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The Florist’s Haven
The bell above the shop door chimed softly, its delicate ring blending with the fragrance of roses, lilies, and freshly cut lavender.
Elena knelt behind the counter, arranging a bouquet of ivory tulips with the steady hands of someone who had turned flowers into an art form. Her little shop on the corner was her pride a place where beauty lived untouched by the chaos of the world.
Outside, Lagos buzzed with impatient horns and hurried footsteps, but inside Bloom & Grace, time slowed. The world here was soft, fragrant, and safe.
She hummed as she tied a ribbon, her mind wandering to her wedding dress, tucked away in her closet at home. In just two weeks, she would marry Daniel. The thought made her lips curve into a quiet smile. He was steady, charming, and successful. Everything she thought she wanted.
The bell chimed again.
She glanced up, expecting another familiar customer. Instead, the air itself seemed to still.
A tall man stepped in, dressed in an immaculately tailored black suit that clung to him like armor. His presence was… wrong for her shop. Too sharp, too commanding, like a blade laid across velvet. His eyes, dark and unyielding, swept the room before landing on her.
Elena’s hands froze around the bouquet.
“Good morning,” she managed her voice steady though her heartbeat stumbled. “Can I help you find something?”
He didn’t answer right away. He simply studied her, as if he had walked in not for flowers, but for her. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, smooth, with an edge that made her skin prickle.
“Roses.”
She cleared her throat. “What color?”
His lips curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Red. Always red.”
As she turned to gather them, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched not as a customer studies a florist, but as a predator studies prey. The silence pressed heavy, broken only by the soft snip of her scissors.
When she finally handed him the bouquet, his fingers brushed hers. A chill rushed through her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Elena,” she said cautiously.
He repeated it slowly, tasting it, like he wanted to remember the way it felt on his tongue. Then he laid down more money than the bouquet was worth far more and turned toward the door.
Just before stepping out, he looked back at her with those unreadable eyes.
“I’ll be back.”
The bell chimed again as the door shut, but Elena didn’t move. She stood frozen in the middle of her flower shop, surrounded by blooms yet for the first time, the air smelled faintly of danger.
The morning light spilled through the windows of Bloom & Grace, turning the petals in the display vase into fragments of stained glass. Elena let out a breath, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she arranged fresh lilies near the counter. The delicate scent of jasmine clung to her fingers.
The bell above the door rang, and her heart leapt instinctively—until she turned and saw him.
Not him.
Daniel.
Daniel.
But that illusion shattered as the bell chimed again.
Elena turned. Her fiancé stepped into the shop, his easy smile immediately easing her shoulders. He wore a navy suit, his tie loosened as if he had left an important meeting just to see her.
“There you are, my busy bride,” he teased, leaning over the counter to brush a kiss against her cheek. “I thought I’d steal a moment before the world steals me again.”
Elena smiled softly, warmth unfurling in her chest. “You’re supposed to let me spoil you with flowers, not the other way around.”
He chuckled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “Who said I came empty-handed?”
Inside lay a slender chain of gold with a single pearl, smooth and luminous.
“Daniel…” Her voice faltered.
“For you,” he said gently, reaching to clasp it around her neck. “A reminder of what’s coming. Two weeks, Elena. Then you’re mine forever.”
Her heart fluttered at his words. She touched the pearl, its coolness resting just above her collarbone. For a fleeting moment, all was as it should be safe, sweet, certain.
And froze.
The man in black stepped inside, filling the shop with his presence the way shadows filled an empty room. His dark gaze slid from the flowers to her, lingering on the new pearl at her throat.
“Beautiful,” he said, voice low, deliberate.
Daniel straightened, his polite smile faltering. “Can I help you?”
The stranger didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed locked on Elena.
“I told you I’d be back.”
Her fingers gripped the counter. “You”
“Roses,” Adrian said smoothly, his lips curving. “Red, of course.”
Daniel glanced between them, a flicker of something sharp crossing his face. He stepped
closer to Elena, placing a hand at the small of her back. “Elena, who is this?”
She opened her mouth, but Adrian spoke first.
“A customer,” he murmured, though the way he said it felt like a lie dressed as truth. “One who knows quality when he sees it.”
Elena’s pulse raced. She wrapped the roses in silence, her hands steady though her chest wasn’t. When she finally handed them over, Adrian’s fingers brushed hers again—intentionally, unhurried.
This time, she didn’t pull away fast enough.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
Adrian laid down too much money, just as before, and with that faint, dangerous smile, he whispered, “Until next time, Elena.”
The bell chimed as he left, but his presence lingered, heavier than perfume.
Daniel frowned at the door. “Strange man,” he muttered, tightening his arm around her
waist. “Stay away from him.”
Elena nodded, but her gaze drifted to the roses in Adrian’s hand as he disappeared into the city.
For the first time, the petals in her shop didn’t feel like protection.
They felt like warning.
