Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

09 | Change of Plans

Cult Leader ~ King Mala

《¤Rosie¤》

I wasn't a morning person, which was why I had to leave my hotel room to go to Starbucks for a Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino. Whether it had the caffeine to wake me up enough for this meeting or not, I didn't care. So call me dramatic as I stroll through Costa Hotels lobby, sipping on the green straw... possibly twenty minutes late to said meeting.

I hope it pisses him off.

A small smirk plays across my lips as I pass the front desk, fully aware I was getting stared down by the receptionist. I will admit, I did dress to impress. Who knows who else could be at this meeting? Fashionably late to irritate a certain asshole? Yes. But I wasn't about to embarrass myself by showing up in sweats.

I donned my newest black pantsuit, blazer draped over my forearm, clutch in hand as I push the sleeves of my white satin blouse up to my elbows. The first few buttons were undone, drawing attention to my cream throat and the thin rose gold chain that donned the Costa family crest.

Rose gold was my signature accessory. Gold was pretty and silver too, but I've always been drawn to the dainty and elegant beauty rose gold embodies.

I sucked the remainder of whipped cream through my straw, chewing on the sweet crunchy bits before tossing the empty cup into a trash bin on my way to the golden elevators.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. As much I've trained for the possibility of inheriting the family business, I never actually thought I'd see the day. I had imagined Hayden would pop out a few heirs himself, appoint the next in line if he were to ever meet his untimely end, and ultimately freeing me from ever having to take the reigns.

But of course, Hayden died single, a bachelor... childless.

I purse my lips as I use my knuckle to punch the small button, tapping my stiletto impatiently and checking my watch. Shit... he's going to kill me.

The doors barely have opened when I slip inside and hit the fifth floors button. From brief meetings I've had with father in the past, I knew enough to know this floor was reserved for meetings or other "business" endeavors.

I glance momentarily at the long column of buttons on the panel beside me as the doors click shut. Sixty floors, the last flooring being the penthouse. I believe father gave that to Rivera after he died, but I couldn't be sure. It was reserved for the Don, but Hayden made it clear he had his own mansion and father always doted on Rivera. I've always been surprised he hadn't handed the whole thing over to Rivera in the first place. I'm sure he'd do a much better job than myself, to say the least.

Whimsical elevator music plays softly from the small speaker above, giving the false sense of luxury and comfort. If only the guests knew what horrors occurr beneath their noses. I can assure you that if I believed ghosts were real, this place would be a hot spot. Luckily, they aren't. I'd hate to know how many vengeful spirits would wreak havoc if they were.

I shudder at the thought just as the doors glide open. Immediately, I wish they'd slam shut again and the cable holding the elevator would snap so I could plummet to my death.

Dominic Rivera himself lifts his gaze, hand hovering to press the button for the elevator. If looks could kill, I'd be painting the golden walls crimson with my blood. Jaw tight and ticking, his molten eyes cut through me as he straightens and presses his hand on the doors before they can shut.

My insides are in a frenzy, a mix between panic and fear, it sends a tornado through my stomach. Every tendon in his hand flexes as he steps between the doors, towering over me as his nostrils flare in annoyance. I can feel my cheeks blanch and my mouth pop open to give an excuse, but I all I could manage was a sharp intake of air as the muscle in his cheek bounces repeatedly.