(Author's POV)
The screen lit up with an iMessage from Alexander Hawthorne. The text was concise and terrifying.
*I am downstairs. Is it convenient to come up?*
Rosalie stared at the words for a full ten seconds. Confusion and panic swirled in her chest. Why was the CEO of Hawthorne Group at her apartment building?
She sat up straight, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She typed a few words, deleted them, and typed again. She had no idea how to respond to a man of his stature appearing unannounced.
Before she could hit send, a second message popped up.
*I brought a replacement for the dress Sienna soiled.*
Rosalie blinked. It was just a few tears. A trip to the dry cleaners would have fixed it easily. She started typing a polite refusal. *It's really not necessary, Mr. Hawthor
