GERALD
Though the argument had left a bitter aftertaste in my mouth, I found myself occasionally smiling at the memories of it and everything Rosaline had said. She handled the situation way differently than I had thought and picked herself up right after.
And that begged the question, was I wrong about her? It seemed as though my initial impression of her being a pushover who'd do anything to please the people close to her was flawed. Rosaline, at that moment, appeared to me like a woman who'd been forced into the shadows for so long; now, she was fighting to be seen.
I couldn't possibly know what it felt like to be in her shoes, but the hurt etched beneath those eyes seemed to cause a weight to sink into my chest. She didn't have to say much for me to see her pain, though I wasn't concerned about it.
That was what I told myself. I couldn't afford to be intrigued by the sister of the woman I loved, and everything would stay on the surface as it should be. Perhaps I could have a conversation with her parents as I wasn't aware that Rosaline didn't know the basis of this marriage.
Even her parents must think of her as a tool. It was sad, really. I stroked my chin as my elbows rested on the counter, the papers still sprawled atop the table. I left them there to continue going over the rules of the contract.
The only reason Rosaline didn't flare up to the intensity she wanted must have been because she knew her family was going to take the hit for her actions. Poor little thing. This marriage was the most inconvenient thing I'd ever dived into. Even though, during Julie's lifetime, I was hesitant to marry her, the idea of it didn't sound bad.
It was entirely different with Rosaline. With her tantrum from today, my eyes were opened to a more fiery side of her. It piqued my interest and had me budding with curiosity. And I tell you, that wasn't good for either of us.
My phone vibrated off the table, alerting me of a call from my secretary. I reached for it immediately, and pulled out of my thoughts to face the problems plaguing my reality.
"Smith, is there a problem?" I asked as I raised the phone to my ear, wishing with every part of me that there wouldn't be any. All I wanted was a hint of progress concerning the case that had the whole company on their toes.
"Good morning, boss. No, there isn't. Good news, actually. There's been a new development in the imposter's case," He declared, and I exhaled deeply, tense. "I think we have a lead."
A sense of relief washed over me, and I pursed my lips in anticipation of a response, feeling a wave of anxiety crawl up into me from my toes.
"The account from the last 'heist' was looked into again by our private investigators, and they found that there's another account linked to its name, and it is right here in the USA. However, it is under an alias, but some credit card activities from the account were traced to a bar here before it went off the radar."
"Here?" I pinched my brows together, surprised.
"Exactly, boss," He responded from the other end. "The perpetrator might be closer than we think. I'd be sending some of our-"
"Send me the address," I blatantly requested, tightening my jaw. "Fast."
"It could be dangerous. I suggest we-"
"Now."
The imposter's case had been the main problem faced by Bert fashion industry over the course of two years and had soiled our reputation in more ways than I'd expected.
Two years ago, a website with the same dynamic as ours popped up. It was the first well-programmed duplicate that anyone had ever seen, not to mention, all the items on our carts were duplicated on theirs too.
It wasn't an easy task to take it down as it was heavily secured with encryptions, security coding practices, and strong access control. When our security team was able to flag it down through hacking, the damage had already been done.
A lot of our prestigious customers had already made purchases on the website and had paid into the dummy, untraceable offshore account provided on the website. I was able to foot the loss of nine hundred and fifty-two thousand dollars in order to retain our reputation and process each customer's respective orders, but the culprit was never found.
Not to mention, a week ago, we found out that the website was up again with a better firewall, and this time, flagging it down seemed like it was going to be a more difficult task than the last time. The most disappointing fact was that the public couldn't hear about this.
The moment they did, there'd be a crash in our reputation, which would directly lead to a loss of credibility, and our demand rate would hit the floor. Who was I without Bert fashions? Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I listened to Smith say the address.
I recognized it immediately, one of the biggest bars in this state. "On it."
"Be careful, boss," Smith rushed before I disconnected the call and raced back to my room to get decent.