Elena pov“You’re late,” Rosa said, folding her arms as Elena locked up the flower stall.“I know. I’m sorry.”“You say that every Thursday.”Elena smiled faintly. “One day it’ll stop being true.”Rosa snorted. “You always say that too.”Mateo hovered near the counter, pretending not to listen. Elena noticed anyway.“Mamá,” he said, too casually, “can I walk ahead?”“No.”“I’m not a baby.”“You’re two.”He sighed dramatically. “Almost three.”Rosa chuckled. “He gets that seriousness from you.”Elena’s fingers tightened around the keys. No, she thought. He gets it from his father.They stepped out into the street together. Traffic hummed. Music spilled from an open window somewhere above them.Rosa leaned closer. “You’ve been distracted lately.”“I’m always distracted.”“This is different,” Rosa said quietly. “You look like you’re listening for footsteps that aren’t there.”Elena stopped walking.“Has someone been bothering you?” Rosa asked.“No,” Elena said too fast. “No one.”Mateo l
ADRIAN'S POVAdrian had learned many things in the years Elena was gone.He had learned how silence could rot a man from the inside.How power meant nothing when there was no one left to witness it.How obsession, when starved, sharpened into something almost holy.The photograph lay on his desk, its edges already worn from how often he had touched it.Elena stood behind a stall overflowing with flowers, her hair tied back loosely, her face thinner but unmistakable. Beside her stood a boy serious-eyed, dark-haired, his posture alert in a way no child’s should be.Adrian stared at the child the longest.“That’s my son,” he said quietly.No one contradicted him.“You’re certain?” Luca asked, cautious. “We’ve been wrong before.”Adrian’s mouth curved faintly. “I’ve never been wrong about blood.”He stood, shrugging into his coat. “How exposed is she?”“Not very,” Luca replied. “No ties to local crime. Cash transactions. A quiet life.”Adrian paused. That, more than anything, confirmed it
Medellín smelled nothing like home.It smelled of rain-soaked concrete, ripe fruit, gasoline, and heat thick, clinging, relentless. Elena learned that scent in her bones the same way she learned fear: slowly, painfully, and without choice.She adjusted the umbrella above her flower stall as rain drummed against the plastic canopy.“Mamá,” Mateo said, tugging at her skirt. “You said yellow ones sell better when it rains.”Elena looked down at her son and smiled, soft but tired. “You’re right. Help me move them to the front.”Mateo crouched, his small hands careful as he rearranged the bouquets. He was six now—too observant, too serious, with eyes far older than his years.Eyes that mirrored Adrian’s.She swallowed the thought before it could cut deeper.A woman stopped at the stall, studying the flowers. “How much for the orchids?”“Ten thousand pesos,” Elena replied in Spanish, her accent still faint but pa
Elena left in the hour before dawn, when even monsters slept.The mansion was quiet in a way that felt unnatural, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. She stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, her small bag resting at her feet, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain it would wake him.Adrian.She turned slowly, her eyes drifting to the bedroom doorway.He lay sprawled across the bed, dark hair falling into his eyes, one arm flung over the empty side where she had slept only hours before. Even in sleep, he looked dangerous—too still, too controlled, like a weapon set down but never disarmed.Elena swallowed.“If I stay,” she whispered to herself, “I will disappear.”Her fingers trembled as she reached for the door handle. Memories assaulted her—his voice murmuring her name in the dark, the way his gaze stripped her bare, the way protection felt indistinguishable from possession.She loved him.That was the cruelest truth of all.But love should not feel li
It happened on a night when the weight of silence grew too heavy.Adrian had come from a meeting, his shirt still smelling faintly of smoke and whiskey. He found Elena in the greenhouse, her hands buried in soil, moonlight catching the curve of her face.“You should be asleep,” he murmured, stepping into the room.“I couldn’t.” Her voice was quiet, steady, but her heart was a storm.For a long moment, they simply looked at one another. The distance between them burned hotter than any touch.When he reached for her, she didn’t move away. Not this time.His hand slid into her hair, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that stole her breath. She should have pushed him back. She should have remembered her plan. Instead, her body betrayed her, pressing closer, craving him with the same desperation she feared.Clothes fell, whispered gasps filling the air. His dominance was unrelenting pinning her against the glass, forcing her to feel every inch of his possession. But woven into the dange
Adrian’s hand closed over Elena’s wrist as he led her down the marble corridor. His grip wasn’t harsh, but unyielding a man used to command, not request.“Where are we going?” she asked, voice clipped with nerves.His smile was faint, dry. “A meeting. You’ll sit beside me.”Her steps faltered. “Why?”“Because they need to see you,” he said simply. “They need to see that you’re mine.”The words curled around her like a chain. She swallowed hard but didn’t fight. She couldn’t not now, not when she was still weaving her web of manipulation. Still, dread coiled in her chest as they entered the grand dining hall.Men waited at the long table, their eyes sharp, calculating. The air smelled of cigar smoke and fear. Adrian guided her to the seat at his right, laying a hand briefly at her back a gesture of ownership, of dominance.The meeting began, business spoken in clipped tones about shipments, territories, betrayals. Elena sat silently, hands clenched in her lap. She told herself to sta







