Tainted Roses

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER FIVE

SIMON

The office is always different at this time of the night. During the day, this floor is filled with movement; meetings, conversations and decisions being made behind closed doors. At night, everything becomes quieter. Sometimes, it's too quiet.

It is the reason I designed this floor the way I did. With just my office, the assistant's office, the boardroom and the resting area. Nothing unnecessary. I have always preferred spaces that allow me to think without interruption. Tonight, however, the silence is doing the opposite.

I look through the report in front of me again, but my attention is not entirely on the words. Serena has been with this company for a few months now, and one thing has become obvious; she takes her work seriously. Perhaps too seriously.

I pick up my phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing.

“Serena speaking." she says and there it is again. Her voice, soothing in a way she probably has no idea of.

"Are you still in the office?" I ask and there's a pause, like she wasn't expecting it to be me.

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair."

I look at the documents on my desk.

" Good. I need your help with something before tomorrow's meeting."

There's another pause but there's no hesitation when she responds. More like she is adjusting her schedule in her mind.

"Of course Mr Sinclair."

I end the call and sit back. Going through the documents again.

---

A few minutes later, there is a knock on my door and I know it's her. She's probably the only employee still in the company at this time. Even Claire left early.

"Come in."

Serena steps inside, holding a book and a pen against her chest. Even now, after weeks of working with her, there are things I notice. Things that I probably shouldn't notice. Like her confidence, the way she carries herself, or the quiet elegance in her appearance. Her face is striking, but not in a way that demands attention. It is something more subtle. The kind of beauty that becomes more noticeable the longer someone is around her. I've noticed the way she curves and bites her lips when she is concentrating, or rubbing circles on her wrist with her thumb. The slight change in her expression when she is analyzing something. The way her voice remains steady even when she is challenging an idea. But what catches my attention more than any of that is her mind.

Exactly what separates her from the others.

At first I just thought, yeah she was different but I didn't expect this difference. The way she thinks is what makes it difficult to simply see her as another employee. Especially some of the female ones who always seem to be plotting on how to impale themselves on my d**k. Or at least, the rumor of what they believe it to be like.

"Mr. Sinclair?" She calls out gently and I realize I have been silent for too long. Instantly regretting where my mind went.

"Please, sit."

She takes the chair across from my desk and I place the document in front of her.

"I would like your opinion on this." I inform her and she looks slightly surprised.

“Oh,..?"

"Yeah."

She opens the file and begins reviewing it and for the next few moments, the room is quiet. I watch the way she works with no unnecessary movements or attempts to impress me. She simply thinks and then she looks up.

"I think the proposal is strong, but there is a weakness." She says gently, looking directly at me. I lean back slightly.

"Mind showing me where?" I ask and she points to a section of the document.

"The partnership strategy focuses heavily on the first stage, but there is not enough attention on maintaining the relationship afterward."

I remain quiet and attentive so she continues.

"If the initial results are good but the long-term plan is unclear, the company risks losing the value of the partnership."

I reach for the document and study it again. With the knowledge of what she just pointed out, I see that she is right.

"Good observation." I say and that makes her raise her head to stare at my face. We're seated not too far from each other and I get a hint of caramel and vanilla. The two f*****g flavors I love for my ice cream.

"Thank you, Mr Sinclair." She says with a smile before she returns her attention to the file.

It should be a simple exchange. Just a CEO acknowledging the insight of his assistant and nothing more. Yet I find myself remembering why I chose her. Not because of her history or the circumstances surrounding her application but because she seemed capable and earned this position. Although a voice at the back of my taunts me and calls me a liar.

"You notice details quickly, Ms Wilson. And I'd prefer it if you called me Simon and not Mr Sinclair."

She looks up, seemingly surprised and caught off guard.

" Oh, um… Yeah, sure. Of course Mr….um Simon. I believe details are usually where problems begin." She's stammering and I don't think I've ever heard her do that before. It's almost adora…..no. I'm not going there.

Before I can consider it further, she continues reviewing the document.

I force my attention back to work. This is exactly why boundaries exist. She is my executive assistant and I am her employer. That should be enough. I have spent years surrounded by beautiful women and it has never been something that could distract me. But perhaps that is the problem, because with Serena, it is not only beauty. It is everything else. So I look away from her.

This is unnecessary and not good at all. Perhaps it's because of my lack of sleep or too much work and bothing more. A knock interrupts the silence.

Before I can answer, the door opens.

"Martha."

She stands at the entrance, looking between us. Her expression changing slightly into something closer to displeasure than anger.

"I didn't know you were still working."

"I am."

Her eyes move toward the documents on the desk and then towards Serena.

"I see." Is all she says but the tone is enough.

Serena notices immediately.

"I'll take my leave now. I'll send you the rest early tomorrow morning Mr Sinclair." She says and closes the folder.

"I can continue with this tomorrow."

"Thank you for your time."

She nods and stands up, ready to leave. I want to say something but I don't. Maybe because I shouldn't.

"Goodnight, Mr. Sinclair."

"Goodnight, Ms. Wilson."

She leaves and the door closes behind her. The quiet that returns feels different from before. With Martha still standing where she is watching me. And I already know this conversation is going to be unpleasant.

*******************************

The city passes by in blurred lights beyond the tinted windows as I sit in the back seat beside Martha, one hand resting against the armrest while the other holds my phone, though I have not looked at it in several minutes.