It wasn't an occasion that required a suit, a jacket, or even a tie, but at the end of the day, I found myself dressed like the same work robot. You really couldn't take the habit out of the man.
Despite all these, somewhere at the back of my mind was that tiny image of Rosaline, and I found that I'd been shoving down my worry. I needed to know where she was. After all, she was my wife.
*
This bar was different in a sense that I couldn't yet explain, but it was different. Nothing about it felt intriguing, and if it wasn't for my motive, this was most likely going to be the last place on earth I'd rather be.
I approached the counter, the main bar compartment occupied by a man who stared blankly at me as though he'd seen a ghost. I sucked my teeth as I arrived before him.
"G-Gerald... Thorne?" He stuttered, his eyes widening impossibly. "It is such an honor. My boss would love to hear about this!"
Yet again, my reputation has preceded me, though, in this sense, I couldn't tell if it was a good thing. This was supposed to be a secret visit, but who was I kidding?
"Let's keep my presence here a secret, shall we?" I began, fishing for my wallet and placing a few dollar notes on the table before him, pushing them into his hands. "I'm here for a reason."
He complied, smiling as he tucked the money into his pockets. "Whatever you need, sir!" The bartender was engulfed in a lively kind of youthfulness that I hadn't seen in a while. "What can I help you with?"
"This bar..." I began. "Is it normally this quiet?"
"No, sir," He turned and pointed to a staircase at the other end. "Our main point of attraction is upstairs. You can go through there, or the other staircase at the back."
"Oh..." I nodded in the affirmative, walking in the direction he pointed immediately. "Thank you."
"Anytime, Sir!"
I made my way up the stairs, and it occurred to me that the bar wasn't silent at all. I'd just been on the wrong side of it. I charged forward until I got to the hall upstairs, and my eyes fell upon the most appalling sight I never would have imagined.
My heart tore into an unexpected race as I stood, rooted to a spot, while I watched Rosaline dance with a stranger just a few steps ahead of me. My breath hitched, and I clasped my hands, trying to decide on a befitting reaction for the atrocious sight.
Her grin spread from ear to ear as she swayed in his arms like she had no care in the world. His rigid hands grabbed her by the waist, anchoring her to the sound of the music. I froze, choking back words.
I should not be reacting this way; Rosaline was none of my business to begin with, right? I could fathom the overwhelming sense of protectiveness that coursed through my skin, breaking barriers- those lines that I'd promised myself not to cross.
Before I could reach her, the man had already begun to leave, taking the exit, I realized it was the second one that the bartender had directed me to. "Rosaline?!"
Her head snapped in my direction, and she eyed me. There wasn't a single thought behind those eyes. I'd never seen a more obvious drunk. Rosaline stared at me with dulled pupils, a smirk playing on her red lips.
"If it isn't the insatiable Dr. Dolittle!" Rosaline yelled in a slurred voice, throwing her hands up in the air. She reached for her drink again, and I immediately grabbed it from her. "You think everyone is your pet, don't you?"
I didn't respond, as I had no right to be fuming, especially when she wasn't in her right senses. I took her by the wrist and pulled her. "Let's go!"
Rosaline screamed, "Let go of me, you dirty scumbag! Let me go!" She bent and lowered my hand to her knuckles, where she bit me, and I winced. "Do not touch me, or Harry Potter will find you!"
I sighed. How did she even get this drunk? Her voice attracted more attention than I wanted, leaving me with a last resort. "I do not want to be doing this," I complained as I stepped closer to her. "Sorry in advance."
Before Rosaline could protest, I scooped her up, placing my hand under her knee while the other supported her neck.
"Let go of me right now, or I'll call the police!" She yelled, looking no different from a teenager in my arms.
It was frustrating having to do anything like this. I haven't ever been in such a situation in my whole life. Call the police, my foot.
Gently cradling her in her arms, I headed to my car downstairs. "One day of being married to you, my peace is already disrupted. Way to go, Rosaline. What exactly are you?"