. A groan escaped her lips and she tossed her head back in frustration. Then out of the corner of the darkness, a person appeared from nothing.

"I find it surprising a lady like you to have such a hard time on a fine evening like this." Rose recoiled and clenched her chest, "I am sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Well you did, sir." She turned around and saw a tall man slowly moving up to her. At first, she was afraid it would be Reginald who couldn't leave her alone, but the voice of this man was calmer and more vivid. He stepped underneath the light. His hair was smoothly combed back and he had loosened his bow tie, yet he looked just like any other penguin tonight, "Do you have a light, perhaps?"

He grabbed a set of matches out of his pocket and lit up her smoke before lighting his own. Rose immediately felt calm as the nicotine entered her body. They shared a moment of silence before he spoke once again. "It's a circus in there, isn't it?"

Rose chuckled. "And if you must know, I am not very fond of circuses. They endless tricks of everyone and trying to impress one another. It is exhausting."

"And you are not trying to impress anyone tonight, miss?"

"Is that a question for me or my sister? I am more of an additional accessory to my family, she is the showstopper." The stranger now had a smirk plastered on his face and he extended his hand. "I am Jack Dawson."

Rose looked him up and down and blew out the smoke of her cigarette. "Are you one of the Boston Dawsons?" She asked curiously.

"The one and only." His tone was casual, but Rose knew that they were one of the richest families of all of the east coast. His grandfather, Geoffrey Dawson, had started his oil business which had turned into a goldmine within years. Rose had heard many stories about the Dawsons and was aware of some business matters between them and her father. They had four sons in total, but she had never met a single one of them until right now. "May ask for your name, miss?"

"Oh yes, of course. It's-"

"Rose!" Her father's voice echoed from above. Her body stiffened for a second and she tossed the bum of her smoke over the edge not onto the floor.

"I have to go now. Please don't give away my unladylike manners."

"Your secret is safe with me." He said, but she was already rushing back up the stairs. Mr. DeWitt Bukater was standing in the doorway and urged his daughter to come back inside. The room looked even more crowded than a few minutes prior and her stomach turned. How badly she wanted to flee again. In the far corner of her eye, Reginald was still waiting for his dance partner with a glass of champagne in either hand and Rose braced herself for another round of sickening twirls around the room.

Jack Dawson opened his eyes to the bright light that peaked through his curtains. His had pierced because of the pain and his throat burned from the many smokes he had consumed the other night. It was his first social appearance in months and he had hoped it would be his last. The position of being the second oldest son had always felt like a dream to him. The lack of responsibility was nothing but a gift and he could escape the dreads of this high class environment by sneaking off overseas. Europe was the place he thrived. The culture, the people, the carelessness if you roamed around the right places. It inspired his mind and artistic skills. Jack Dawson's life was all fun and games until the death of his older brother Geoffrey, named after his late grandfather. He had always been the sensible one, the one with a vision and good intentions for their family's business. He had been employed from the age he was fifteen and followed his father to every meeting and business trip. But young Geoffrey never had good health and one morning, a little over a year ago, his heart stopped completely. Jack was called back home within an instant and was ordered to follow in his brother's footsteps. He had to carry his legacy and everyone tried to look for a piece of his brother within him, but they could never find it. He had never been his elders' favorite, for it was obvious by the look in their eyes. To them, Jack was nothing but a byproduct.

He threw the blankets off his naked body and headed towards to bathroom where he stared at his own reflection in the mirror. His eyes seemed sunken in and the healthy european glow was now long gone. His hair looked too long and his eyes didn't seem as vibrant blue as they once were. The hickey on his shoulder was still visible from the woman he loved a few days ago. He traced it softly, wishing he could make it disappear by only his touch. Splashing cold water onto his face, he walked back into his room, opened the curtains and showed his manliness to the rest of the world. Luckily, there was no one passing by. He missed his nude swims in the open lakes of Italy when the sun had slowly started to rise. After his fitness activities he'd stroll down the town and collect fresh fruit from the market. Nothing tasted as sweet as southern oranges. Despite their language barriers he had even managed to make friends and he'd visit them almost every single night for dinners and laughter. Then, Jack Dawson was alive. Now, he was rather a lonesome soul.

A hastened knock was heard on his door and he quickly threw on his nightgown before opening it. It was their housekeeper. With big worried eyes she cleared her throat. "Your father has asked you to come down to the library as quickly as possible." She informed him.

"I'll be down in a minute."

Her eyes, still big, met his. "I believe it is rather serious, Mr. Dawson. We could hear his voice even from the servants' quarters." Mr. Dawson always raised the tone of his voice when he was in distress. He sighed, nodded his head and rushed out of his room. Once arrived in the hallway he indeed could hear the growling of his father and sharp chatter of his mother. He slowed his pace, preparing himself for whatever was to come. Peeking his head around the corner, his parents urged him to get inside. He took a seat next to his mother and looked at the two of them for a moment.

"We've already had a fight," Mrs. Dawson said, "So we'll spare you that."

"To be fair, mother, you are making me rather scared."

"Something scary has indeed happened, Jack," She took a deep breath, looked at her husband and then looked back at her son, "We've tried our hardest to fix it, but it was simply impossible. Two years ago, your brother invested a great deal of money into other young companies. It was almost half of the fortune of Dawson Inc. No one knew about these shares he had until a few months ago. Those companies never expanded and crumbled into dust. The money is now gone, Jack."

"I'll go back to Boston today and see what I can manage to arrange." Jack stated. He tried to not show any form of emotion.

Mr. Dawson stood up from his chair and shook his head. "It is no use, son. We've tried all we could."

Jack shook his head and sighed. "So we are just going to let it be and watch our family business crumble into dust as well?"

"Of course not. We just have to find another solution to the problem."

"And what might that solution be?"

"That you ought to find yourself a wife as soon as possible, Jack."