Chapter 4 Roses and lilies

The women’s restroom on the forty-fifth floor was a sanctuary of silent, polished marble and cold porcelain.

Zavia splashed handfuls of freezing water against her face, staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror as if she might find the blueprint for how her life had derailed so completely before 8:00 AM.

Her hair was still pinned in its immaculate twist, her blazer was buttoned to corporate perfection, but underneath the armor, she was vibrating with a chaotic cocktail of adrenaline, humiliation, and raw exhaustion.

She gripped the edges of the marble sink, her knuckles turning bone-white.

You’re just like her: rigid, unlovable...

Tommy’s words echoed off the tiled walls, slicing through her defenses. And then flashed the memory of Nicholas Wade—standing impossibly close, smelling of sandalwood, laughing into the wreckage of her forty-page financial model like her entire world was just a very amusing spectator sport.

A single, hot tear slipped from her lashes, tracking down her cheek before she aggressively swiped it away with the back of her hand.

"Get it together, Zavia," she whispered fiercely to her reflection, her voice cracking. She could not fall apart. Falling apart meant losing control. Losing control meant becoming her mother, living in the shadow of a vanished father and an invisible cage of anxiety.

She drew in a deep, trembling breath, dabbed at her eyes with a pristine tissue, and reapplied her lip gloss with shaking hands. The armor was back on. She just had to survive the day.

When Zavia returned to her desk in the open-plan financial bullpen, the hum of computer keyboards and muffled phone calls faded into the background.

Sitting squarely on the center of her impeccably organized desk was a massive, extravagant bouquet of blush roses and white lilies, wrapped in heavy crimson paper.

Zavia blinked, her heart doing a sudden, treacherous little flip. She stepped forward, her fingers brushing the crisp card tucked into the floral arrangement. She pulled it open.

Zav, the messy handwriting read.

I shouldn't have said those things this morning. I was stressed, but I know you only want the best for us. Let's talk tonight? Dinner at that new Italian place. Love, T.

A warm wave of relief washed over her chest, instantly smoothing out the jagged edges of the morning's disaster. See? He was trying. He was sorry.

The plan wasn't broken after all; it just needed a minor recalibration. A soft, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned down to inhale the sweet, rich fragrance of the roses.

She picked up her phone, her thumb flying across the screen to dial his number before she could overthink it.

"Hey," Tommy answered on the second ring, sounding a little breathless.

"Hey," Zavia murmured, her voice softening, the sharp edges of her earlier fury melting away into something hopeful. "I got the flowers. Thank you. That... that was really sweet of you."

"Of course, babe," Tommy said quickly. "So, are we still on for tonight? I made a reservation at that spot downtown for eight."

Zavia’s eyes drifted toward her calendar app, mentally calculating her workload. With Nicholas’ explosive takedown of her M&A model, her evening was going to be an absolute marathon of spreadsheet revisions.

"I can't do dinner tonight, Tommy, I'm so sorry," she said, her tone apologetic as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Nicholas Wade completely tore apart our valuation model this morning. I’m going to be stuck at the office late rewriting the entire risk assessment."

"Oh. Right. Of course your boss takes priority,"

Tommy sighed, a heavy note of passive-aggressive irritation instantly creeping back into his voice.

"So you're canceling on me again? Unbelievable."

Zavia’s smile faltered, a flicker of irritation sparking behind her ribs, but she quickly tamped it down, eager to keep the peace.

"I'm not canceling, I'm rescheduling! Look, I'm already meeting up with Sarah at Velour later tonight for a quick drink to decompress. Why don't you join us there around ten? We can salvage the night."

There was a brief pause on the other end.

"A club? On a Friday night? You know I have to be up early for the gym, Zav. Why can't you just come straight home?"

"Because I need a couple of hours, Thomas, besides it’s more like a bar than a club" Zavia said, her voice tightening just a fraction before she caught herself.

"Just meet me at ten. Okay?"

"Fine," Tommy grumbled. "Whatever. See you there."

The line went dead with a click.

Zavia lowered her phone, staring at the gorgeous bouquet of roses resting on her desk. She told herself the small, hollow knot in her stomach was just work stress.

She had no idea that walking into Velour tonight would drop her right back into the path of the one man on earth she should be avoiding at all costs.