A WAY OUT

(Thompson White's Mansion - 7:15 AM)

"Roseline!" the voice called out after the knock.

It was Thompson. He hadn't left for work.

Roseline shuddered, her hands dropping lifelessly from going to unbolt the door.

"Roseline! Are you awake? Please, hear me out," Thompson continued, knocking on the door again.

His voice was mild, calm, unlike yesterday. He knocked gently on the door too, as opposed to how hard he had banged on the door the night before.

"Maybe this is the perfect time to talk about all of these with him," Roseline murmured to herself, nodding as if trying to convince her head to follow her mind.

"Roseline, please!" Thompson continued knocking on the door.

Slowly, Roseline raised her hand towards the door and, in a click, unbolted it. Just then, Thompson turned the knob, throwing the door ajar.

The moment their eyes met, Thompson lunged onto her, pressing her into him in a hug.

"I missed you, darling. Sorry for being a jackass yesterday," Thompson said slowly into her ears, his voice shaky with what seemed like regret.

Roseline, sniffing him, inhaled deeply. He scented like a mix of clean soap and rich chocolate flavour.

She had missed just how good Thompson's scent was and how giddy it made her feel whenever they made contact—enough for her mind to get lost in the wonders of the rich fragrance.

Before she knew it, she wrapped her hands around his waist, pressing herself further into his bosom.

A smile slowly formed on Thompson's face as he adjusted his arms around her, patting her back even more affectionately.

"This was easier than I thought it would be," Thompson's mind bubbled with victory.

"Alright, darling. Let's sit down for breakfast while we talk about how my dad finally wants to meet you."

Thompson's words hit Roseline like an unexpected volcanic wave, causing her heart to sink down her chest for a second.

"What!" she blurted out, freeing herself from the hug to look at his face, which bore a wide, excited smile. Roseline exhaled, dropping her eyes to the floor instantly.

She wasn't sure what reaction she had expected from him. He would be taking his fiancée to meet his father for the first time, which was supposed to be a cause for a smile—maybe—except that Roseline had this hard feeling somewhere in the corner of her mind.

The feeling that Mr. Thomas White was just as brutal as the media portrayed him to be. The hard-to-please multi-billionaire.

Old rich men and their hardcore character because, probably, the world might just be revolving around their left middle finger.

As unreasonable as it may sound, she wished she would never have to meet Thompson's father.

She just felt it would be hard for things to flow between them, and she wasn't ready to stoop so low just to please a difficult in-law. Would-be in-law, in this case.

Forcefully, Roseline stretched her face to form a smile, which, if Thompson had paid a little more attention to, he would have noticed how the smile gave away at anxiety and displeasure instead of excitement and fulfillment.

"I know, right?" he cluelessly tugged at Roseline's cheeks playfully.

"This meeting has been long overdue. You ought to have met my father long ago, before now, yunno," he said excitedly, interlocking his fingers with Roseline's and proceeding to lead her downstairs for breakfast.

"Yeah," Roseline replied awkwardly, with her thoughts all over the place and her eyes cold and steady. You could see how much her feelings were at war with themselves through them.

At the dining table, Thompson pulled out the chair for her. After she settled in, he went around to take the seat exactly opposite her, just like he'd usually do.

The breakfast of (insert a breakfast filling enough for a Londoner who had gone to bed hungry the night before) was sumptuous, and Roseline dug in without hesitation. She ate so fast, it made her worry about having to deal with indigestion as a result.

"Uuhm!" Thompson cleared his throat, causing Roseline to drop her cutlery and raise her head with a mouthful of food being chewed, in readiness to give a long reason why it seemed like she was eating too fast.

"I've got something for you," he continued, catching her off her track.

The words she had prepared in reply to what she thought he would have said next got caught in her throat, causing her to cough.

"Oooh! Take it easy. Have some water," Thompson said, stroking her free hand on the table while handing her the glass of water, which she took and gulped down.

"Thank you," Roseline said simply after she felt relieved. Staring at the bits of food scattered on the tabletop and even her clothes in utter embarrassment, she sighed.

"Okay. Let's see what we've got," Thompson nodded to her response. Then, from the dining chair next to his, he pulled out a bouquet of fresh white roses.

"For you, my world," he said as he stretched them towards where she sat.

Roseline gasped.

White roses were her favourite in the world. In addition, it had actually been a while since Thompson got her flowers.

Her face blossomed into a smile—a real smile, genuine happiness—as she took them from him. They smelt great, and they looked even more gorgeous up close.

"Thank you so much, Thompson," she managed to say, not too surprised at how a bouquet of white roses had succeeded in giving her mood a major boost.

"Anything you want, my darling," came his reply.

Roseline looked up at him, her eyes glistening with love for the one man she would forever love and cherish.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. I was out of it, I admit," Thompson continued, stretching his hands towards her.

Dropping the flowers by the side, Roseline slipped her hands into his, and he caressed them gently on the table.

Roseline was expecting they were about to have a detailed conversation about what happened and how she was going to handle it, because even while they came down for breakfast, she still could not bear to look at the door of the master's bedroom.

But Thompson continued.

"We will talk about this later, okay? For now, go upstairs, get prepared, and I'll drive us down to my father's."

Before Roseline even thought about replying, Thompson let go of her hands, and they dropped limply onto the table.

Grabbing his car key off the table, he walked away towards the door.

"Hurry up, Roseline. I'd be at the garage. We don't want to keep the chairman waiting," he beckoned without turning around, the Italian leather shoes he wore clicking away at the hard floor.

"Wow!" Roseline sighed heavily in total bewilderment.

Was there any way out of this now?