Seeds of trust

The next morning, I found myself staring at my reflection in the mirror, trying to figure out what exactly I was feeling. Was it excitement? Anxiety? Maybe both, tangled together like the roots of an overgrown plant.

Lorenzo Hayes had a way of getting under my skin. He was persistent, confident, and maddeningly right about more things than I cared to admit. Yesterday had been illuminating—not just because of his suggestions for the shop, but because of the small glimpses I'd caught of the man beneath the icy exterior.

But that didn't mean I trusted him.

Not yet.

By the time I arrived at Petals & Posies, Lorenzo was already waiting outside, his sleek black car parked along the curb. He stood leaning against the door, scrolling through his phone, looking every bit the polished businessman he was.

"You're early," I said as I unlocked the door, the jingle of the bell greeting us as we stepped inside.

"I like to get a head start," he replied, following me in. "And besides, I thought we could discuss strategy before the customers start coming in."

I set my bag down behind the counter and crossed my arms, giving him a pointed look. "Strategy? Lorenzo, this is a flower shop, not a Fortune 500 company."

"That doesn't mean it can't benefit from a little planning," he said smoothly. "Every business needs a vision, Lila. A direction. Otherwise, you're just treading water."

I hated that his words resonated with me.

"Fine," I said, gesturing toward the small table in the back room where I usually held consultations. "Let's talk strategy."

Lorenzo sat across from me, his posture impossibly straight as he pulled out a sleek tablet from his bag. He tapped a few buttons, and suddenly the screen was filled with graphs, charts, and market analysis that looked way too intense for a humble flower shop.

"First," he began, "we need to talk about your customer base. Right now, you're serving primarily locals—people who come in for small occasions like birthdays or anniversaries. That's fine, but it's limiting your growth potential."

I frowned. "What's wrong with serving locals? They're loyal, and they keep the shop going."

"Nothing's wrong with it," he said. "But there's a whole market you're not reaching. Corporate clients, for example. Businesses are always in need of flowers—for lobbies, events, client gifts. Tapping into that market could significantly increase your revenue."

I mulled over his words. He wasn't wrong—corporate clients did spend big. But the idea of catering to faceless companies instead of individuals made my stomach twist.

"And how do you suggest I reach these so-called corporate clients?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

Lorenzo smirked, clearly anticipating my skepticism. "That's where networking comes in. I have contacts—CEOs, managers, event planners. I can make introductions, get your name out there. Once they see the quality of your work, they'll be lining up to place orders."

I leaned back in my chair, studying him carefully. "So, let me get this straight. You're offering to use your connections to help me expand my business?"

"That's the gist of it," he said, his gray eyes steady.

"And what do you get out of it?"

Lorenzo's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "A return on my investment. If your business grows, so does my stake in it. But more than that..." He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. "I like seeing potential realized. It's... satisfying."

His admission caught me off guard. For a moment, I saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes—something that made me wonder if there was more to Lorenzo Hayes than ambition and sharp suits.

"Alright," I said finally. "I'll consider it. But I'm not making any promises."

"That's all I ask," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind.

True to his word, Lorenzo spent the morning introducing me to the concept of corporate accounts. He walked me through potential pricing structures, delivery logistics, and even branding ideas. At first, it was overwhelming—there was so much to consider, so many details I hadn't thought of.

But Lorenzo had a way of breaking things down, of making the impossible seem achievable.

By the time noon rolled around, I found myself feeling cautiously optimistic.

"Alright," I said, wiping my hands on my apron after finishing an arrangement for a regular customer. "I'll admit it—you might actually be good at this."

Lorenzo looked up from his tablet, one eyebrow raised. "Was that a compliment, Miss Summers?"

"Don't let it go to your head," I shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on my lips.

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that caught me off guard.

As the afternoon sun streamed through the shop windows, we found ourselves working side by side on a last-minute order for an engagement party.

"Hand me the peonies," I said, glancing over at Lorenzo, who was carefully sorting through the flowers.

"These?" he asked, holding up a bunch of pale pink blooms.

"Yep. And the eucalyptus, too."

He handed them over, watching as I arranged them with practiced ease.

"You make it look effortless," he said after a moment.

I glanced at him, surprised by the compliment. "It's not. It takes years of practice to get it right."

"I can see that," he said, his tone thoughtful. "There's something... calming about it. The precision, the creativity. It's a nice change of pace."

"From what? Hostile takeovers and boardroom battles?"

His lips quirked into a wry smile. "Something like that."

For a moment, we worked in companionable silence, the only sounds the rustle of petals and the soft hum of the radio.

By the time the engagement arrangement was finished, the shop was quiet. The last customer had left, and the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting golden light across the room.

"You did good today," I said, surprising even myself with the admission.

Lorenzo looked at me, his expression unreadable. "So did you."

There was a pause, a moment where the air between us seemed charged with something unspoken.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked softly.

His brow furrowed. "Doing what?"

"Helping me. Spending your time in a flower shop when you could be... I don't know, taking over the world."

Lorenzo's gaze softened, and for a moment, he looked almost... vulnerable.

"Because I believe in you," he said simply. "And because sometimes, the best investments aren't just about money. They're about people."

His words left me speechless.

As he gathered his things to leave, I found myself watching him, wondering if maybe—just maybe—Lorenzo Hayes wasn't the cold, calculating businessman I'd thought he was.

Maybe he was something more.