CHAPTER 14

The next morning, Neno sent the instructions and shop key. Emily wore a soft floral blouse and cream trousers. She tied her hair back neatly and walked with quiet determination toward the small, charming flower shop tucked in a quiet corner of the city.

Inside, the scent of lavender and roses welcomed her.

She prepped the vase, a delicate arrangement of ivory peonies and soft baby's breath. Around noon, a sharply dressed couple arrived. The woman gave a polite smile and paid in cash.

As they turned to leave, Emily prepared to close the shop—until the bell chimed again.

A tall man entered, sunglasses low on his nose.

"Good afternoon," she greeted him. "Looking for something specific?"

He walked slowly, then stopped by the roses. "Something elegant."

She offered a gentle smile. "Try these—red tulips mixed with orchids. They say elegance and passion."

He nodded, approving. But as she handed the flowers to him, his fingers lingered.

Too long.

She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

"Let go," she said firmly.

"Pretty hands," he smirked. "Pretty woman, too."

Emily's heart raced. She looked around. No one was nearby.

"Please let go," she repeated.

Instead, he leaned closer.

But suddenly—

"Let her go," a cold voice boomed.

The man was yanked back, nearly stumbling. Another man—taller, broader, in a charcoal coat—stood between them. His expression was unreadable, his presence dominant.

The harasser tried to push back. "Who the hell are you—?"

The stranger didn't flinch. He slapped him—sharp and brutal.

"Eliot," he barked.

A second man emerged from behind him, swiftly grabbing the harasser by the collar and dragging him out without a word.

Emily stood frozen, heart pounding. Then… she looked up at the man who had saved her.

And gasped.

His face. Those eyes. There was something familiar.

Without thinking, she reached out and hugged him. For a second, he stiffened… then relaxed. Something stirred in him. A warmth. A pull he hadn't felt in years.

His heartbeat quickened.

Emily pulled back, flustered. "I—I'm sorry. I just… thank you."

He looked at her for a long, silent moment. His voice, low and calm, replied, "It's alright."

She tilted her head. "Have we met before?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "Maybe in another life."

She gave a small laugh. "Can I give you something? For the trouble?"

He didn't respond at first. Then he pointed.

"The rose."

She handed it to him. "No charge."

He tried to pay, but she refused. He looked down at the flower, then at her.

Eliot returned. "Sir, the meeting…"

Zayn gave her one last look before turning away. In the car, he held the rose delicately, staring at it.

"She didn't tell me her name," he muttered.

Eliot glanced at him. "Are you okay, sir?"

Zayn didn't answer. He took the rose into the office with him, placed it carefully in a glass vase, and stared at it longer than he would admit.