Chapter 16

Kelsey POV

"Mr Williams, your wife is going to love them."

I hand him the immaculately wrapped bundled and beautifully packaged coats with a fox trim of my own design. He takes it with considerate care before looping his fingers around the handles to bring it to his side.

"Oh, I know. There's a reason I only buy from you."

He pays and leaves a generous tip.

I thank him with a grateful smile. "And I appreciate your loyalty."

He tips his peaky hat and shuffles away from the counter, revealing the gentleman behind him in a crisp, slim-fit suit that outlines and shapes the contours of his muscular body all too well. I place my hands on the counter, waiting for him to turn around already, but he never does. His eyes review the distant tall shelves of flowers on display along with racks of other design pieces and mannequins flaunting my fabrics.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?"

"Actually, I can help you." Vance swivels around, a certain pomposity prominent in his eyes. "I'm here to donate."

On cue, another man in black walks in with a ceramic vessel in his hands with white blooms inside. I mask my surprise with an impassive look because I know exactly what they are and their value.

Vance chucks a hand at them. "I assume you know what those are?"

I distil all my despise into a single glare. "Do I?"

"The Gold of Kinabalu Orchid," he announces, and ushers the man holding them to come closer. "Which can only be found in Malaysia."

"Only in the Kinabalu National Park because they're an endangered species of the orchid flower," I gladly educate with my voice wrought with disdain. "I don't even want to know how you got them."

He shrugs flippantly. "I had them flown over."

"That's nice," I say, not holding back the harsh arch in my tone. "Why are they in my boutique? I feel like I'm complicit in a crime or something."

"It's not a crime to buy a girl flowers."

"It is," I say with an exaggerated nod. "If that girl isn't your girlfriend."

He cracks into a smile. A peculiar sight… because it transforms his face completely.

"It's my way of making amends after our unfortunate… misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" I repeat with an echo. I clap my hands once. "You invaded my house, took Avara under duress and had me manhandled in my own home. If this is your sorry attempt of an apology. I do not accept it." I look back at his minion, shooing him with my hand. "You can go."

Vance takes the vase from him and jerks his chin. The man leaves, but he stays.

"I will not apologize for ensuring the safety of my future wife."

"That isn't as romantic as you think it sounds, bud." I cross my arms obstinately. "Because the way you're going about it has crossed the psycho-boyfriend threshold. And you're not even her real boyfriend."

"Real enough," he snaps, any tint of amusement that existed withers. His face is now like granite. "You don't understand—"

"Oh, I understand. More than you know, but you can't just go behaving like a dictator and call it protection. When it's actually possession. She's not even yours and even if she was, it gives you no right to behave as you did. It's disgusting as you trying to bribe my forgiveness, instead of owning up to your error like a man and asking for it. Begging for it."

He stares back at me, thunderstruck, crystal-green eyes gleaming with surprise. I can tell by his baffled look that no one has ever had the balls to talk to him like that. I'm glad I'm the one to change that.

I turn my head so my ear can face him. "Nothing?" I ask, cupping my hand around my ear mockingly .

"Okay."

I turn away and I disappear into the room at the back. And the moment I do. He caves.

"I'm sorry," he exclaims, like he's throwing out a curse. "I was an asshole."

I expose myself to him, my arms still folded. "You damn right you were. And still are."

He drops the vase on the counter with an unimaginable attitude, glaring back at me with a look that can wilt all the flowers on display in my store.

I pull a face at him, undaunted by his death stare. "Make sure Avara knows how sorry and how much of an asshole you are."

He frees a laugh, short and scathing.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I just see why Avara never talks about her supposed best friend."

"That's because she doesn't like talking to you." I retort.

"Or perhaps you're just insufferable and she's too soft to cut you out like the tumor in her life that you are."

A hot spike of anger. I push the vase off the counter and he darts back to avoid the splash of water and flying fragments. His eyes fly back up with a wild meld of revile and fascination.

"If that wasn't clear. Get out of my boutique."

"As if I need to be told."

He marches out and slams the door behind him.

***

I walk up to the front entrance of the Du Pont townhouse. A guard posted outside the door like a sentry. He lifts a halting hand to me and I almost knock it away.

I pause. "Avara is waiting for me."

"Name?"

"Seriously?" I dismiss it. "Kelsey. And this is practically my second home."

He takes out a walkie. He holds a button whilst he speaks into it. Shortly after, it crackles to life, and he receives a curt response to let me through.

