Little Flame

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ZANE

The bell above the flower shop door jingled as I pushed it open. The scent of roses, lilies, and countless other blooms swirled around, but it wasn’t the sweetness of flowers that brought a rare softness to my sharp features—it was *her*. Brianna Castellano.

She had no idea how deep she’d gotten under my skin. I didn’t like being vulnerable, didn’t like feeling unmoored. But with her, it was inevitable. Every smile, every sharp remark, every moment she tried to push me away only pulled me closer. 

The florist, a small, older woman with glasses perched on her nose, looked up at me with a curious smile. “What can I help you with?” 

“I need flowers,” I said, “Every kind you have.” 

Her eyes widened. “Every kind?” 

“Every single one,” I confirmed, pulling out my wallet without hesitation. “Wrap them up however you want. Just make sure it’s enough to fill a room.” 

The florist blinked, startled but pleased. “A special occasion, I take it?” 

My lips curved into a small, almost possessive smile as I thought of Brianna. *Special doesn’t even begin to cover it.* 

I waited as the florist and her assistants bustled around, arranging bouquets in every shape and size. Roses of every color, sunflowers, delicate daisies, fragrant peonies, and exotic orchids—it all began to pile up until the room was a kaleidoscope of color. 

When the task was complete, I handed the florist my card without a second glance at the price. Money meant nothing; her reaction would be priceless. 

---

By the time I arrived at her boutique, my car was bursting with flowers. I parked in front of the shop, stepped out, and glanced at the sign above her door. The lights were on—she was inside. 

Perfect. 

I moved quickly, unloading the flowers with surprising ease, I wasn’t the type to do grand romantic gestures, but for Brianna? I didn’t care how ridiculous it looked. 

When I opened the door to her boutique, the small chime rang out, and I met with the faint scent of her perfume—something subtle, intoxicating. She was standing behind the counter, her dark hair pulled into a loose bun, her focus on a notebook in front of her. 

“Zane?” Brianna looked up, her brows furrowing in confusion as I stepped inside, my arms full of flowers. 

“Where do you want these?” I asked, my voice casual though my heart pounded harder than I cared to admit. 

“What…?” Her eyes widened as she took in the sheer volume of flowers. I made trip after trip, filling her boutique with bursts of color and life. 

“Zane, what is this?” she finally asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. 

“These,” I said, setting the final bouquet on the counter in front of her, “are for you.” 

“All of them?” Her tone was incredulous, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—something vulnerable. 

“All of them,” I confirmed, stepping closer until I was just inches away. “You deserve more than I could fit in here, but it’s a start.” 

Her lips parted as though to argue, but I lifted her chin gently, tilting her face up to meet my gaze. 

“Brianna,” I said, my voice low, possessive. “I don’t do this for anyone. I don’t chase, I don’t beg, and I don’t make a fool of myself over a woman. But you…” My thumb brushed her jawline, “You make me *want* to.” 

Her breath hitched, her pulse fluttering visibly at her throat. “Zane…” 

“Say the word,” I murmured, leaning closer. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk out of here and leave you alone.” 

But she didn’t. 

Instead, her eyes softened, and she whispered, “You’re impossible.” 

My lips curved into a slow, triumphant smile. “Good. Because I don’t intend to be anything less.” 

As I turned to leave the shop.

“Zane,” she called after me, her voice softer now. 

I paused, glancing over my shoulder. 

“Thank you.” 

I didn’t say anything, just nodded.

She was mine. Even if she didn’t fully realize it yet. 

Author's note:

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