Burberry dark brown diamond quilted trench coat on her slim body and a cream colored Louis Vuitton handbag attached to her elbow, 21 years-old Rosaline Atucier walked through the stores, clacking her five inched gold leathered Christian Louboutin high heels on the marble floor with her Versace Crystal Noir perfume spread throughout the loaded Galeries Lafayette’s balcony. Her chestnut colored hair flow swiftly on her chest and shoulder and her golden Cartier bracelets jingled with a melody of resonance.
With a high confidence, she walked through people who all wore expensive suits, well-known designer’s designs with jingling gold and shining diamonds, and arrived in front of a dark glass door shop with a sign written ‘A.T.ROSALINE’, hung on top of it. With a proud smile, she entered it, where her loyal assistant, Trinity Klogue, was already waiting for her, but she did not mind as she directly headed towards the storage room which was full of mannequins, jewelry cases in leather cases, and diamond, gold, and ruby knitted dresses. These were all her designs, magnificent designs.
She set up Vaudeville Mannequins which were coated with gold sheets on the round podiums behind the store’s glass window and inside the store, dressing them in her newest, A.T.ROSALINE’s velvet dresses and trench coats. She also arranged her hard-to-afford perfumes on the top most of the crystal shelves beside the store’s glass door, with Baccarat Les Larmes Sacrees de Thebes, Clive Christian, Henry Almeras, and Ralph Lauren’s perfumes on the empty parts of the shelves.
She then put head, hands, and legs mannequins on the glass display jewelry box that was full of shining gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, and jade stones, and decorated those un-whole mannequins with jewelry. By the time her Vacherin Constantin watch struck ten o’clock, she immediately turned the door sign from ‘CLOSED’ to ‘OPEN’.
Rosaline’s excellence was proved. The store was crowded by wealthy women, walking delicately while trying on some perfumes and examining the magnificent dresses.
“Excusez-moi, how much is this?” asked a woman, approximately in her 40s.
“That’s…” before Rosaline can finish her answer; she was interrupted by another woman in Prada purple dress.
“Why should you bother? Your family got too much money, it should be spent,” the woman nudged her, maybe, friend.
Useless women, they could only waste their family and husband’s wealth, Rosaline thought.
The store was always empty when the hot sun struck Paris but would always be restocked in the evening.
By the time Rosaline was watching the crowd queuing in front of the cashier while Trinity kept open and close the cashier machine from the balcony, on the second floor of the store, her Goldstriker iPhone vibrated in her trench coat pocket.
“Bonjour?” she answered
“Is this Velvet Angel?” asked a deep male voice.
“Yes and no… Who is this?” asked Rosaline in her cool, proud, and full of dignity voice.
“I’m Nicholas Spencer, the director of Blacknight Shades of London. I had heard about you and hoped that you can help me finish a trouble, is that alright for you?”
A smile passed on Rosaline’s rosy face.
“That is my job, helping people with their troubles. So what can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry, I’m in a hurry. I will send you all the details, thank you so much, Ms. Velvet,” the sound unconnected after saying those.
The man’s word was truth. Not long after the hurried talk, Rosaline’s iPhone vibrated again. It was a message.
From: 08 90 97 68 35
With honor I ask for your help to help me in my biggest trouble. Someone seems to be having an eye on my job as the director of the Blacknight Shades from London, the entertainment company. He is one of the favorite guys of my boss but is lower rank than me. His name is Rusell Mcdonald. I think he will be of great, great trouble for me in the future. Can we meet tonight? Any place would be fine.
Please help me.
Below the text, attached a picture of a man in black tuxedo with a flower brooch attached to the left pocket. He didn’t look so old, maybe in his 40s. He had a black wavy hair, a tall figure, and tanned skin.
With a quick motion, Rosaline typed back:
To: 08 90 97 68 35
Subject: Re; TROUBLE!
I can’t have a real long talk, but a few minutes may do. Le Park Restaurant, tonight at 9 p.m.
New mission, she thought as she slide the phone back into her pocket.
“Trinity,” she called her assistant until her assistant looked up. “We should close at 7 p.m. You should help me,” she then continued.