Roses on Mafia

Roseline Palmer: Roseline Palmer is a determined and ambitious young woman with expressive hazel eyes. Her long and graceful Chestnut hair, adding to her approachable charm. Standing at an average height of 5"8, she exudes confidence and resilience. She normally dresses like a smart secretary during work and casual baggy clothing in her private hours. She loves fruits and dislikes excessive wastage of good food, she's the submissive type and extremely daring when angered.

Roseline's POV

Raindrops traced delicate patterns down the office windows, and the city lay beneath a blanket of gray clouds. At my desk, I tapped away on the keyboard, surrounded by papers and files in disarray. The ringing of my office phone persisted, a distraction I attempted to shrug off. Overwhelmed and weary, I pressed on. There was no other path to tread, not when it came to caring for my brother and myself; the world showed little compassion to orphans.

Then, the office door swung open, revealing Mr. Grayson, our boss. He was an average-sized, somewhat portly man, his expression often stern. Approaching my desk, he stood, casting a shadow over me. "Ms. Palmer," he said in a deep, commanding tone. "I need you in my office, right now."

A sinking feeling accompanied his request. His office was a place I dreaded, a space where unease thrived. His advances, unwanted and vile, had been thwarted time and again, but what scheme did he have in store this time? I collected my belongings, rising from my seat, and followed him into his office.

Entering Mr. Grayson's office, I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nerves that fluttered within me. Conversations with him were a challenge, a source of unease. My journey with the company spanned three years, a period marked by my pursuit of education following a certificate from a local business school. Since I was sixteen and our parents were no more, my brother and I had been on the move, navigating a world where relatives offered us little more than scorn. I had become my brother's sole guardian.

Among the office's whispers, I was known for my apparent disinterest in matters of the heart. Love and romance had never found a place in my life; there simply wasn't the time or inclination. My focus remained steadfast on survival and ensuring my brother's well-being.

The office exuded an air of grandiosity, its spacious interior adorned with dark wood paneling and luxurious leather furnishings. Seated behind his desk, Mr. Grayson was engulfed by an assortment of papers and files. He motioned for the secretary to take a seat across from him, his gaze lingering upon her momentarily before he began to speak. "As you're aware, Headquarters has been orchestrating a general gathering to enhance communication among top executives from each branch," he paused, shifting his focus towards me. "The event is slated for this weekend, and all managers are obliged to attend, along with their respective secretaries," his voice, devoid of warmth, conveyed the gravity of his words. "Attendance is mandatory. Do you comprehend?"

A surge of panic coursed through me. The company's gala was to be hosted in New York, and my financial reserves couldn't stretch to cover a plane ticket.

"I-I understand, Mr. Grayson," my voice wavered slightly, yet I endeavored to steady it. "However, I lack the means for a plane ticket. I'm uncertain if I can manage the trip."

His withering gaze bore into me as I averted my eyes to the ground. This celebration was non-negotiable, and it was undoubtedly within the means of any other secretary to secure a flight. Yet, due to the burdens I shouldered, my own impoverished state left me in a state of lamentation.

"Chin up, Miss Palmer," he offered a smile tainted with pity. "The company will cover the entirety of your travel expenses, so there's no need to concern yourself with the flight costs." An involuntary sigh of relief escaped me, and I swiftly reigned it in, hoping he hadn't taken note. If the travel expenses were covered, then there was no reason to decline.

"Yes, I'll share the meeting details and time with you later. On that day, dress appropriately," he mentioned, a distasteful smile slowly creeping onto his face. Swiftly, before he could catch sight of my irritation, I made my way toward the door and hastily grasped the doorknob. However, he interrupted before I could depart, "Roseline, have you given any thought to my proposal since then?" I anticipated that he would eventually circle back to this topic, which was why my aim was to exit as soon as possible. "Time doesn't stand still, Roseline. With your responsibilities, isn't it time to consider having a well-off, strong companion to care for you and provide enjoyment?"

