The late afternoon sun bathed New York City in a golden haze, stretching shadows long across the bustling streets. Elena Carter balanced a large crate of white roses in her arms, her breath fogging against the glass door of Carter's Blooms, the small flower shop her mother had once owned. Her father's health had been failing, bills stacked high in the drawer beneath the cash register, but still—this shop was her safe haven, the last place where her mother's memory lived.
The bell above the door jingled softly as Elena stepped inside. The familiar fragrance of lilies, orchids, and roses welcomed her like an old friend. She placed the crate on the counter and brushed a loose strand of dark brown hair from her face.
"Another late delivery?" her best friend and part-time helper, Maya, teased from behind the counter, where she was busy wrapping tulips in pastel paper.
Elena sighed. "The supplier mixed up the order again. These were supposed to be here this morning for that corporate event. Now I'll have to deliver them myself before the client throws a fit."
Maya's eyes widened. "Wait—the Blake Corporation event?"
Elena nodded, already tying her apron behind her back. "Yes, some big gala tonight. Apparently the CEO himself is hosting."
Maya let out a low whistle. "Adrian Blake. He's only, like, the most powerful man in Manhattan. Tall, rich, intimidating. I heard he once shut down a company because they delivered coffee late to a meeting."
Elena rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Sounds like an exaggeration. But either way, these flowers have to get there, or we'll lose the account. And we can't afford that."
Her tone grew heavy. Both of them knew what she meant. The shop was already drowning in debt. One lost contract could mean closing for good.
She loaded the bouquets carefully into her small delivery van and drove across the city. Her mind buzzed with worry about her father's medical bills and the eviction notice she had found slipped under their apartment door that morning. By the time she reached the glittering skyscraper of Blake Tower, her nerves felt frayed.
The building loomed like a fortress of glass and steel, its surface reflecting the dying light of sunset. A uniformed doorman eyed her van with suspicion but, after checking the delivery papers, waved her inside.
Elena balanced the arrangements on a cart, wheeling them across marble floors polished so perfectly she could see her reflection. The lobby itself was overwhelming—grand chandeliers, expensive art, people in sleek suits rushing past her as though she were invisible.
"Deliveries go through the service entrance," a receptionist said curtly, barely glancing up from her computer.
Elena bit her tongue and nodded. She had dealt with condescending attitudes before. But as she turned toward the elevators, fate intervened.
The doors slid open, and out stepped a man who immediately drew the room's attention. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and eyes as cold as storm clouds. His tailored black suit fit him like armor, his presence commanding without effort.
Elena froze. She didn't need an introduction—she knew instinctively that this was Adrian Blake.
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. Hers, wide and uncertain. His, narrowed in irritation—as though her mere presence had disrupted the rhythm of his controlled world.
"What is this?" His voice was deep, carrying easily across the marble.
The receptionist stammered. "Mr. Blake—flowers for the gala."
Adrian's gaze flicked to the cart of roses, then back to Elena. "Late."
Elena straightened, her pride pricked by the single word. "The supplier delayed the shipment. I brought them the moment they arrived."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Adrian's jaw tightened, as though he wasn't accustomed to being answered back. His employees hovered nervously, waiting for his reaction.
Finally, he stepped closer, his presence so overpowering that Elena instinctively held her breath. "What's your name?"
"Elena Carter."
His eyes lingered on her face, unreadable. Then he said, "Follow me."
Confused, Elena pushed the cart behind him into the private elevator. The ride was silent, the tension thick. She could almost hear the beating of her own heart.
When the doors opened onto the top floor, she was met with a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The gala space was already being decorated—crystal glasses set on tables, waiters moving swiftly, chandeliers glowing like stars.
Adrian stopped in the center of the room. "Set them up here," he ordered, gesturing to the long banquet table.
Elena obeyed, arranging the roses with careful precision. She felt his gaze on her the entire time, as though he were assessing more than just the flowers.
When she finally stepped back, Adrian crossed his arms. "Not bad. You've done work for us before?"
"Yes. My shop supplies arrangements for your corporate events."
He studied her. "You run the business yourself?"
"Yes. It was my mother's. Now it's mine."
Something flickered briefly in his eyes—interest, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came. He turned away. "See that you're never late again."
Elena clenched her fists but bit her tongue. She needed this contract. She couldn't afford to argue with a man like him.
She gathered her things, ready to leave, when suddenly, voices rose near the doorway. A tall, elegant woman swept in, her diamond necklace glittering beneath the lights. She was stunning, but her smile was sharp.
"Adrian," she purred. "Still brooding over flowers? Surely your time is more valuable than that."
Elena froze, recognizing her from society magazines: Isabella Grant, heiress, model, and Adrian's rumored former fiancée.
Adrian's expression hardened. "Isabella. What are you doing here?"
"I came to congratulate you on the gala," Isabella said sweetly, though her eyes flicked dismissively over Elena. "And perhaps to remind you what you're missing."
Elena felt out of place, like a shadow in the background. She turned to leave quietly, but before she could, Adrian's voice stopped her.
"Carter."
She turned back, startled.
Adrian's eyes locked on hers, cool and calculating. "Stay. I may have a business proposition for you."
Elena blinked. A proposition? For her?
Isabella's lips curled in disdain, but Adrian ignored her. He was still watching Elena, as though some sudden idea had struck him.
She didn't know it yet, but this
was the first step into a dangerous bargain. A bargain that would change her life forever.