Page 1 of The Blood Rose

CHAPTER ONE

Dean Simon hated his fucking life. At twenty-four with a master’s in finance, he found himself in the most hate-filled, stagnant, self-esteem-killing job in all of Chicago. He should have taken his grandfather's advice and become a plumber, but no, he wanted a job that would give him class and sophistication.

In the end all he got was a low end job as a financial analyst with a struggling firm in Chicago. His manager, Ryan, worked long and hard to make Dean’s life a complete nightmare. It was the man’s only entertainment apparently.

Dean was the fall guy for every misstep and mistake made by anyone at the firm, from projections to buyouts to when to purchase more toilet paper for the restroom. It was always Dean’s fault. He and his master’s degree were considered a dime a dozen and there was no way out from where he was looking. He should have become a plumber.

“Dean! Get in here and bring your pad I want you to take notes.” Ryan shouted from the door of his office and Dean could hear the snickering from his coworkers in response to the blatant disrespect. Nobody liked Ryan but they would gladly play along with his attacks and insults rather than have the man turn on them.

He got up and with pad in hand headed to Ryan’s office. When he arrived, there were two other managers there both good friends of Ryan's. Ryan slammed the door as soon as Dean walked inside and then grabbed him by the back of the neck and walked him over to a low stool by the window. “You’ll sit there.” He gave him a forced stare down and then laughed when Dean looked away. “As I thought.” He crowed.

"We're going to dictate your confession, and you're going to take it down verbatim." He smiled, and Dean felt a chill run up his spine. "I moved some money around, a lot of money, and it's now gone, and you're going to take responsibility."

“I will do no such thing. Your shit investments are your own problem." Dean stated, and attempted to stand, but Ryan pushed him back down onto the stool.

“I didn’t tell you that you could move or speak.” He snarled.

“I’m not confessing to anything.” He shot back and Ryan took a feigned affronted step back and placed his hand on his chest.

"You don't have to. I just thought it would add a nice touch. You see, I've already set you up to take the heat on this. Monday morning, they'll come for you, and you’ll be taken into Mr. Channing’s office." He laughed and turned to his friends sitting there, who also joined in on the hilarity. "If you're lucky, you'll just lose your job. As a matter of fact, I think I'll just fire you now. That way, it will look like I was on top of things.”

Dean jumped to his feet and started for the door, but Ryan intercepted him and landed a punch to the side of Dean's face, knocking him backward against the wall. Ryan wasn’t big or muscular, but he was bigger than Dean. At five foot five inches and one hundred twenty pounds, he wasn't much of a threat. Ryan grabbed Dean's hair, pulled him up, and punched him solidly in the midsection.

It took his breath away, and Dean bent over, trying to breathe. "This is just a sample of the ass-kicking I'll give you if you dare to speak out against me. I will fucking kill you, and no one will care." Ryan went at him with both fists, whaling on him until Dean lay on the floor in a ball with his arms over his head and face.

He wasn't badly hurt since Ryan couldn't land a decent punch if his life depended on it, but the humiliation was crimpling him. He liked to play the big man but lacked the strength and character to make it a reality. He was just a clown, but he was Dean's boss, which made him dangerous.

Ryan finally quit when one of the others warned him that he might kill Dean and then they’d have no one to take the fall for them. Ryan laughed breathlessly and gave Dean one last kick to the stomach before they all left the room, leaving Dean there alone to gather himself and leave.

He wasn’t sure what this all meant or what would happen to him on Monday. He should have quit this job months ago, but he didn't, and that was a mistake he was going to pay for. He managed to get to his feet and made himself look somewhat presentable. This was turning into a fucking nightmare. There was no one there who would stand up for him, not if it meant standing against Ryan.

Dean left by the back door that led into the outer hall. He didn’t bother to clean up his desk or grab his jacket he couldn’t walk back into that room knowing that everyone there had heard what was happening and did nothing about it. He stopped at the bathroom on the first floor and washed up before leaving. Barry the guard at the main door looked at him with concern but did not ask any questions for which Dean was glad because he just wanted to get out of there.

Once he was home, he took a couple painkillers and hoped for the best. He was fired for sure; that was a given. Ryan was in good with Mr. Channing, so he would believe anything Ryan presented, and he didn't know Dean at all. Mr. Channing only socialized with those who appeared to be goal-oriented go-getters. But most of the go-getters were riding on the backs of the quiet, hard workers, stealing their work and successes and presenting them as their own, like Ryan. It’s just the way the finance business operates according to the go-getters who had kill or be killed as their motto.

“What are you doing?” His friend Ashley called to check up on him.

“Sitting in my recliner trying to figure out where I went wrong in my life. I have no idea how I ended up where I am.” Dean began to pour out his heart.

"Tell me what happened." She pressed, and Dean told her everything. She was his best and only friend in this town, and her support was always spot-on.

“Can you report him and the others in that room?” She asked

"It will be my word against theirs, and he said no one would believe me, which is probably true." Dean sat on his sofa, wringing his hands, feeling totally defeated. "I'm fired for something Ryan and his cohorts concocted."

"Report them even if nothing comes of it with you; at least you left a paper trail for someone else." Ashley was like that, always thinking about the next person. But Dean wasn't in the mood to think about anyone but himself.

"They're in their thirties, a lot older than me, and they've been doing shit like this their entire careers. No way would I be able to beat them if I tried anything; they would just make life harder for me. I think my best move is to disappear." He was becoming morose, and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“You need a night out to just forget the day and enjoy yourself and don’t you dare turn me down.” Ashley suggested quite forcefully.

“No, I can’t get off the sofa. I’m going to sit here and wallow in my misery.” Dean responded.

“No, you’re coming with me. Get your ass off that sofa and get ready for a night out.” She stated sharp and firm, and Dean knew he wasn't going to be able to say no. "There's this bar on the southside. It's dark, wild, and rough and just what you need. Come on, take a walk on the wild side with me. Who knows, you might get lucky. The guys at this bar are drop-dead gorgeous, every one of them.”

His immediate reaction was to decline, but then the idea of stepping out of his comfort zone and maybe shaking up his life started to feel right. "What's the name of this place?"

“The Blood Rose.” She drew out the name and made it sound particularly scary. “Are you scared?” She teased.

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