The air always smelled like coffee and burnt sugar. It was the kind of place people came to when they wanted to be seen or when they didn't want to go home. She learned to read faces the way others read menus.
That was where she met him.
He came in often, always alone, always polite. He liked his coffee strong and complained softly about how lonely his days were. Roselyn smiled when she took his order, listening more than she spoke. Men liked that. They mistook silence for kindness.
She didn't touch him. She didn't need to.
By the time he finished his drink, he was already looking for her approval.
"your bill sir" she carefully handed him, she could see the yearning in his eyes , the want and desire . "thank for the service" she nods and put slip in his pocket and winked at him.
Marcus Hale was a man in his late thirties who carried success like a shield. He worked as a property developer, owned several apartment buildings across the city, and was known for his polite smile and generous donations.
People called him respectable, the kind of man who shook hands firmly and spoke softly, the kind no one questioned. He had grown up with nothing, and somewhere along the way he learned that money could buy more than comfort—it could buy control. He never raised his voice or left bruises; instead, he pressured, promised, and quietly threatened through contracts and favors. Women who depended on him often felt uneasy around him, but he was careful, always careful, and no one ever accused him openly.
Roselyn noticed him the way she noticed all men like him. He came into the café alone, ordered his coffee strong, and talked about how lonely his life was, as if hardship excused the way his eyes lingered. . She chose him not out of cruelty, but recognition.
Marcus Hale believed attention was owed to him, that admiration could be taken as easily as rent was collected. He reminded her of everything the world had done to her quietly, politely, and without consequence. And men like Marcus never thought someone like Roselyn would see through them—until it was too late.
after her shift ended , she strode at the back of the cafe, a faint smell of cigarettes lingers.she puts a sincere face on , mind filled with endless thoughts.
The air brushed cool on her skin , cheeks red." my heart aches for your touch" Marcus said, Roselyn blushes, tucking the strands of her hair."how far are you willing to take it" he extended his hand, she took willingly.
The drive to his house was awkward since he asked questions about Roselyn and her life , they bonded through lies and uncertainty.
"are you a virgin"