Withering Rose

Chapter 7

Finally, I was able to turn my phone back on after it rudely died during one of the most important meetings of my career. Great timing, I thought sarcastically. And, of course, I hadn't brought a charger with me to the meeting. That left me stuck the entire time, discussing the partnership with Mr. Ervin while feeling Victoria's seductive gaze burning into me from across the room.

Victoria had a way of making even the most professional settings uncomfortable. She didn't bother hiding the way she eyed me, her intentions clear despite her husband sitting just a few feet away.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, I wasted no time. After the obligatory thank-yous and farewells, I practically bolted for the door, heading straight to my jet. Franklin trailed behind me, struggling to keep up as I climbed aboard.

"Hey—what's—your—deal?" Franklin wheezed, collapsing into one of the jet's plush seats. He shot me a bewildered look, clearly wondering what the hell had gotten into me.

But I didn't bother explaining. My focus was on one thing. As soon as I got inside, I plugged my phone into the charger, my heart leaping as the glorious Apple logo lit up the screen. Relief washed over me.

Franklin watched me with raised eyebrows. "You're acting like your life depends on that thing turning back on," he said, shaking his head.

Ignoring him, I leaned forward, gripping the edge of my seat as the phone finally powered up. Notifications began rolling in, but one caught my attention immediately—a text from her. Destiny.

A slow smile spread across my face as I opened the message, her words lighting up my screen:

I should have been happy already. After all, Charles Ervin and I had just finalized the deal that granted me ownership of what once was his company—a monumental step toward solidifying my empire. But it wasn't that triumph that brought the biggest smile to my face. It was that simple text from her.

As the jet roared to life, I buckled myself in, still grinning like an idiot. After a few minutes, I glanced over to see Franklin already dozing off, his head tilted at an awkward angle. The quiet hum of the jet was the perfect cover. I pulled out my phone, dialed a number, and waited for someone to answer.

"Thank you so much for calling The Flower Boutique! How may I assist you today?" came the cheerful voice of a young woman on the other end.

"Hi, it's Marcus," I whispered, keeping my voice low so Franklin wouldn't hear me.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Fowler! How can I help you today?"

"I'll be faxing over an address and name shortly," I said, glancing at my phone. "Could you be a darling and send a bundle of flowers to that address?"

"Of course, sir. No problem at all."

"Thank you so very much." Click.

I sighed contentedly, feeling a wave of satisfaction at my small gesture. But my moment of peace was short-lived when I heard a loud gasp.