He opens the door and steps aside. I give him a mock curtsey before I pass and soon my eyes overwhelm their sockets. The devil's garden with towering cascades of black blooms are fitted inside the entryway right down to the end of the passage. I walk down, my eyes evaluating the impeccable quality, rarity and costliness of each bouquet, let alone all of them together. I saunter into the lounge to see a similar scene, every surface decked with ink-dipped flowers. 

"Kels?"

I turn around to see Luciano in the archway.

"Lucie, hey," I greet back cheerfully.

The mirth in his eyes wanes as he studies me, and a worried frown forms on his face, clearly not liking what he's seeing.

"You okay?"

I light up a smile. "With all these flowers around me. How can I not be?"

"Yeah, Vance likes to go big."

"A lot has changed around here except for you. When are you going back to your own apartment?"

"Why?" he asks defensively. "I thought you would've liked seeing more of me."

"Don't get me wrong, I love seeing that gorgeous face of yours. But I think ya'll might be suffocating her enough as it is. Security guards on top of over-protective brothers. Yikes."

"Surrounding her with people that want to protect." He places a dramatic hand on his chest. "We're such monsters."

I raise my hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"I never asked."

My smile slips off my face.

Guilt clouds his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just a touchy subject because—"

"It's cool, Luciano." I point to the archway. "I'm gonna go find Avie."

I leave the room hastily, and I make my way upstairs. I enter the bedroom without even knocking, only to see that she's not in it, but a fresh set of clothes is on the bed. Which means she's in the shower. I come inside, idling around, waiting for her to come back until something attracts my eye. I go to her nightstand and on top of it is an opened envelope addressed to Avara.

You shouldn't, says the angel on my shoulder. But you should, says the hellion on the other.

Burning curiosity demands action. I take the envelope in my grasp and I slide out the card, reading the message worth a line. No one signed off on it, but I already for a fact it wasn't Vance.

"Kels?"

Avara walks in her bedroom with nothing but a white towel wrapped around her head and body. She closes the door behind her and her eyes gesture to the envelope in my hands.

"What you got there?" she asks sweetly, whilst imploring an explanation.

"Something Vance never gave you," I say, trying to ferret out an explanation myself.

"And how can you be so sure?"

I give her a wry look, flaring a brow. "Really? He doesn't strike me as the thoughtful, romantic type. But definitely the 'thinks he can get away with anything' if he buys you something pretty and expensive, type."

She has this look on her face, like she knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"You knew," I say as not an accusation, but as a fact.

Her mouth rounds. "I don't know the details, but he said he wanted to smooth things over with you. And by that, he meant sending a peace offering, and I knew what he meant. And I told him it wouldn't work."

"Of course it wouldn't. Does he actually expect to solve all his problems by throwing money at them? Some people can't be bought... people like you. You never even wear that necklace Vance gave you."

"Because I gave it back." She takes off the towel on her head and uses it to soak out each sheet of hair. "It didn't feel right to keep it."

I also feel like there's more to the story than what she's saying.

"So, do you want to tell me who your real secret admirer is?"

She hesitates, her hair drenched, darkened waves plunge over shoulders. "Uh," she stammers.

I narrow my eyes at her, welcoming the unspoken challenge. "Do I know him? Of course I know him."

"Well," she drags out with a high pitch. "You know of him."

"What does that even mean?" An epiphany back-hands me. "No way… him. The hot, dangerous criminal that you had a steamy moment with?"

"No, it's the other one," she says sarcastically.

My face deadpans. "Okay. So I'm guessing everyone in this house assumed it was Vance?"

She nods quickly.

My head is about to explode. "I never knew things were getting that serious that he sent you a greenhouse? That's all black. I wonder if he painted all of them himself. If he did, major brownie points."

"Nothing is serious," she whispers feverishly. "I've been ignoring him these past weeks. That's why he showed up and—"

"He was here? In this room?"

She nods again. "Ah-huh. And you wouldn't believe what he called me… what he said about me… and my brothers."

I need a chair. "Right, let's start from the beginning—"

A phone call interrupts me mid-sentence. Her phone is on the edge of her bed.

"Is that him now, I wonder?"

She sends me a reproachful look before she takes her phone and answers it. "Avara Du Pont."

"Who is it?" I whisper.

Colour drains from her face and her lips part with unmasked shock.

"Who is it?"

She inhales a jagged breath. "Landen."

Landen?!

"Put it on speaker."

But she's so dazed, listening to him say whatever that my request falls on deaf ears.

She nods absently. "Yes," she agrees, like there's a gun to her head. "I think—I think that would be nice." She nods again, her face blanched. "Alright, see you then."

She hangs up, and her hand falls limp to her side.

"What?" I question, panicking. "What did he want?"

"He wants to meet. Alone."