Roses For Little Swan

Little Swan

Odette Sterling counted tips on her kitchen table.

It was 2:14 am. Her apartment was cold because the heater made a noise like it was going to explode, so she never turned it on past midnight.

The table was cheap, wobbly. One leg shorter than the others. She had put a folded flyer under it. STUDENT LOAN PAYMENT DUE - 7 DAYS.

She had $43 in ones, $12 in quarters, and a $20 that someone had drawn a heart on.

Forty-three plus twelve is fifty-five. Plus twenty is seventy-five.

Seventy-five dollars. For a whole double shift where a man pointed a gun at her.

She laughed. It wasn't funny.

Her phone buzzed. Aria.

Aria: u home safe???

Aria: omg Odette that was so scary

Aria: that guy who helped u... who was that?? He was so hot but scary hot

Odette typed back with cold fingers.

Odette: home. u safe?

Odette: idk who he was. biker guy. tall.

Aria: he kept staring at u lol

Aria: like OBSESSED staring

Aria: thank u for saving me again

Odette didn't answer that. She looked at her window. The blind was broken, one slat missing. She could see the streetlight.

She thought about the man. The biker.

He was tall. Like really tall. 6'4 maybe. Black t-shirt, leather cut with patches she didn't understand. PRESIDENT on the back. Dark eyes that didn't blink much. Sharp lips. A scar on his bottom lip, thin, white. Tattoos on his neck going down under his shirt.

He didn't yell when he hit that man. That was the scary part. He was quiet.

Most guys who tried to be tough yelled. He didn't. He just grabbed and slammed.

And then he looked at her like... she didn't know how to describe it. Like she was something he already owned and just found.

She shivered. She got up and checked her door again. Two locks. Both locked.

Her apartment was one room, plus a bathroom that had mold in the corner she scrubbed every Sunday and came back every Tuesday. A bed that was a mattress on the floor but she made it pretty with a white cover. A desk from f*******: Marketplace that wobbled too. A teddy bear from when she was 12 that she kept because it had one eye missing and she felt bad throwing it away.

On the desk were books. College books. Expensive ones. Biology, Literature, and her loan papers in a folder that was getting too thick.

She owed $47,820. That was after three years of payments. Original was $62,000. For a degree she didn't even have yet.

She worked at Marty's Diner from 7am to 3pm. Then at Rhodes Custom bar, the biker bar, from 6pm to midnight, twice a week. She was a student in between. She was 23 and tired.

But she liked being busy. When she was busy she didn't think.

She sat back down and opened her loan portal on her old laptop. The screen had a crack in the corner.

BALANCE: $47,820. NEXT PAYMENT: $890. DUE IN 7 DAYS. STATUS: AT RISK OF DEFAULT.

If she defaulted, they would go after her mom's house. Her mom co-signed when Odette was 18 and thought college would be easy.

Her mom lived two hours away. Small house. Worked as a nurse.

Odette couldn't let that happen.

She closed the laptop.

She took off her uniform. Under it she had a tank top. She looked in the mirror. Thin-waisted but curvy. Pretty, people said. Fine skin that bruised easy. Fine hair that tangled. Long lashes she didn't need mascara for. Bright eyes that looked tired today.

She had never let anyone touch her. Not really. Boys tried in high school. In college. She always said no. She wasn't saving herself for something holy. She just never met someone who made her want to say yes. And she was too busy worrying about money to worry about boys.

Virgin. At 23. Her co-worker Nora Tremblay teased her about it.

"You wait for a billionaire biker," Nora had joked last week.

Odette had laughed. "Yeah, right."

Now a biker had actually looked at her and she didn't like how her stomach flipped.

She pulled on big sleep shorts and a t-shirt. She got into bed. The white cover was cold.

She stared at the ceiling. There was a water stain shaped like a swan. She used to look at it as a kid would. Now she just saw a stain.

She fell asleep with the light on.

Across the street, down one floor, in a black truck that wasn't his bike, Damien Rhodes sat.

He had changed trucks. Wolf gave him the keys. "You can't stalk a girl on a Harley that everyone hears from three blocks away, Prez," Wolf had said.

Wolf was right.

Damien sat with the window cracked, even though it was cold. He could see her window. Third floor, left. The blind with missing slat. He could see her light on. Then he saw her move. Then light still on.

He was not a man who waited. He took.

But with her, he wanted to watch first. He wanted to learn.

He had Ethan Jones pull her file in an hour. It was thin.

Odette Sterling. 23. DOB: March 3rd. Mother: Claire Sterling, nurse. Father: unknown. Address: 5th and Lowell, Apt 3B. Student at City College, major English Lit, GPA 3.8. Works Marty's Diner, Rhodes Custom bar part-time. Debt $47,820. No boyfriend. No record. No social media much. Last post 8 months ago, picture of a book.