The driver keeps his attention on the road, with the silence between Martha and I, not unusual. We've become experts at comfortable appearances. To anyone watching from the outside, we probably look perfect. Just a successful businessman and his elegant fiancée, returning home after another long day. But appearances have never told the whole story.

"You spend a lot of time at the office." Her voice breaks the silence and I turn slightly to face her.

"I have always spent a lot of time at the office."

"Yes, but not like this."

She says and I know where this conversation is going.

"Martha." I call out gently, and she looks at me.

"What?" She asks but I wait because I know she has something to say. She sighs softly.

"I'm not trying to start an argument."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

Her eyes move toward the window. Away from my gaze, like she's trying to hide the expression on her face.

"I'm trying to understand Simon." She continues but I say nothing, because sometimes, with Martha, understanding isn't what she is searching for. It's reassurance.

"You stayed late again tonight."

"Yes, I did. Just like I've always done."

"And Ms. Wilson was there with you."

"She was working Martha. That's what we were doing. Work." I look her and the expression on her face says she's not convinced.

"She is my executive assistant."

"I know who she is, Simon. I've been hearing a lot about her. This wonderful Ms Wilson who just started working at your company not too long ago but you're already asking for her opinions on matters meant for higher executives."

The irritation in her voice is subtle, but it is there.

"Then I don't understand the concern. If you know that ; all of that, then what has you so worked up."

She looks back at me.

"You don't usually spend hours alone with people, even for work. You prefer to be alone and sure I didn't like it before but I prefer that now "

"Because most people are not responsible for helping me prepare important documents and making important decisions. For f**k sakes, she's my executive assistant Martha. My executive assistant. Meaning she's meant to be with me all the time, to assist me with things I need assistance on."

Her expression tightens and she swallows hard.

"It's almost nine at night."

"Because the work needed to be done. It's an important document that is to be submitted tomorrow and it's her job to work with me through it. To spot mistakes and future problems that I might miss."

A quiet pause settles between us and I look away from her in anger, watching the city move past. I most certainly don't need this now. If only mum never suggested the f*****g engagement as her one last wish before the inevitable.

The truth is, I understand why Martha is uncomfortable. I've worked with female assistants before but most of them were older and the young ones quit after about a month or two. Serena was pretty, yes but Martha wasn't beneath her in the beauty department.

"You seem to value her opinion."

The statement is quieter this time and I look back at Martha.

"Because she has earned it." I reply and that answer seems to bother her more than anything else. Not because I said it but because I meant it. Martha looks away and for the rest of the drive, neither of us says anything.

When we arrive home, the house is quiet. Martha removes her coat as we step inside and drapes it on the coat hanger.

"I need a shower." She says and heads upstairs.

I nod, heading towards the wine bar.

"Goodnight."

She pauses for a moment and I can tell she expects something else from me

Maybe a question or an explanation. Perhaps reassurance but I have never been good at giving words I do not completely mean. So I remain quiet, pouring myself a glass of whiskey.

"Goodnight, Martha."

She gives a small nod before walking upstairs.

I wait until I hear the bathroom door close before heading toward my office.

*********************************

My home office has always been my place of escape. The one room where I do not have to perform. Where I am not a CEO or a son or someone's future husband. Just myself.

I loosen my tie and stand near the window. But my thoughts do not leave the conversation in the car. Martha's questions, concerns and her assumption. The truth is simple. There is nothing between me and Serena. There cannot be but there is something I have never told anyone. Something connected to her.

I move toward my desk and see that the lower drawer remains exactly as I left it. I pull it open and remove an old file. For years, I have kept it because forgetting has never been an option.

I open it and the first thing I see is the name.

Daniel Wilson.

My breathing stills for a moment. A name I have not said aloud in years. A name attached to a memory I have spent just as long trying to outrun. I remember my father's voice. Calm and certain.

"This is business, Simon."

I remember the anger I felt. The disbelief in the moment I had found out. If only he wasn't dead now so I could confront him.

"Business does not mean people stop mattering."

He had looked at me like I was too young to understand and maybe I was. But I understood enough now. I knew someone had paid the price for a decision they did not make. I knew someone had been left to carry the blame. And I knew my father had walked away believing success mattered more than the lives affected by it.

I close my eyes because years later, the anger is still there and so is the guilt. Because when Serena Wilson's name appeared on that application, I remembered everything.

Not because she needed saving but because she needed an opportunity. A fair one. And after everything her family lost, giving her that chance felt like the only thing I could do.

I look down at the file again. Daniel Wilson. A name connected to the past, to the woman who now sits only a few floors below me every day. A woman who has absolutely no idea.

For years, I thought keeping the truth buried was the only way to protect everyone involved but then Serena Wilson walked into my office. She smiled, thanked me for giving her a chance and looked at me like I was simply another man who believed in her. And that is the part I cannot forgive myself for because she does not know. She doesn't know my father's name, what really happened to hers or that the man she now works for is connected to the reason her life changed forever. I stare at the file one last time before locking it away.

I told myself hiring her was about giving her what she deserved. A fair opportunity and a second chance but maybe I was also trying to give myself one. And the worst part is… When Serena Wilson eventually learns the truth, I don't know if she will see me as the man who really saw her or the son of the man who destroyed her family.