Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 1

Emersyn

I should have taken it as a bad omen when I walked into my office this morning to find my cactus dead. Seriously, who manages to kill a cactus?

Well, apparently, me.

Aren't cacti supposed to be practically indestructible? Isn't that the whole appeal of having one? I admit, I don't have a green thumb, but come on.

This cactus has been by my side since I started this job four years ago. It was my very first office decoration. I've gone weeks without watering it before, and it always managed to tough it out. Just yesterday, it looked perfectly healthy when I left. But today, it's dead.

Farewell, dear Mr. Prickles. You'll be sorely missed.

As I stare at the lifeless form of Mr. Prickles, a wave of guilt washes over me. How could I have let this happen? I have taken for granted the resilience of my spiky companion.

A pang of nostalgia sweeps through me as I think about the day I first brought Mr. Prickles into my office. He represented a fresh start, a small touch of nature amidst the sterile corporate environment. Over the years, Mr. Prickles had become more than just a plant; he was a constant presence, silently witnessing the ups and downs of my professional journey. And I have to admit, it's mostly been downs.

This was never a job I wanted. I never saw myself sitting behind a desk all day. I always thought I would have a job working with my hands. Something creative, maybe.

But here I am.

I guess having a job that pays the bills comes with its sacrifices, like draining your soul. But hey, at least I can afford a roof over my head, right? Silver linings, I suppose.

As I continue my morning, clicking away at my computer, I can't help but feel a void in my office without Mr. Prickles. He was irreplaceable, but the emptiness lingers. Maybe it's time for a new addition, something low-maintenance. A fake plant sounds tempting. I could even place it in actual potting soil, creating the illusion of life. At least that way, I won't risk accidentally killing it.

Halfway through the day, just as I'm absorbed in my work, my office phone interrupts with a shrill ring.

"Emersyn Hill's office," I answer, curious about the unexpected call.

"Hi, Miss Hill. David wants to see you in his office before you head out for lunch," Cynthia, the receptionist, relays.

"Thank you, Cynthia," I reply, my mind racing with possibilities.

Why would David want to see me? Could it be the long-awaited promotion I've been tirelessly chasing? I've poured my heart and soul into boosting my production numbers. Perhaps today holds a silver lining after all.

With a mix of excitement and curiosity, I gather my purse, keys, and phone and make my way to David's office. Maybe my hard work is finally paying off, and this meeting with David will be the turning point I've been yearning for.

I knock lightly on the door and hear a muffled "Come in."

Entering David's office, I find him seated behind his imposing desk, his expression unreadable. The air feels heavy as if the room itself holds secrets.

David is surprisingly young, maybe around thirty, for someone in his position as CEO of a company. It was unexpected to see someone so young in such a high-ranking role. However, it turns out that he's what you might call a "nepo-baby." His father owns, like, a bazillion companies and essentially handed David one on a silver platter.

He's a good boss, though. Oftentimes clueless, but good nonetheless. I've never seen him angry or yell. Which is a far cry from the other CEOs and businessmen that have been in and out of this office.