And a note Ford added: "She returns library books early. Pays tips to busboy when customers stiff her."

Sunshine. Real sunshine, not fake Poppy sunshine.

Poppy Carter. His mother wanted him to marry Poppy. Poppy was polished, fake, hair that never moved, laugh that was for men. He hated women like that since his ex, Leila, sold his brothers out for money and f****d his road captain.

He hated mingling. He didn't do women.

Until her.

Little Swan.

He said it out loud in the truck. "Little Swan."

It fit. Swans mate for life. They look soft but they bite. They have long necks that look breakable but aren't. She had that neck. Thin, pretty, when she stretched it up to hold that bottle.

He watched her light finally go off at 3:03 am.

He got out of the truck. He walked across the street. The building lock was broken, just like Wolf said. He pushed it open.

He went up the stairs. Quiet. The hallway smelled like piss and old cooking.

He stopped at 3B. Her door. Two locks, cheap.

He didn't knock. He listened. He could hear her breathing through the thin door. Or he imagined it.

He reached into his cut pocket. He took out a single white rose. He had cut it from the mansion garden that his mother kept. He left the thorns on purpose. All of them. Sharp.

He also had a small folded paper. Black ink.

He knelt and slid the rose and paper under her door. Just enough so half the rose stuck out inside.

The paper said: "You fight like you have wings, Little Swan. - D"

He stood up. He stared at the door for a long minute.

"No one touches what's mine," he whispered to the door.

Then he left.

He was back in his truck by 3:11 am.

Upstairs, Odette didn't wake.

She woke at 6:00 am to her alarm. Loud, annoying.

She slapped it. She sat up. Her hair was messy. Her eyes puffy.

She swung her legs off the bed and her foot touched something soft.

She looked down.

A white rose was on her floor. Inside her locked apartment.

She froze.

It was a fresh rose. White. But the stem was covered in thorns. Big, sharp ones. Not removed like store roses. Left on.

Under it was a folded paper.

Her heart started beating fast. Very fast.

She picked up the paper with two fingers like it might bite.

"You fight like you have wings, Little Swan. - D"

Her hand shook.

How did a rose get inside? Her door was locked. Two locks. She checked. Still locked.

Window? She ran to it. Locked from inside. Third floor, no fire escape on this side.

She looked at the rose. White rose. Thorns.

"D?" Who was D?

She thought of the biker. Damien. Did Wolf call him that? No, Wolf called him Prez.

But his eyes. Those dark eyes.

"No," she said out loud. "No way."

She grabbed her phone and texted Nora also her close friend and co-worker at Marty's.

Odette: Nora did u leave a rose at my door?? white rose??

Nora: what?? no lol why would i leave u a rose

Nora: secret admirer??? oooo

Odette didn't answer. She picked up the rose with a tissue and threw it in her trash can. But she didn't throw the note. She folded it and put it in her drawer. She didn't know why.

She got dressed for Marty's. Uniform, apron. She checked her door three times.

At Marty's Diner, it was busy. Morning rush.

Marty's was small, old. Smelled like bacon. Nora Tremblay was already there, 26, blonde with pink ends, loud.

"Girl, you look like you saw a ghost," Nora said when Odette came in.

"I didn't sleep good," Odette said.

"You work too much at that biker place," Nora said. "Those guys are freaks. Hot, but freaks."

Odette thought of dark eyes and scar on lip. She didn't say anything.

They worked. Coffee, eggs, toast, refills.

At 10:30 am, a delivery guy came in with a small box. No name.

"Odette Sterling?" he said.

"That's me," she said.

He left the box.

Inside was a single black dahlia. Black petals, dark. And again, thorns on the stem. Deliberately left. And a note.

"You preen when you're nervous, Little Swan. You tuck hair behind your ear three times. I counted. - D"

Odette dropped the box.

"What's wrong?" Nora ran over.

Odette couldn't breathe. "Someone... someone is watching me."

Nora read the note. Her face went pale. "Oh my god. That's not cute. That's stalker s**t. Who is D?"

Odette shook her head. Her hands were cold.

"Maybe it's a prank?" Nora said, but she didn't sound sure.

Odette looked out the diner window. Across the street, a black truck was parked. She couldn't see inside. Tinted windows.

It had been there since she arrived.

She stared at it. The truck didn't move.

"I'm calling police," Nora said.

"No," Odette said fast. "No, they won't do anything. It's just flowers and notes. They will say it's nothing."

"That's how it starts!" Nora said.

Odette took the flower and note and threw them in the back dumpster. But her hands kept shaking all day.

-----

Rhodes Corp boardroom. 40th floor. Glass, suits, men who smelled like money.

