Dominic's PoV

Surprisingly enough, I already knew Corrine's sister. Myra Flynn was a top interior designer who had taken the reins in designing Strata. Along the way, Myra and I became friends and a sort of business partners; she now designs for the other Strata boutiques. Myra had a dry sense of humor, an even more dry sense of sarcasm, a dull sense of sensitivity, and a strong sense of loyalty. She was one of the most reliable and determined people I could ever hope to meet.

"Hey, Dominic, I'm surprised to see you." Myra gave Corrine a strange look and gave me one of her signature wooden hugs. "What brings you here?"

Corrine held up her hands in surprise, "Wait, you two know each other?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you about the Malaise firm working with Strata Enterprise?" Myra smiled at me, ignoring the glare Corrine had trained on her, "I thought I told you about it."

"Well, it must have slipped your mind." Sulkily, Corrine walked off into a room, slamming the door behind her.

"So, why the surprise visit?

"Well, I was taking a relaxing walk to Strata headquarters until I ran into Corrine and your little pony," I pointed out the excited, abnormally large dog that was tracking mud across the penthouse's formally pristine floors. "One jump and I received a lovely battle wound." I chuckled good naturedly and pointed to the enormous coffee stain. "And, your sister offered to give me a change of clothes, so here I am."

"Oh, Minnie, what will I do with you?" Myra cooed to the oversized dog, "So, aside from being assaulted by my dog, how have you been, Dominic?"

"I've been well, Strata is starting to gain more attention, which is good, and I've just gotten out of a dead end relationship."

"Oh," A pause, "I heard about Sasha. I'm so sorry, Corrine usually well behaved. It's not in her character to do something so bold. Not that it's so surprising…"

"'Well behaved?' You sound like her mother and aren't you the younger one?" My tone grew startlingly sharp as if Myra was insulting me instead of her own sister. "Besides, Corrine offered me a spare change of clothing, which I must say is the response one makes if one has manners."

"Oh sure, but that's only one incident. As of late, Corrine's been extremely immature." said Myra defensively, "Like how she's applying for a new job but she won't tell me where she's applied to until she hears back. She's making a huge fuss like a child. I don't even see what the big deal is."

"Really? I'm being immature?" Corrine had seemingly materialized out of thin air, handing a pile of neatly folded clothing into my open hands, "You know what Myra? I'm not even going to dignify that comment with a response."

Angrily, Corrine stormed off, again, to what I could only assume was her room. Nonchalantly, Myra simply shrugged. Picking up a tiny purse, Myra petted the furry fiend and pointed to a door down the hall, "The bathroom is down the hall to the left, you can change there. Dominic, I hoped to talk more with you but I have to go to work now. Maybe I'll see you at my engagement party in a few weeks?"

"Sure." Giving Myra a feigned smile, I allowed myself to be stiffly hugged by her again.

With a subtle click, the front door closed behind Myra and I headed off to the bathroom. Stark and cold, Myra's bathroom was as clean and sterile as a hospital room. While a bathroom may not be a reflection of one's soul, it certainly can give an impression of who a person is and Myra's bathroom seemed to be calmly whispering that its owner is not the most heart warming. Then again, I may just be distracting myself from the task at hand.

After changing into a pair of crisp chinos, I found myself wrestling my way into a lime green polo. Myra's fiancée, who I have not met yet, had to have the physique of a stick insect or a tiny man considering the fact that I wear a size small in men's. As I pondered on the idea that Myra's fiancée was indeed a stick insect who spent his days eating leaves or a dwarf who spent his days working in the mines, still wriggling my way into the damned shirt, my thoughts were interrupted by a terrible ripping sound. In a feeble manner, the polo limply slumped onto the tiled floor, the wrinkles in the fabric seemed to make a frown and I furrowed my brows in what I imagined to be defiant. I exhaled deeply. Bloody wonderful, I've managed to make the simple task of changing into a shirt look impossibly difficult. Corrine is going to think that I'm the biggest prick.

Picking up the torn shirt, I left the bathroom and made my way to Corrine's room. I was about to knock onto the door when I heard the sound of soft sobs. The sobs were quiet and reserved but I could hear the familiar brokenness and the loneliness in them. She sounded like a lost child, like when my younger sister, Mara, was five and had to go to our parents' funeral. I've heard myself make these sounds before. Backing away from the door, I considered my options: one, bother the obviously emotional Corrine, or two, take care of everything myself and leave her be. For some reason, the latter was severely unappealing and I reminded myself that I owe nothing to this girl, a few years younger than myself, this clumsy, comely girl with fiery hair and a overactive dog. And yet, there was a stirring in my chest that compelled me to knock on Corrine's door, convincing me that she needed company. Two raps on the door were all it took to have Corrine open the door, revealing her tear stained cheeks and reddened complexion.

"What?" There was a moment of silence as she caught sight of my bare chest, which I suppose I should have covered. Her cheeks bloomed into two roses and her large eyes ogled my chest in what could have been admiration.

"I think the shirt you gave me is too small." I said, feeling the urge to smack my forehead at the vast understatement.

Inspecting the ripped shirt, Corrine said wryly, "You don't say. I forgot that this was Jack's kid brother's shirt, last time he came to New York, he threw up on this shirt when he saw the giraffes in Central Park Zoo." Catching the sight of my horrified expression, Corrine giggled, "Don't worry, it's been washed several times since then. I'll go get you another shirt."

Following her to another room, I asked, "Are you all right? I mean sisters fight all the time, and trust me I know, but they always forgive each other no matter what."

Opening a drawer, Corrine said, "It wasn't that."

"Then, what was it?"

"Nothing. It's stupid and won't matter to you." Proffering a neatly folded collar shirt, Corrine gave the indication that the conversation had ended.

Refusing the shirt, I said, "Try me. I won't change until you tell me."

Corrine's features twisted into an expression of incredulity, hesitation, and annoyance. "Why do you care?"

"Because you've been genuinely nice to me in the past few days and I'd like to help you any way possible. Why do you think I offered you a job at Strata?"

"Actually, you offered me an interview." She retorted petulantly. With a sigh, Corrine tossed the shirt onto my chest and sat on the bed, her voice breaking into a whisper, "I thought that I would have more time."

"Time? Like a watch or a clock?"

Glaring, Corrine said, "I was supposed to have the interview, you so generously offered, today. At nine and clearly I'm late. Forty minutes late to be exact and considering that Strata is clearly busy, I doubt that Grace Wright, however nice she is, is going to reschedule. So, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Strata, but I doubt we'll meet each other again. Myra will give you your to-be-dry-cleaned clothes soon."

I couldn't help but laugh at her silly display of drama, finishing buttoning up the new shirt, "Is that all?"

"Excuse me?"

"Get up, take a shower, primp yourself or whatever women do to get ready, get dressed, and get your resume and application ready. I'll call my butler, Godfrey, to pick us up and I'll get Grace to reschedule your interview for sometime later today." I offered a hand.

Dumbfounded, Corrine stared at my hand as if it were a snake.

"Don't you know who I am? I'm Dominic bloody Strata and if I want, I'll get you a damn interview. And I want."

There was a moment of silence before Corrine's features broke out into an expression of genuine happiness, laughter bubbling forth from her lips, "Thank you."

Sorry for taking so long but writer's block has struck again. Ugh, I know, excuses excuses. I'm sorry to all my readers that waited and I hope that my writer's block has ended for good. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this installment of Satin Roses.