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Georgia’s World of Flowers.
A part of me died. My soul crumpled in on itself.
My toughest competition in the Lower East Side. The one who had clients standing outside her shop day and night. Who was sunny and smiley in a non-creepy way. A stark contrast to me. Talking to flowers apparently freaked clients out. I refused to stop.
Which made Georgia a better face for a business, as my sister Melina texted me once. The bitch.
After a year of trying and failing to compete with her, I’d offered my services to big businesses. Hotels, for example. Their purchasing managers cared that I deliver beautiful flowers in a timely manner. I’d done that, leaving Georgia to do her thing with her walk-ins.
Apparently, she hadn’t done the same. Voltage was my thing. Fucking mine.
Who knew who else she approached? I’d have to call everyone tomorrow morning. Offer better prices. Ask them to sign contracts of exclusivity. I hoped it’d work.
I hoped Killian hadn’t dropped me already.
Without my clients, I’d run out of business. My landlords wouldn’t hesitate to evict me. They loathed me. They’d practically been waiting for this moment to come.
Itching to hear that I failed.
Looking at her name on a business card hurt me more than a literal slap would. My possessiveness burned hard and painful in my chest.
Voltage was my client.
Despite being a pretty fucking upbeat person, losing my business and forfeiting my dreams had a devastating effect on me.
Panic clutched at my throat. My eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything.
Other than Georgia’s fuchsia pink card and her pink catalog.
I watched it until Killian slid it away from my sight.
Too late.
I had no chance against her shop.
None.
Air. Air. I needed air.
I…
Sudden movements drew my attention. Anger and a sense of mission pummeled through the room.
Carter and Killian had another one of their silent conversations while I’d been suffocating here.
Now, they were putting their plan into action.
Killian tore the colorful catalog in half with his menacing hands. “It came in the mail,” he hissed and tossed the shredded glossy papers into the in-cabinet trash.
Carter threw me over his shoulder. “I told you we’ll never have another flower girl. Fucking never.”
He spun on his heel, striding off to his bedroom across the other side of the open space.
As he stormed off with me on his shoulder, I saw Killian. His frown and lips pinched tight. The flex of his muscles beneath his Henley.
I couldn’t help but wonder, did working with me piss him off? Or what?
I didn’t have a chance to spend another second contemplating Killian. Carter slammed the door to his room behind us.
