Chapter Five

The first few days working with Rose was an eye opener. I learned on my feet, mastering a new skill moments before I needed to use it. It was exhausting and exhilarating. I'd never felt more at one with the world nor with my place in it. Rose was relentless, her energy and drive inspired me. She challenged me daily, on an hourly basis. She never allowing me to back down. I'd been hired as a copywriter but slowly my duties began to encompass Rosalie's personal appointments too.

I quickly realised that Rose was more than an ordinarily angeleno socialite. I googled her name and discovered that besides being a humanitarian, she was also an actress and a director. Rosalie was famous and I was no body, the thought made me sick. But I soon learned that fame was just one of the many facets of her life, she was so much more than that. It was all just a job to her, all except her precious charities. This was where her attention was truly focused.

Her enthusiasm was contagious, I was on fire with a love of life, my life. I didn't mind the hectic workload. In fact I loved having some responsibility for Rosalie's life. I had grown very protective of her. She never said a word, as I took on more and more of her personal workload as well as my own. She concentrated on her new business venture with Kelly, who practically lived at the house. I stayed off the roads as long as humanly possible, until the day Rose demanded I book lessons in order to retake my licence. I gave in as graciously as I could. After all, I did have to drive eventually. I was still determined not to venture onto the massive and frankly terrifying highways.

I watched Rose whenever I felt safe to do so. My obsession with her had become a hobby. Her tall, lithe figure set my entire body alight with delight. I was in love with the way she moved and spoke. There was a slight sway to her slender hips as she walked, as well as a confidence which was a little intimidating. I admired so much about her personal mannerisms; there was a specific tilt to her head when she was considering some new idea and a sparkle to her vivid blue eyes when she was on fire with some project idea. I was besotted, she was my dream woman and yet she was the one person I couldn't have.

We became friends, it was inevitable. The spark between us demanded a closer relationship than merely a professional one. I wasn't sure if Rose felt anything for me. I was her latest charity case. A fixer upper - although I didn't mind in the slightest. In fact I was grateful to have been rescued. I began to be confident in my new role and this gave me confidence to just be myself in any situation.

Rosalie and I shared ideals, we used each other as sounding boards numerous times a day. We argued good naturedly, often combining our visions after much deliberation. Leah often rolled her eyes at us in exasperation. She didn't seem to be in the slightest bit jealous of the rapport I'd developed with her long time best friend.

My soul was on fire with possibilities. For the first time in my life I was free to create and share my thoughts without reservation.

I'd fallen in love with Los Angeles. The warm breezes infused my soul with languid peace, while the waves I visited daily soothed my innermost doubts. I thrived on the heat and for the first time in forever my life was just about fucking perfect.

At home I was part of the furniture now, a part of Rose's life. I loved the familiarity I'd developed with all the people in her life. It was as though I was practically family.

I never allowed myself to grow too complacent, because I couldn't bear to lose what I now had. This life was everything to me.

Rose won the battle to get me on the roads by sending me further and further afield with each errand, until I was confidently navigating Los Angeles's roads. I was ridiculously triumphant the first day I did so, exultant and feeling very adult.

I adapted to my surroundings by buying new clothes and makeup. Rose booked me an appointment with her own hairdresser after I'd expressed a desire for a haircut. My very long hair was layered and while there I spontaneously decided to get an undercut, without sacrificing any of the length. If I wore my hair up, the edgy style was obvious, but once down it was well hidden.

I went back to the house feeling somewhat nervous about my new hairstyle. Rose was at her desk working on her latest screenplay. I deliberately tossed my hair over the left side of my head so that the undercut was exposed. Rose stared, her gaze lingering on my face.

"I like it." She told me, her startling eyes staring at me over her reading glasses.

It was ridiculous that she should look so hot while wearing them. I stared, my gaze dropping, only for a fraction of a second, to her full lips. She wore no makeup, her lips were bare and yet still managed to look petal soft. I stopped breathing. My heart was beating erratically in my chest. God. I wanted her so much. I wanted to touch her lips so badly, I could literally taste it. I stepped away abruptly and dropped my purse onto my desk.

I drew in a huge lungful of air while my back was turned to her. I allowed myself the luxury of squeezing my eyes shut as I did so, trying to refocus. I was so very grateful that Rose didn't know about my little infatuation. The humiliation alone would kill me. She was clearly not gay, or even curious and she was happily married. I knew that my obsession could only ever be just that.

I sat down and tied up my much thinner hair into a messy bun on top of my head. The short sides were a novelty and I stoked my fingers over it as I started up my laptop.

"I have to feel it." Rose said suddenly, she'd clearly been watching me play with my new hair.

I froze, uncontrollable nervous excitement pulsing through me. I smiled at her as she got up from her chair and came towards me, trying to act as nonchalant as humanly possible.

She stopped directly behind my chair, I could feel her presence, it was like a physical touch. I waited, my breath caught in my throat as I braced myself for her touch. When it came, I could barely contain the moan of surrender which threatened to escape. Her fingers softly ran along my temples before her nails skimming the short hair above my ears. Her index finger grazed my right ear before her hands dropped onto my shoulders.

My eyes were shut, my lips parted as I tried really hard to control myself. A darkly addictive excitement built inside me. A need so intense it left me breathless.

"It feels like velvet." She mused just above my head. I forced my eyes open, and smiled at her over my shoulder.

"I've always wanted to try this haircut but I was too afraid of such a big change."

Rose leaned in as if she were reading the document on my screen, her body brushing the back of my head.

"And now?" She asked.

I drew in a steadying breath. "Now seems like a good time for all kinds of change." I said, pleased with my self control.

She was so close, her scent enveloping me. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly to refocus.

"Good. I'm glad you feel that way." She murmured.

She moved away then and I relaxed. I started typing and then froze as I caught my own flushed, breathless reflection in the small mirror I kept beside my laptop. I'd forgotten it was there. It was directed at my face because I used it to check my appearance before online meetings. A cold feeling of dread built in my belly. Could Rose have seen me? I felt sick as I contemplated her witnessing my earlier reaction to her proximity. It was so raw, I felt exposed.

I glanced up and found her watching me from her desk, her gaze enigmatic.

I looked down fast and carried on typing. There was no way to be sure if she had seen my bizarre reaction to her without asking her directly and that I could never do.

………………………...

The weeks passed in a perfect limbo. I now ran most of Rose's life as her unofficial personal assistant. Her clients, friends and business contacts all came to know me. Writing was shoved onto a back burner as I juggled my new life. I wrote short pieces for Rosalie's charity and I posted daily to her social media pages, but I lost interest in my own projects. They just weren't as important to me. Rose read most of my older stuff, she critiqued all of my pieces and often pressed me to do something with them.