Chapter Text
The clatter of her footsteps echoed in the silence of Ruby's Corporation & Co., as Jennie dramatically filed past the silent windows of the sixth floor, heading for her usual Monday meeting.
Being a female CEO had been difficult for her in the early days, but now, after years of hard work, she has managed to earn the respect she deserved.
Even though she wasn't too proud of it, there was a certain fear , especially among her advisors.
A group of misogynistic males who, after a period of playing dumb and underestimating her, had reawakened her ire.
Now that they knew how far Jennie was willing to go, they had learned to keep their place—and yes, they still underestimated her, amidst the silence and shadows of the office—but now she had understood that this was the only possible direction.
She entered the meeting room, and immediately the voices fell silent. The directors and everyone else who had access to the meeting stood up in silence, and once Jennie took her seat, they bowed briefly and sat back down.
"I think we can get started with the meeting. I'd like it to be efficient and quick. I have another important meeting at 10:00. I'd appreciate it if you don't waste my time." Her voice echoed through the room, and with a nod, all the computers were turned on.
-Let's start with the design team. I want a presentation on all the pieces you've designed for the winter collection, and in the meantime, the marketing team should prepare to present all the relevant data on previous releases and our branches in the various countries.-
With that, she carefully took her notebook, unscrewed the cap, and focused his gaze on the design team's presenter.
As the boy spoke, Jennie let her feline eyes roam over the projections scrolling across the whiteboard. She sensed something was missing; in fact, she'd been sensing it for a while.
She sensed something missing in his clothes, a detail that seemed fundamental but that she consistently overlooked. After the boy finished his presentation, she sat down and, after a brief nod—she didn't want anyone to notice even a hint of her indecision; every ill-calculated move was a mistake in her already delicate position as an administrator—she gave the floor to the marketing team.
Subconsciously, she began to twirl the pen between her slender fingers as she followed the employee's words:
- Our recent summer collection was a huge hit, sales spiked at all branches by a good 70%, and the Oriental Flowers perfume line was a success…-
Hearing the name of her perfume line, Jennie felt her heart skip a beat.
-They were all amazed by the unusual name she'd given it. Jennie hadn't given any particular explanation for it, but she still remembered the moment she'd realized she'd called it that.
One morning, just after waking up from a dream she didn't fully remember but which had left a bittersweet taste in her mouth, she'd written the two words "Oriental Flowers" on a piece of paper and proposed the name to the board without hesitation-
She felt a familiar tingle on her right wrist that made her stop.
-...and statistics show that Korea, Thailand, and India are the countries where the perfume has seen the greatest success.-
Now Jennie will try to forget this fact for the rest of the day, failing miserably.
For some reason, something in that sentence triggered a chain of events in her body that led to the worst moment of that Monday that had seemed to start well.
Her heart raced even faster, and a shiver ran through her body, followed by tingling sensations that completely caught Jennie off guard. She let out a soft squeak (but in the completely silent room, it echoed louder than necessary), abruptly dropping the pen she was holding.
The room fell silent. The marketing team member suddenly stopped talking. Jennie felt all eyes on her and desperately wanted the power to bury herself.
Massaging her wrist where the tingling was most annoying, she let out a short sigh before raising her head and speaking with all the composure she could muster. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I think I pinched my wrist with the pen. We can postpone the meeting until tomorrow; we're almost out of time anyway."
Despite her terrible embarrassment, she stood up gracefully and, after everyone else did the same to say goodbye, she exited the meeting room, slamming the door lightly, startling the secretary sitting next to her.
As soon as she was outside, she headed as quickly as possible to the elevator and hit the top floor where her office was located.
As soon as the doors closed, giving her a moment of privacy, her mask of composure finally shattered, and she slumped against the elevator. She slowly pulled back the sleeve of her white suit that was covering her wrist, then slowly wiped the traces of foundation she'd applied that morning from her wrist, as she had always done since receiving those things.
That's right, those , plural .
She removed the last layer of foundation, and the drawing of a chick appeared before her eyes. Usually, it was a well-defined tattoo, even if black, that showed off the entire design, but now the pulsating under the skin, which seemed unstoppable, had created a reddish border all around it.
She slowly ran her hand over the entire tattoo, following each line as if to reassure him, not even she was sure if it would work.
As soon as the doors opened, Jennie rushed to the private bathroom of her office, locked the door—because even if her office was safe, one can never be too careful—and slowly took off her jacket, remaining in her undershirt.
She took the water and, after slowly running it over her reddened wrist, slowly did the same on her left and right shoulder blades, revealing the tattoos of a rabbit and a squirrel. Although both were pulsating under the skin, only around the rabbit her skin was as red as on her wrist.
Jennie looked in the mirror and almost saw the girl who had first discovered them. Her hair had lost its original shape, and her face was covered in a confusion that had previously been covered by cold professionalism.
Because even though she was born in Korea, raised in New Zealand, and then, after opening her company, in America—places where polyamory was still accepted—Jennie had spent the first few years after receiving those tattoos hating them with all her heart.
Why should she be any different?
So, on top of the difficulties she already faced as a woman, she added the problem of having not one, not two, but three soulmates.
Running her hand over her face, she let out a long, somehow calming sigh, rinsed her face, touched up her makeup and hair, put her jacket back on (this time she didn't cover them with foundation; the redness of the tattoos stopped her from doing so; they didn't seem to like being covered), praying that the sleeve wouldn't reveal anything, and she left the bathroom.
She put on her now-perfect CEO mask and continued her day as if nothing had happened, the only reminders of the incident being the less-than-discreet glances of her employees and the faint flickering of her tattoos, which remained with her throughout the day.
Finally, at 10:30 PM, after finishing all the things she needed to do, she grabbed her bag and finally left to head home.
That evening, when she finally got into bed, her tattoos had faded, or at least most of them, because the chick on her wrist remained reddish and continued to sting. Before closing her eyes, a thought intruded into her already half-asleep mind.
- What if something had happened to the owner of this chick? -
But eventually sleep overcame her worries, and Jennie fell asleep.
Alpine Clinic of St. Bernhard - Switzerland
5:00 am
-Well, Manoban, it looks like you have a sprained ankle. Nothing serious, but I'd ask you to rest for at least two weeks. -
From her bed, still groggy from the pain medication they'd given her, she felt the anger building inside her.
- Damn you, little bear! -
She muttered before falling back into dreamland.