Roses and Thorns: Blood Roses

I smoothed my straight dark blue skirt with my palms and stared at my reflection, wondering if I looked mature enough for one of the biggest fashion companies in Manhattan. The clock on the wall showed half-past seven, and I was already halfway through unpacking my suitcases and had spent ten minutes trying to force my rebellious brown locks to stay quietly behind my ears. At twenty-one, I was about to stand before Anastasia Sinclair, whose name made even directors straighten their ties before entering her office.

— If you keep staring at the glass like that, it might just crack from stress — Isabella announced from the doorway, holding a cup of coffee and leaning casually against the frame.

She was wearing a short cotton dress and had tousled golden hair, just like when she was sleeping, yet she still looked as though she had just stepped off a magazine cover. My mother appeared behind her with a plate of butter-scented toast and that familiar, stern look she gave me every time I overdid the worrying.

— Isabella is right, Ana, take at least one bite, because the first day always drains your strength, and you don’t want to faint in front of the boss — Mom said, placing the plate on the table next to my bag.

She always worried about me, perhaps even too much ever since it had been just the two of us and we had learned the hard way how to rely solely on ourselves. I looked at both of them, and suddenly the tension in my shoulders released a bit of its grip. Isabella had known me since childhood, had spent half her life in our living room, and knew absolutely all of my secrets—except perhaps the fact that I was completely terrified of the thought of working for her own flesh-and-blood sister.

— Everything will be fine, Ana, Anastasia is strict and sometimes forgets that the people around her need air, but you are smarter and more resilient than you think — Isabella added, walking over and handing me the cup of coffee.

— I just hope she doesn't fire me before lunch, because rent bills don't wait — I tossed out with a slight smile and took the hot cup to warm my chilled fingers.

— She won't fire her, because if she does, she'll have to deal with me personally at our Sunday lunch — Isabella declared, winking at me with a full confidence that I wished I could borrow for at least a few hours.

Mom stepped forward, smoothed the lapel of my jacket, and kissed my cheek without saying anything more, because we both knew how important this step was for us. I tucked my phone into my bag, grabbed the keys from the counter, and headed for the exit as Isabella called out after me:

— And don't forget to remind her about the board meeting at ten, otherwise she'll take it out on the first person she sees!

I quickly hurried down the steps of our building, feeling the cool Manhattan morning air wake me up better than any drink. The subway had its usual crowd, but the whole time I was replaying in my head the task list the administrative department had sent me the day before. When I stepped out onto the street and faced the tall glass facade with the metal letters SINCLAIR FASHION, my stomach did its familiar squeeze. I walked through the revolving door of the lobby, where the black marble gleamed under the lights, and headed straight for the elevators to the upper floors.

The elevator ascended silently to the thirtieth floor, and the doors opened to a wide reception area with an elegant desk and a panoramic view of the city. Before I could even drop my bag at my workstation, the private office door opened and out stepped the woman everyone was talking about.

Anastasia Sinclair was tall, with impeccably straight platinum-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, and her tailored dark suit fit her figure to perfection. She stopped, looked me up and down without a single movement on her face, and said:

— You are late by two minutes, Whitmore.

I put my palms behind my back and took a step forward toward the massive wooden desk while my shoes clicked softly against the stone.

— I'm sorry, Mrs. Sinclair, but I came by subway and the trains...

Anastasia raised a palm and cut me off, making the atmosphere in the room unbearably tense.

— I don't care how you got here, because here I demand results, not empty talk about schedules. If you don't know how to arrive on time, it's best you leave right now and free up the spot for someone else.

The last thing I intended to do was surrender without a fight after all that morning mirror-shaking.

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders to hide the sudden urge to run back to the elevators.

— I suppose complete punctuality from tomorrow onwards will convince you of my ability to read a clock, Mrs. Sinclair.

She looked at me with sharp, icy eyes devoid of any submissiveness, though her lips compressed briefly into a short shadow.

— Two minutes of delay on the first day shows a discipline that is subject to serious corrections under my roof. Sit at your workstation and review the daily schedule on the keyboard before I decide to send you back home.

She turned and vanished into her private office, slamming the door shut with a dull thud.

Well, at least I still had a job, even though the boss clearly had no intention of making my life easy.

I approached the desk and pulled the chair back to settle into my new workspace. The computer was already glowing in anticipation, and next to it lay piles of folders with contracts and sketches for the new collection. I scrolled through the first document on the screen, and the numbers began to scatter in my head like spilled beads.

This was only the beginning of a long week where I would be praying for a sliver of sympathy from a heartless woman.

