Part One, Chapter 2

Mark Jr. makes his first moves on Rosemary in the midst of making her feel welcome.

Chapter 2:

Soon after leaving Rosemary to unpack the rest of her belongings, I'd hurried over towards the master suite and plopped down onto my bed, not only to pass some time, but also to try and calm down after nearly losing it at the sight of the witness I was protecting. I'd then decided to try and take my mind off it by checking up on my share of the Simmons empire. Half the time, I don't even know why I bother doing that each day, because there's rarely anything to report aside from smooth performances and strong profits. Ah well, least it meant I was (almost) as competent of an overseer as my father.

At the moment, I busied myself on the phone with Justine, who was not only my sister, but also my best friend. I often confided in her whenever I needed to vent about anything, and vice-versa. I guess being twins with a non-discernible age difference means we're obligated to check up on each other frequently. Something to do with how our brains are linked, I guess.

"So let me get this straight. This Rosemary chick is in danger because she witnessed a crime in progress, and the authorities thought that the best way to protect her would be to hide her in a large, conspicuous mansion?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, I don't get it either," I replied. "But then again, it's not like I'm complaining. She's already left a strong first impression on me."

"Is that your brain talking, or your dick?" Justine continued, most likely smirking on her end of the line.

"Honestly... I'm not sure. I-I mean, don't get me wrong, there's more to a woman than her looks, I get that. You don't need to lecture me on that again," I responded. "But man, not only is she pretty, but she's also extremely likable. She loves the outdoors, she's a workaholic, and she speaks in this really adorable Southern accent."

"Uh-huh," Justine replied flatly. "Alright, I guess I'll take your word for it. But don't be surprised if she turns out to be taken or uninterested."

"Duly noted," I said, before hanging up.

By the time we'd finished our discussion, the sun was just beginning to set outside. Checking my watch revealed the time to be 6:30, which was about half an hour before I typically ate dinner. Standing up with a stretch, I made my way to the kitchen to get started on that night's meal.

---

Cooking had always been one of my favorite hobbies. It was a skill I'd been taught at a relatively young age by my parents, who were quite self-reliant despite having all the riches in the world, especially my dad. I remember when I was younger, he used to work a manual job in addition to managing his businesses just for the sake of keeping his head out of the clouds. And it didn't hurt that my mom's side of the family was of Italian descent either, which greatly influenced my cooking style and taste in cuisine.

To kick things off, I stepped into the walk-in refrigerator where I kept all my raw ingredients. I immediately made a beeline for the shelf containing all the homemade batches of pasta I'd made over time, each contained in a dated and labeled plastic bag. After spending a minute or two narrowing things down, I ended up having to choose between using blue potato gnocchi, lamb ravioli, or spicy Italian sausage tortellini. I eventually shrugged and grabbed all three bags, bringing them into the kitchen and bringing each batch to a boil on the eight-burner stove. While waiting for them to float to the surface, I got started on a four-cheese roux, infused with pesto I'd made a few days back, red pepper flakes, and fennel seeds for a little digestive help. Mixing the three combined starches into the sauce, I added in some fried pancetta crumbles and garnished the finished entrée with grated parmesan and chopped basil, before I finally set it to the side.

Opening the much smaller fridge, where I kept all my leftovers and pre-made foods, I reached in and took out a large glass bowl containing a salad I'd whipped up earlier in the day, containing walnuts, crumbled gorgonzola, and three types of berries. Not to mention a whopping four greens, which included lettuce, red cabbage, arugula, and Belgian endive. It was all tossed in a homemade caesar dressing, albeit a small enough portion so that the salad still retained its crunch.

Reaching into one of the upper cabinets, I grabbed a pill bottle and popped a single bi-colored pill into my mouth, swallowing it with the help of some sink water. It was a recently FDA-approved medication created by Xavier P. Cedric, that would counteract my Celiac's disease, enabling me to keep tonight's dinner down and eat virtually anything I wanted without a care.

Placing the whole meal on the pre-set table, I proceeded to pour two tall glasses of distilled water. Admittedly I was in the mood for either a soda or a good wine that night, but I decided against it because I didn't want it to ruin the meal's flavor, and I'm not very good when it comes to pairing wine with food. I've lost count of how many family dinners I've put a damper on by picking the wrong alcoholic accompaniment.

Plus I wanted to make sure that Rosemary could easily fall in love with what I'd cooked for her. Speaking of whom, I heard her light footsteps against the dark hardwood floors, accompanied by her sniffing as she took in the delicious aromas. I turned around to see her just as I finished setting the table, watching as she wiggled her now bare and slightly chubby toes against the floor and stretched. She pulled her top down afterwards, only to have it creep back up a couple of inches as she walked over.

"Evenin', Junior! Thought I'd take a little power nap," she smiled. "Did you make all this yourself?"

"You know it," I replied, smiling back before I saw her put on a shocked expression.

"Oh my God! Is that a fresh salad I see?!" Rosemary abruptly squealed, dashing over to the table. "Gee whiz, look at those vivid colors! Yup, this is the real deal, alright!"

"Huh. Well I'm glad you're excited. Feel free to dig in," I said.

With that, the two of us headed over towards the dinner table. I pulled Rosemary's chair out for her and watched her sit down, her back bulging out of her top as she learned forward and began to eat. I sat down and served myself equal portions of the pasta and salad, before looking up at Rosemary as she served herself some of the latter. She took a bite and immediately winced, before grabbing her plate and making a beeline for the microwave.

"Er... is everything okay?" I asked.

"Oh, it's all good," Rosemary reassured me. "I just can't eat my produce cold. At this point in my life, I'm just so used to eatin' it fresh and room temperature."

A couple of minutes passed before she brought her plate back to the table.

"Ah, there we go." Rosemary grinned. "Might be a little warm, but close enough."

"I'll keep that in mind from now on," I replied, starting in on my food. "But honestly, I've never seen anyone microwave salad before."

"Heh, well they say everyone's a weirdo in their own way, and I guess this just so happens to be one of my quirks," Rosemary chuckled.

---

After finishing dinner and capping off the meal with some Neapolitan gelato from the freezer, I busied myself packing up that night's leftovers and leaving them in the fridge, before moving on to wash the dishes. As I did so, I thought to myself about how my first attempt at winning my guest over had failed overall. Sure, nothing went wrong, and I was able to learn a thing or two about her, but I was honestly expecting a bit more of a reaction. Then again, I still had three months to try again, so there was no point in sweating it.

I occasionally glanced around, watching as Rosemary gave herself a tour of the first floor, her top riding up and her breasts and gut bouncing slightly; all the while her face maintained an expression of awe. She managed to finish walking around as I finished the dishes.

"Alright, I think it's time for me to turn in," Rosemary yawned, stretching again.

"Alrighty then," I replied, secretly wishing she'd stay up with me. "Good night, and don't hesitate to let me know if anything goes wrong. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night," Rosemary replied as she headed upstairs.

I waited just a moment before going upstairs myself so I wouldn't look like a creep, not moving an inch until I heard the door to the hall of guest rooms close. Making my way into my own room, I stripped down to my boxers and took the next few minutes to let all of that day's events soak in. Before I knew it, I was out like a light, no thanks to the copious amounts of carbohydrates in my system.