The collision

I'd always believed that flowers could solve almost any problem. A broken heart? A bouquet of lilies and roses. New beginnings? Sunflowers and daisies. Even on a dreary Monday morning, surrounded by the gentle hum of the city waking up, the smell of freshly cut blooms in my shop felt like magic. It was a place where the chaos of the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the quiet comfort of petals and leaves, soothing everything they touched.

What I hadn't accounted for was him.

It started with the door. Or rather, the aggressive way it flew open, slamming into the tiny bell that dangled from the frame. I jumped, nearly dropping a vase of tulips I'd been arranging on the counter. The bell gave a sharp jingle, its ring cutting through the air like an alarm. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to face the intruder.

He was tall, probably over six feet, and broad-shouldered, as though someone had taken the idea of a man and made it into a sculptural masterpiece. His dark hair was swept back neatly, but there was a touch of wildness to it, like it had been tamed just enough to keep him looking put together without losing that edge. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and his eyes... those eyes. Cold, gray, and piercing, like steel. I instantly felt small.

But what really hit me was the scowl. It was the kind of expression that could wilt my poor daisies on sight. He stepped into the shop, each stride exuding authority, power, and an overwhelming sense of don't touch me.

Behind him, a woman huffed as she hurried inside, muttering apologies under her breath. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Hayes. This was my mistake."

My mind raced. Mr. Hayes? The name sounded vaguely familiar. My shop wasn't exactly in the high-end part of the city, but I knew enough to recognize the name of one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the business world. Lorenzo Hayes, CEO of Hayes Enterprises. The guy had his fingers in everything—real estate, tech, investments. The whole city seemed to revolve around his every move.

I swallowed, trying to shake the sense of panic that crept up my spine. This was just a mix-up. He was here for something else. Not for me.

"Your mistake?" Lorenzo's voice cut through my thoughts, cool and dismissive. "You've brought me to a flower shop. I fail to see how this is a meeting."

The tension in the air could've been cut with a knife.

Before I could speak, I forced a smile, trying to hide the unease gnawing at my stomach. "Well, this is definitely a flower shop, not a conference room." I gestured to the rows of potted plants and glass vases, as if that would clear everything up.

His eyes shifted to me, evaluating, calculating. "Clearly."

His tone was so cold that I almost felt the temperature drop. This wasn't just an awkward business meeting gone wrong; it felt like a collision of two worlds—one grounded in the soft colors of flowers and the other in the harshness of corporate steel.

Elaine, his assistant or whatever she was, seemed flustered. "Lila Summers, right? Owner of Petals & Posies? I—I'm so sorry for the confusion. I scheduled this location for a meeting by mistake. I'll reschedule—"

"No need," Lorenzo interrupted, his voice firm. His eyes never left me. "We're here now. Let's just get this over with."

My brows furrowed. "Excuse me?" I couldn't help but ask, my voice coming out a little more sharp than I intended. "I don't know who you think you're dealing with, but I don't think your business is anything I want to get involved with."

His lip curled into something that resembled a smirk, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "And yet, here we are."

I couldn't stand the way he looked at me, like I was an inconvenience, like I wasn't worth the time. I squared my shoulders, determined not to be intimidated by the cold billionaire who'd just walked into my life like a storm. "If you're not interested in flowers, then you're wasting my time."

Elaine opened her mouth to say something, but Lorenzo raised a hand, cutting her off. "Let's talk business."

I blinked. Business? "You think you can talk business in my shop?"

"I think you've misunderstood. I'm not here for a bouquet." He paused, his eyes narrowing as if weighing every word. "I'm looking into investment opportunities in this area, and your shop... well, it's in the right location."

Investment? That stopped me cold. "This shop is not for sale. I don't care how much money you have, I'm not selling out."

"Who said anything about selling?" He arched a brow, as if I'd said something utterly foolish. "You're in the business of selling things. Flowers, I presume?"

"I sell flowers, not my soul," I shot back.

His eyes flicked over me with something resembling amusement, but it was fleeting. "I'm not here to buy your soul. I'm here for... other opportunities."

"Well, I'm not interested in whatever other opportunities you're offering." I didn't mean to snap, but something about his whole attitude, his assumption that everything could be bought, set me on edge.

Elaine stepped in again, flustered. "Maybe we should just move to the back, where we can sit and—"

"Yes. Let's," Lorenzo interrupted, his voice cutting through the conversation like a sharp blade.

I took a deep breath. The last thing I wanted was to give him more of my time, but I didn't want to seem unprofessional. "Fine. Follow me."

I led them through the shop, past the walls lined with vases, the shelves of dried lavender and sage, the soft hum of the music playing in the background. The back room, where I normally held consultations for weddings, was decorated with soft fabric drapes, a small table for meetings, and a few cozy chairs. I set my hands on the back of one of the chairs and gestured for them to sit.

Lorenzo, of course, didn't seem to care for the softness of the room. He took a seat with an air of irritation, his posture so rigid it was almost like he was still in a boardroom, surrounded by men in suits. Elaine sat beside him, fumbling through her papers, clearly trying to salvage the situation.

I, on the other hand, stood with my arms crossed, watching him carefully. His eyes were calculating, but something about his expression told me that this was all a waste of time to him.

"Business?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes. "This is a flower shop, Lorenzo Hayes. The only thing I'm selling here is beauty."

He didn't flinch. "Beauty is subjective."

"I think you're forgetting one thing," I said, leaning forward. "These flowers are the only thing in this room that are real. And if you can't appreciate that, then there's nothing we need to talk about."

There was a long, pregnant pause. His gray eyes held mine for a moment longer than necessary. Then, as if he were dismissing the very idea of me, he stood up.

"Fine," he said, his voice colder than ever. "I'll take the flowers, but not because you convinced me. Consider this a formality."

He turned on his heel, his assistant trailing after him, and without a single glance back, they were gone.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, feeling a strange mixture of relief and frustration. I didn't need him or his money. I had my flowers. That was enough for me.

Still, something about him lingered in the air. Like the sharp, bitter taste of a storm waiting to break. And though I didn't want to admit it, I felt the first stirrings of something else. Intrigue.