The desk phone rang suddenly, and I jumped in my chair as if I'd touched a live wire.

— Executive Director's reception, I'm listening — I said in the calmest tone I was capable of.

From the other end came the voice of Elena from administration, asking if the first report was ready for signature.

— Anastasia Sinclair is busy right now, but I will hand it over to her as soon as she steps out of her office — I replied with a slight hint of fake confidence.

I hung up the line and leaned back, staring at the closed door in front of me.

If she thought I'd get scared by a threat in the very first hour, she was gravely mistaken about my character.

I picked up the red pen from the pen holder and began marking the meeting times for the investors awaiting management approval. The door opened abruptly, and the tall figure of Alexander Vaughn appeared in the frame, dressed in a dark, expensive suit.

— Are you the new girl who has to track the boss's schedule without a single mistake? — he asked with a broad smile, trying to distract me.

I looked him straight in the eyes and crossed my arms over my chest to show him I wasn't scared of men with money.

— I am Mrs. Sinclair's personal assistant, not just some coffee-run girl, so watch how you ask your questions.

He laughed quietly and took a step inside, unfazed by my sharp tone.

— I like ambitious women because they usually last the shortest time against her personality.

Maybe he was right, but I had no intention of giving up so easily after everything I'd gone through to get this job.

At that moment, the private office door opened again and Anastasia's cold gaze slid directly over the two of us.

— Mr. Vaughn, if you have no specific business on this floor, I must ask you to return to the twenty-ninth.

Her voice was so quiet it sounded like a death sentence for any violator of her rules.

Alexander placed a black leather folder on the edge of my desk and turned with a lazy stride, as if this whole morning drama didn't concern him at all. He walked out through the open reception door, throwing me a final, highly significant glance. He probably took pleasure in lighting small fires and then watching who would be the first to burn in them.

Anastasia was still standing on the threshold of her office with her hands tucked behind her back, waiting for the last scrap of his presence to evaporate from the floor. She exhaled the remnants of her breath and focused her attention entirely on me.

— Bring me fresh coffee, Whitmore, because the previous one has gone completely cold, and I cannot bear anything in this office losing its temperature.

Her voice cut like a razor in the room as she spun back toward the interior of her personal space.

I squeezed the handle of the drawer a bit harder than necessary and stood up from the chair without taking my eyes off the massive door closing behind her. I understood the hidden message well: hierarchy here was built upon minor humiliations, but I had every intention of turning each cup into a stepping stone toward something much more serious. I walked through the corridor to the small pantry area on the floor, where the espresso machine gleamed under the bright lights of the built-in cabinets. I poured fresh water into the reservoir and pressed the button for a double shot. This was the perfect moment to judge whether to put two spoons of sugar as her whims demanded, or leave it bitter like her mood today. Of course, I was going to execute the order to perfection because I didn't want to give her an elementary excuse for a new official warning.

I took the porcelain cup with the small saucer and headed back to the reception area, careful not to spill even a drop onto my dark skirt. The door to her office was ajar by barely half an inch, but the measured sound of her steps on the expensive parquet could be heard from within. I stopped in front of my desk for a second to take a deep breath and sort my thoughts before another encounter with her icy gaze. I continued forward and knocked lightly with my knuckles on the polished wood before fully opening the heavy barrier in front of me. Anastasia was standing by the panoramic window, looking down at the heavy traffic on the boulevard below, without even turning to me as I entered.

I approached the massive wooden desk very quietly and placed the porcelain cup on the saucer right next to the polished keyboard without making any unnecessary noise. Anastasia slowly turned back from the panoramic window, casting her sharp, icy eyes directly onto the thin white line of rising steam.

— Is the documentation for the new collection ready, or do you plan to spend your time gazing at the views out the window?

The documents were already prepared in the blue folder on my desk, but it was far more entertaining to let her get a little more worked up before the check, even though I risked my own job.

— It is sitting on the neighboring desk and waiting only for your signature before heading to print — I replied in an even tone and raised my chin slightly, trying to look as confident as possible.

She pressed her thin lips into a tight line and was just about to add a new demand when the door behind me opened without warning. Suddenly, into the private office of the scariest woman in Manhattan strolled Isabella with a glass of juice in her hand and a wide smile on her face. She didn't seem bothered at all by the icy glares her sister handed out generously left and right most of the time.

— Anastasia, stop torturing the new girl before her first lunch hour has even passed — Isabella tossed out, leaning casually against a nearby frame.

Her sister looked at her with enough chill in her eyes to freeze the coffee in the cup, but Isabella had no plans of retreating.

