CHAPTER 2

Elena woke up with the faint scent of roses lingering in her sheets, a stark contrast to the unsettling dreams that had haunted her sleep. The face of the man from the alleyway, his sharp gaze, his haunting familiarity—kept flashing in her mind. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, her thoughts caught between fear and an inexplicable pull toward him.

Trying to shake off the lingering unease, she stretched and glanced at the clock, seeing that she woke up early, she decided to do little stretches to relieve her tensed muscles before freshening up. The morning light spilled through the curtains, casting a golden hue over her small but cozy bedroom as she starts exercising. With a breathy sigh— huffing and puffing, she did the last stretch.

After freshening up, Elena came up with an internal reflection that today was just like any other day at the flower shop. She resolved not to let the previous night's events disrupt her day as she made her way out of her room.

On getting downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee assaulted her nose. Her younger brother, Rafael, was already seated at the breakfast table, scrolling through his phone while munching on a toast. He looked up as she entered the kitchen, his usual playful smirk in place.

"You look like you barely slept," he remarked, taking another bite. "Bad dreams?"

Elena grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee. "Something like that."

Rafael studied her for a moment before setting his phone down. "Is this about your late-night delivery?"

Elena's grip on the mug tightened, a silent testament to her rising tension. She had lied to him about the order last night but she stil had not delivered that special perfume. What she hadn't mentioned was the crime scene and the man who had called her name. And the reason for not confiding in her brother was beyond her.

"It was nothing," she lied, taking a sip of her coffee. "Just a long night."

Rafael's brows furrowed. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

She sighed, setting her mug down with bang. "It was weird, okay? I ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was… something going on. A fight. Or worse."

His expression grew serious. "Did anyone see you?"

Elena hesitated. "I don't think so."

The image of those piercing eyes flashed through her mind. He had seen her and he had even called her name.

"Elena."

Her stomach caved in, at the recollection of how her name sounded, rolling off his tongue smoothly like as if it was honeyed. She couldn't tell Rafael that part. Something in her gut told her it was better left unsaid.

"Well, just be careful," Rafael said, standing and ruffling her hair as he walked past. "You've got that look on your face like you're overthinking again. Whatever happened, it's over. You're safe."

Elena forced a smile, watching him grab his bag and head out the door. If only she could believe that.

---

Across the City, Lorenzo DeLuca stood by the window of his penthouse suite, staring out at the sprawling cityscape. His fingers toyed with a small glass vial containing a single drop of perfume—a scent so familiar, it sent a wave of nostalgia crashing over him, taking him back to that time where everything was peaceful for him and all he wanted and had made his priority was the little girl who had always crawled through holes just to give the new scent she had made. Looking at the tiny drop in the vial, Lorenzo thought. "This was the last he had received before the chaos and then, all went silent"

He had spent the night trying to shake off the shock of seeing her. Elena, his only desire was here, alive, breathing, standing mere feet away from him last night. But she had looked at him with fear and with unfamiliarity.

She didn't seem to have remembered him. Or was that facade in other to escape him? His grip on the vial tightened but not still enough to break the glass, as he thought of the possibility. That was unacceptable.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he said, his voice cold.

Matteo, one of his trusted men, stepped inside. "We looked into the girl, boss. Elena Delacroix. Twenty-four years old. She runs her family's florist shop. No criminal record, nothing suspicious—at least, at least not on the surface."

Lorenzo turned, his dark gaze locking onto Matteo. "And her family?"

Matteo shifted uncomfortably. "That's where things get interesting. The Delacroix family used to be part of the old mafia world. Before your father took over the DeLuca empire, her father and uncles were… in deep. But after the deaths of their first two sons, they withdrew completely. Went meek. Now, they're just florists."

Lorenzo's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Florists who know how to make poisons."

Matteo nodded. "Exactly. Their knowledge of flowers isn't just for decoration. It's history, a Legacy. And that perfume she delivered last night? It wasn't just any fragrance. It had traces of nightshade."

Lorenzo's jaw clenched. "She doesn't belong in this world anymore. But she was there last night. That means something." even if it doesn't, it meant something to him who had been living with his thirst for her all this while, alone. Seeing her is like seeing an oasis.

"Do you want us to bring her in?" Matteo asked.

Lorenzo took a slow breath, rolling the vial between his fingers. "No," he said after a moment. "Not yet, but I want her watched. Every move of hers, he must be aware."

Matteo nodded and left the room.

Lorenzo turned back to the window, his mind a storm of thoughts. She had forgotten him, but he hadn't forgotten her. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let her slip away this time.

---

Later that day in the florist shop, Elena tried to focus on arranging a fresh bouquet of lilies, her mind racing with unease and unanswered questions. Despite the uneventful morning, Elena couldn't shake the unsettling feeling of being watched, a sensation that lingered as she arranged the lilies. Every time a customer enters, she found herself glancing at the door a second longer, her heart skipping at the thought of the mysterious man reappearing.

The bell above the door chimed, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned, ready with her usual greeting and smile, but the words caught in her throat.

There he was, the one who had tormented her in her sleep and haunted her thoughts, dressed in a tailored black suit that was like a second skin on him. He stepped inside like he was the owner and with the kind of presence that commanded attention. His dark eyes scanned the shop before finally landing on her.

"Hello, Elena," he said smoothly, his voice sending a shiver down her spine to her very core.

She gripped the counter behind her, her knuckles almost turning white. "How do you know my name?"

His lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Let's just say… I never forget a face."

A palpable tension enveloped the shop, as if the very air held its breath. Elena swallowed hard, her heart pounding. As he stepped closer, the scent of his cologne—dark and intoxicating—filled the air, drowning out the sweetness of the flowers. Something told her that from this moment on, nothing in her life would ever be the same again.