Petals and thorns

By the time the clock struck noon the next day, I was already wishing I hadn't agreed to Lorenzo's month-long observation period. For someone who claimed to be "just here to observe," he had a remarkable talent for inserting himself into every detail of my day.

"Why do you keep those bouquets in the corner by the window?" he asked, his sharp gaze narrowing on the display.

I glanced over from the counter, where I was arranging an order of peonies. "Because the morning sun makes them look beautiful. People walking by always stop to look."

"Do you track how many of those people come inside to buy something?"

I set the peony in the vase with a little more force than necessary. "No, Lorenzo. I don't have time to lurk by the window with a clipboard."

His lips twitched, just barely. Was that amusement? "Then how do you know it works?"

"Because I've been running this shop for five years, and I know my customers. Not everything needs a spreadsheet."

He leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms. The pose was too relaxed for someone who always seemed like he was about to cut a deal with the devil. "You'd be surprised. A little data can go a long way."

I muttered something under my breath about spreadsheets not being able to smell roses and focused on my work.

*****

The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up to see a familiar face.

"Lila!" Marion, one of my favorite regulars, smiled brightly as she stepped inside. Marion was in her late sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair that she always wore in an elegant bun. She came in every Friday to buy a bouquet for her late husband's grave, but today was an unexpected treat.

"Hi, Marion! You're early this week." I smiled back at her, already reaching for the lilies I knew she loved.

"Oh, it's not for Charles today," she said, waving her hand. "I'm hosting a garden tea for my book club tomorrow. Thought I'd brighten up the table."

"Lovely idea. Let me put something together for you."

As I worked, Lorenzo hovered nearby. I ignored him as best as I could, but I could feel his eyes on me.

"Lila always puts together the most stunning arrangements," Marion said, her voice warm as she watched me work. "You're in the right hands, young man."

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "I'm not here for flowers."

"Oh?" Marion tilted her head. "Then what brings you to our Lila's little oasis?"

I froze, half-expecting him to reply with something cold and dismissive, but he surprised me.

"I'm... evaluating the shop's potential," he said, his tone measured.

Marion gave a thoughtful nod. "Hmm. Well, I hope you're treating her with care. Lila's put her heart into this place, you know."

His eyes flicked to me, something unreadable in his gaze. "So I've noticed."

*****

After Marion left, the shop fell quiet again, save for the hum of the radio playing softly in the background. Lorenzo was sitting at the small consultation table in the corner, his notebook open and pen poised.

"Let me guess," I said, crossing my arms as I walked over. "You're going to tell me I need to track customer demographics and start upselling tea to go with the flowers?"

"Not a bad idea," he said without looking up.

I rolled my eyes. "What now, Lorenzo?"

He set the pen down and met my gaze, his expression serious. "We need to talk about your finances."

"My finances are fine."

"Are they?" He raised an eyebrow. "How much revenue did you generate last quarter?"

"Enough to keep the lights on," I said defensively.

"And how much are you reinvesting in growth?"

I frowned. "Why are you so obsessed with growth? Not everything has to get bigger. Sometimes staying small is enough."

"For how long?" His voice was calm but firm. "The market's changing, Lila. Chain stores are expanding, online florists are offering same-day delivery, and your lease is up in six months. Can you honestly say you'll still be thriving in a year if nothing changes?"

His words hit harder than I wanted to admit. He wasn't wrong—competition was getting fiercer, and I'd been dreading the lease renewal ever since my landlord hinted at raising the rent. But this was my shop, my dream, and I wasn't about to let some billionaire waltz in and tell me I couldn't make it on my own.

"I'll figure it out," I said, my voice tighter than I intended.

"Or," he said, leaning forward slightly, "you could let me help."

I shook my head. "Not everything has a price tag, Lorenzo."

"Everything has value," he countered. "Even beauty. Especially beauty."

His words hung in the air, heavier than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, but the look in his eyes stopped me. For the first time, I saw something beyond the cold, calculating businessman. There was a flicker of sincerity there, something raw and unguarded.

It made me uncomfortable.

"I need to finish these orders," I said abruptly, turning away.

*****

By the time the afternoon rush hit, I'd almost managed to put Lorenzo out of my mind. But as I worked through the flurry of customers, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was still watching me, still analyzing every detail of my little world.

I hated it.

More than that, I hated the way he made me question everything. Was my shop really as stable as I thought? Was I clinging too tightly to my way of doing things, refusing to adapt because I was afraid of change?

And why did his opinion matter to me in the first place?

"Do you ever take a break?" Lorenzo's voice cut through my thoughts, startling me.

I glanced up to see him standing by the counter, his arms crossed.

"Do you?" I shot back.

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Touché. But seriously, Lila. You've been going nonstop since I got here. You can't run a business if you burn yourself out."

I sighed, leaning against the counter. "Is this another one of your lectures?"

"Consider it advice."

"I'm fine," I said, brushing him off.

"You're stubborn," he corrected.

"And you're annoying," I countered.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us crackling with tension. I didn't know whether I wanted to throttle him or laugh.

*****

By the time evening rolled around, the shop was finally quiet again. Lorenzo had stayed the entire day, much to my annoyance, and yet... it hadn't been all bad.

"Do you ever stop working?" I asked as I wiped down the counter.

"Do you?" he replied without missing a beat.

I sighed, shaking my head. "I don't get you, Lorenzo. You act like you don't care about anything, but then you spend all day in a flower shop taking notes like your life depends on it. Why?"

For the first time, he hesitated.

"My father," he said finally, his voice quieter than I'd ever heard it. "He used to say that if you're going to do something, you should do it well. No shortcuts. No half-measures."

I blinked, caught off guard by the glimpse of vulnerability. "Your father sounds... intense."

"He was." Lorenzo's lips pressed into a thin line. "And he was right. But sometimes... sometimes it's hard to know where the line is between doing something well and losing yourself in it."

His words struck a chord I hadn't expected. I thought about all the late nights I'd spent in this shop, the weekends I'd given up, the sacrifices I'd made to keep this place alive. Had I crossed that line without even realizing it?

"I guess we both have a lot to figure out," I said softly.

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a moment, the cold, unyielding exterior melted away.

"Maybe," he said.

*****

As Lorenzo gathered his things and prepared to leave, I felt a strange mix of relief and... something else.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, his tone almost teasing.

I rolled my eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

"No," he said with a small smirk.

I watched him walk out into the night, the door jingling softly behind him.

For the first time since he'd walked into my life, I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted him to leave.