— We are at work here, Isabel, not at some Fifth Avenue café where you can wander around aimlessly.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the sudden family drama unfolding right in front of me. Apparently, my first day at work wasn't going to be spent in boringly thumbing through folders, but rather watching high-floor clan wars.

Isabella approached the desk, set her juice down next to my cup, and cast a thieving glance at me with a complete lack of respect for the rules.

— Ana probably already regrets signing the contract for this position, so I suggest we let her go to lunch earlier today — Isabella countered with a perfect tease in her voice.

Anastasia squared her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest. No one else in this building would dare speak to her that way without being fired the very next minute.

— Out, Isabella, I have business matters to discuss with the new assistant, and you obviously have no intention of helping the process — Anastasia said, fixing her sister with a stare that usually made directors tremble.

A mild curiosity arose within me as to whether Isabella would comply or spark a new fire just for personal amusement.

— I was just about to leave, but save your strength, Ana, because she's going to try to take your soul even before the afternoon report — Isabella tossed out with a devilish smile and headed for the exit.

I laughed quietly at my friend's words, because she never missed a chance to stoke the tension between us for pure amusement. She must have found it fun to watch me try to survive at this altitude without a single life vest anywhere around. She walked out with a light step and closed the massive door behind her, leaving me alone under the merciless gaze of my boss. This was the perfect opportunity to earn my first official reprimand before lunchtime had even arrived.

Anastasia shifted her eyes from the frame to me and slowly rolled her shoulders back to assume an even more commanding posture in front of the glass.

— Out, Whitmore, I need silence to review the documents without unnecessary distractions on your part.

Her voice sounded completely flat, and one could easily mistake the conversation for a discussion about the weather outside.

The knot in my stomach was completely unnecessary, but she possessed a unique behavioral style that compelled every employee to comply instantly.

— I am leaving the room immediately, Mrs. Sinclair, I hope the silence helps you make the right decisions for the new designs.

I took a step back toward the exit.

She didn't even answer me, simply lifting her long fingers toward the leather binder on the desktop in a full demonstration of disregard.

Such an attitude would make any normal person slam the door shut, but I needed this salary more than anything else.

I walked out into the spacious reception area and relaxed in front of my own workstation, where the computer was still glowing in anticipation of the next task.

Everything was clean, orderly, and far too calm compared to the cataclysms that had just played out mere meters away from me.

I picked up the pen and began reviewing the list of phone numbers I had to dial all afternoon.

The work here had nothing to do with the cozy offices I used to read about in magazines a while back.

The desk phone rang.

I picked up the receiver on the second ring and tried to recover my professional tone before Elena started scolding me about the reports.

— Executive Director's reception, I'm listening — I said while straightening the collar of my shirt with my other hand.

The voice on the other end turned out to be Sofia from marketing, asking if the boss was free for a brief meeting in the afternoon.

— Anastasia Sinclair will not be receiving anyone for the next two hours, as she is currently closeted with the collection documents — I replied in an even tone.

I hung up the line and leaned my back against the chair, staring at the white reception walls where moments seemed to flow three times slower.

There was no point in trying to figure her out on the first day, as she probably kept her secrets behind ten locked doors.

The private office door opened and Anastasia's tall figure appeared in the open slit of the frame.

She looked at me with her cold blue eyes, which mercilessly judged my every move in the moment.

— Whitmore, bring me the new financial reports from Alexander Vaughn's department, but this time organize them by date and amount.

Her demands never ended, and I was already starting to wonder if there was ever a moment when she rested.

I stood up from the chair and looked her straight in the face without dropping my chin in fear or anxiety.

— I am going down to get them from the twenty-ninth level right now, Mrs. Sinclair, I won't keep you waiting long.

She gave a slight nod of approval and retreated back into her office.

This was the perfect chance to figure out what exactly was hidden behind the barriers of the other departments in this luxury building.

I walked down the stairs to the lower levels, where the atmosphere was slightly different and less stiff than the upper space.

The corridors here smelled of expensive perfume and coffee, and people moved quickly with folders in hand toward the conference rooms.

I headed toward the assistant's spot to cross the task off my list as quickly as possible and return before the new criticisms began.

The man in the suit appeared out of nowhere and stood right in my path with a broad, smug smile.

— Are you looking for the boss here, or did you just decide to take a stroll through the hostile territory of business development? — he asked mockingly.

I looked at him angrily and crossed my arms over my chest to show him I had no time for small talk today.

— I am here for the financial reports by direct order of Anastasia Sinclair, so if you have them, hand them over quickly.

He laughed quietly at my sharp tone and opened his drawer, pulling out the thick folder with signatures.