I didn't look back, yet I sensed his gaze dissecting me. Every fiber of my being abhorred this man. Suddenly, the sound of his chair clattering and his desk shifting reached my ears. He was rising, moving in my direction – a clear signal to leave. "I'm sorry, Mr. Grayson, but I've stated repeatedly that I'm not inclined towards matters of romance or 'enjoyment'. Your proposal isn't something I can entertain, so I implore you not to pursue it further." I rotated the doorknob, exited without hesitation, and as I moved further away from his office, I heard distant sounds of documents and metal objects falling to the floor. Even if I were to desire companionship, I'd rather face annihilation than be near that repugnant creature.

Returning to my desk, I passed Jessica, the accountant, who had a poor grasp on concealing her jealousy. I chose not to offer a greeting and continued past her. With this unexpected directive and the associated expenses, dealing with an envious colleague ranked lowest on my list of concerns. After covering some distance, I heard her murmur a subtly impolite remark, but I didn't engage. Arguing would be needless. Many of my coworkers believe I share a close rapport with the manager, which is perhaps the most amusing misconception about this workplace.

...

The end of my late-night shift had arrived. I gathered my belongings, clocked out, and began my journey home. Glancing at my worn silver watch, I noted the time as 10:20 pm. While strolling through the bustling streets of Amsterdam, I paused to appreciate the captivating night lights that had become a nostalgic charm for me. Throughout my 26 years alive, more than a decade had been spent in this city. It brought both advantages and disadvantages, one of which was the unease that shrouded the environment, compelling me to hasten my steps during nighttime to avoid aligning with the unsettling headlines in the newspapers.

Continuing along the streets, I spotted a figure approaching briskly. I quickened my pace, yet the shadow ahead seemed to dwindle as I went. I gradually escalated my strides until they transformed into an all-out sprint. I raced away from the sound of rapidly nearing footsteps, my deepest fears materializing before me. Just as I was about to raise my voice to call for help, a familiar voice shouted my name. "Sis! Wait, it's me! Why are you running?" The voice echoed, appearing somewhat breathless. I decelerated and turned, only to be met by the sight of my younger brother, his face flushed and sweat glistening.

"Jacob! Why did you startle me like that? Don't you know how dangerous these streets can be? Are you out of your mind?" My raised voice drew the attention of a few women nearby. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to walk you back home, but you suddenly started running," he explained, obviously trying to defend himself. He wasn't particularly wrong, but his approach almost scared me to death. I had thought I was on the verge of an attack.

"Just give me a call next time or call out my name, don't trail behind someone like that," I scolded one last time before motioning for us to continue walking. The bystanders, having had their curiosity sated, resumed their own affairs. People with no sense of shame, honestly.

"Rose, you seem more stressed than your usual self. Normally, you'd at least glance back to see who it was," he noted with a concerned expression. He had an unusual knack for understanding my emotions. He could always tell when I was secretly irritated, sad, depressed, or frustrated. He never failed to try and lift my spirits. He'd known me his entire life, so I understood just how important I was to him. That's why I confided in him about everything. As we reached the front of our apartment complex, I poured out my thoughts to him.

"It's nothing. It's just that I'll be heading on a business trip this weekend, and I need to figure out what to wear. It's a company event, and I can't afford to appear average. I don't want to put our branch to shame. I'll have to dip into your college savings again," I sighed, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of my eye. I caught a fleeting look of disappointment and sadness, quickly replaced by one of his trademark smiles. "Don't worry, I've already gotten my college admission. The savings were meant for my accommodations and pocket money after all. I can still commute from home as usual. Actually, it's not bad since I get to enjoy your cooking," he grinned, stepping through the door and into our little living room. "You need to treat yourself, Rose. How long has it been since you bought a new dress? I don't have any problems with it; just do what you think is necessary." He said as he skipped into the washroom.

This was one of the reasons why I cherished him so much. His kindness and comforting demeanor. It provided me with the impetus to endure those late-night shifts and side gigs. He was undoubtedly worth it. 'A man who can take good care of you'? I didn't require something like that. I didn't need love. I already have all the motivation I required.