Thorns beneath the roses

The following week was a whirlwind. Lorenzo had officially made himself a permanent fixture in my shop. Much to my chagrin, he commandeered a corner of the back room, turning it into what he smugly referred to as his "operational hub." I referred to it as my nightmare.

I knew I needed help—both for the shop and to ensure Lorenzo didn't single-handedly remodel my entire life. But his methods were exhausting. He didn't seem to understand that I couldn't pivot from rustic charm to corporate efficiency overnight.

"Lila, you're still using a paper log for inventory," Lorenzo said one morning, his voice sharp with disbelief. "Do you know how much time you're wasting? A digital system will cut your management hours in half."

"It works for me," I replied, attempting to arrange a bouquet of peonies and freesia. "And if you keep distracting me, I'm going to waste another hour fixing this arrangement."

"You're resistant to change," he muttered, his tone just shy of condescending. "That's going to be your downfall."

I set the bouquet down, leveling him with a glare. "And you're resistant to personality. That's going to be yours."

For a split second, his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. But then he shook his head, his usual scowl returning. "This isn't about personality. It's about progress."

By Thursday, I was nearing my breaking point. Between Lorenzo's relentless drive for perfection and the growing number of orders flooding in for autumn weddings, I felt like I was running on fumes.

Still, I couldn't deny that some of Lorenzo's ideas were starting to take root. With his help, I'd streamlined a few processes, making it easier to manage the chaos. But every small success came with an air of smug satisfaction from Lorenzo that made me want to throw a vase at him.

"You need more people," he reminded me for the hundredth time that week.

"I'm working on it," I replied through gritted teeth.

"Work faster," he shot back, his tone clipped. "If you don't have a second pair of hands here by next week, you're going to burn out."

"I'm not hiring just anyone," I said. "This shop is personal to me. It has to be someone who understands that."

Lorenzo sighed, crossing his arms. "You're looking for perfection, but what you need is reliability. Find someone who can handle the basics and let them take that weight off your shoulders."

I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right. My stubbornness had always been my Achilles' heel.

That afternoon, the shop bell jingled, signaling the arrival of a new customer. I glanced up from my workstation, expecting another bride-to-be or an elderly couple looking for an anniversary bouquet.

Instead, a young woman in her early twenties walked in, her eyes wide with wonder. She had curly red hair that tumbled over her shoulders and a vibrant energy that instantly filled the room.

"Hi!" she said brightly, approaching the counter. "Are you hiring?"

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow from his corner, clearly amused by the timing.

I hesitated, glancing at the girl's hopeful expression. "Uh, yes, actually. Do you have any experience working with flowers?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "But I love plants, and I'm a quick learner. Plus, I'm great with people."

I glanced at Lorenzo, who was now watching the exchange like it was his favorite soap opera.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Piper," she replied, extending a hand.

I shook it, smiling despite myself. "Alright, Piper. Let's see what you've got."

Over the next few days, Piper proved to be exactly what the shop needed. She wasn't just reliable—she was enthusiastic, creative, and had an uncanny ability to connect with customers.

Even Lorenzo seemed impressed, though he'd never admit it outright.

"She has potential," he said one evening as we closed up the shop.

"High praise coming from you," I teased.

"Don't let it go to your head," he replied, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As the shop began to find its rhythm again, I found myself oddly grateful for Lorenzo's presence. He was still infuriating, but he pushed me to think bigger, to dream beyond the confines of my small shop.

One evening, after Piper had gone home and the shop was quiet, Lorenzo and I sat at the consultation table, poring over a new marketing strategy he'd devised.

"This could really work," I said, scanning the plans.

"Of course it will work," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "You just have to commit to it."

I glanced up at him, studying his face in the soft glow of the desk lamp. For all his arrogance and intensity, there was a certain vulnerability in his eyes—an unspoken pressure he carried with him everywhere he went.

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

He frowned. "Doing what?"

"Helping me," I said. "This isn't your world. You don't need to be here."

Lorenzo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Maybe I see something in this shop. Something worth investing in."

"Is that all it is?" I pressed, unable to stop myself. "An investment?"

His gaze softened, just for a moment. "Not everything is about money, Lila."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

The following day, I woke up feeling lighter than I had in weeks. The shop was thriving, thanks to Piper's help and Lorenzo's relentless drive. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was finally on the right track.

But as the day unfolded, that sense of calm began to unravel.

It started with a phone call.

"Ms. Summers?" a deep, unfamiliar voice said on the other end of the line. "This is James Carter, legal counsel for Hayes Enterprises."

My stomach sank. "Is something wrong?"

"There's been a development regarding the property your shop is located on," he said, his tone professional but cold. "We need to discuss your lease agreement."

Panic surged through me as he explained the situation. Apparently, the building owner was in negotiations to sell the property, and Hayes Enterprises was one of the potential buyers.

By the time I hung up, my hands were shaking.

When Lorenzo arrived at the shop that afternoon, I was waiting for him, my arms crossed and my heart pounding.

"Care to explain this?" I demanded, holding up the notice I'd received about the potential sale.

Lorenzo's expression darkened as he read the document. "I had no idea this was happening," he said, his voice firm.

"Really?" I shot back, my voice trembling with anger. "Because it feels like I'm being blindsided by your company yet again."

"This has nothing to do with me," he said, meeting my gaze. "I'm not involved in this deal."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" I asked, my frustration boiling over. "You've been here for weeks, pushing me to change everything about my shop, and now I find out your company might take the building out from under me?"

Lorenzo took a step closer, his expression serious. "Lila, listen to me. I didn't know about this. But I'll find out who's behind it, and I'll make sure you're protected."

I wanted to believe him, but the betrayal I felt was overwhelming.

"I don't need your protection," I said, my voice cold. "I just need you to stay out of my life."

The days that followed were tense and uncertain. Lorenzo kept his distance, and for the first time since he'd entered my life, I found myself missing his presence.

But I couldn't afford to dwell on those feelings. I had a shop to protect.

With Piper's help, I began reaching out to the local community, rallying support for the shop. If Hayes Enterprises wanted a fight, they were going to get one.

When Lorenzo finally returned to the shop, it was late one evening, just as I was closing up.

"I have news," he said, his tone grim.

I crossed my arms, wary. "What kind of news?"

"I spoke to the board," he said. "The deal isn't finalized yet, but they're pushing for it."

My heart sank. "So that's it? They're going to buy the building and kick me out?"

"Not if I can help it," Lorenzo said, his voice fierce.

"Why do you care?" I asked, my frustration bubbling over. "Why are you even here?"

Lorenzo hesitated, his gaze locking onto mine. For a moment, he seemed almost... vulnerable.

"Because this shop matters to you," he said quietly. "And you matter to me."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, leaving me speechless.

For the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of hope. Lorenzo was still a mystery, but his determination to help me was undeniable.

As we stood there in the quiet shop, surrounded by the soft scent of flowers, I realized that maybe—just maybe—this fight wasn't mine alone.

Maybe, together, we could find a way to save the shop.