Estelle sat at the head. Next to her was Poppy Carter.

Poppy was perfect. Blonde, polished, dress that cost more than Odette's rent for a year. She smiled at Damien when he walked in, late, in his cut over a black tee. He didn't take it off.

"Damien, darling, you remember Poppy," Estelle said.

Poppy stood, held out a manicured hand. "Damien. It's been years. You look... rugged."

Damien didn't take her hand. "I don't remember you," he said.

Poppy's smile froze.

He sat down, far from them.

The lawyer, old man Harris, opened a folder. "As per Alexander's will, to assume CEO and full voting shares, Mr. Rhodes must be married within six months and active as CEO for one year, and maintain married status. Otherwise shares go to charitable trust controlled by Mrs. Rhodes."

"Which means you lose the club too," Estelle said softly. "Your father tied the club's property to the Corp. I can save it, if you do what is right."

Damien stared at the table. Wood so shiny he could see his own scar.

"I am not marrying her," he said, looking at Poppy.

Poppy laughed, a little too loud. "We can get to know each other again. We were friends as kids."

"We were never friends," Damien said.

He stood up. "I have to go."

"Damien!" Estelle snapped. "Sit down. This is your responsibility. You can't run to your bikers forever."

"I don't want your company," he said. "I don't want your heiresses."

He walked out. Poppy watched him go, eyes narrow, not sweet at all now.

In the elevator, he pulled out his phone. He opened the camera app.

Camera 3 - Hallway 5th Building. Live. Empty hallway, her door.

Camera 4 - He had gotten access through the landlord. Her building's front door. He paid $500 cash.

He watched the hallway feed. No one.

He switched to his messages. No reply from his unknown number to her. Good. She was scared. She should be.

He typed a new one, from unknown number, and sent it.

Unknown: Stop wearing that red uniform skirt for tips, Little Swan. Only I should see those curves.

He knew she wore a red skirt at Marty's on Tuesdays. He had watched.

He put the phone away and rode his bike hard, fast, back to the east side.

He needed to see her again. Not on camera. In person.

That night, Odette was back at Rhodes Custom bar for her shift.

She didn't want to come. But she needed the $80.

She walked in at 5:50 pm. The bar was already half full. Bikes outside.

She tied her apron, thin-waisted, curvy in the tight black tee they made her wear.

Wolf was at the bar. He saw her and nodded once. "Odette."

"Hi," she said, small voice.

"Prez is in back," Wolf said.

"Prez?" she said.

"The guy from last night," Wolf said. "Damien."

So D was Damien. She knew it.

Her stomach dropped.

He walked to her table, table 6, where she was serving two prospects.

"Out," he said to them.

They got up fast. Leo Marley and Max Carter. Prospects. They left.

Odette stood there, holding a tray.

"You," she said. Her voice was brave but shaking. "Did you leave a rose in my apartment?"

Damien sat down in the booth. He leaned back. Dark eyes on her.

"You fight like you have wings," he said, low. "Little Swan."

Her face went white. Then red.

"It WAS you!" she said. Louder. "How did you get in? My door was locked! That's illegal! You can't just... you can't just stalk people!"

A few heads turned. Steel Smith looked over.

Damien smiled. Just a little, scar pulling.

"You left your window open," he lied.

"I did NOT!" she said. "Stay away from me! I don't know who you think you are, President or whatever, but stay away!"

She was stubborn, hard to get. Sunshine with thorns of her own.

He liked it.

He stood up. He was so much taller. She had to tilt her head up. Long lashes, bright eyes furious.

"As long as you work in my bar, you are under my roof," he said quietly, so only she could hear. "And I watch what's under my roof, Little Swan."

"I'm not yours," she said. "I'm not your Little Swan."

"You will be," he said.

He reached out and tucked a piece of fine hair behind her ear. Just one finger, barely touching. She flinched, but didn't step back.

His finger was warm. Rough.

"Don't touch me," she whispered.

"Too late," he said.

He walked away, back to his brothers, leaving her shaking, holding her tray so tight her knuckles were white.

On her phone, a new text buzzed.

Unknown: You look pretty when you're mad, Little Swan. But don't yell at me in public again. People will think you like me.

Odette looked up at his booth. He was looking at her, phone in hand, dark eyes smiling.

She wanted to throw her tray at him.

She didn't.

She went to the back and cried in the small bathroom for two minutes, then washed her face and came out. Because she needed the $80.

Damien watched her all night. Every table she served. Every time a man looked too long at her curvy hips.

He made a list in his head.

And he left another rose in her bag when she wasn't looking. White, thorns, with a new note: "Good girl for staying. - D"

She found it when she got home. She threw the rose out again. But she kept the note again.

She didn't know why.