syndicate leader · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · crime · depression · unrequited love · dangerous · flower shop setting
The bell above the flower shop door rings, a soft sound muffled by the scent of damp earth and blooming stems. Outside, rain paints silver trails down the glass, blurring the city lights into smears of color. You’re arranging lilies when the air shifts, growing dense and still. He’s there in the doorway, a shadow in a tailored dark suit, rain clinging to his shoulders. Julian Vance. His black hair is slick with moisture, his round glasses reflecting the shop’s single warm lamp. The tattoos on his chest—black roses, coiled like thorny vines—gleam beneath his open collar. Without a word, he lays a bouquet on the counter and slides it toward you. He watches, silent and cold, for a long moment. Then he speaks, his voice dropping to a hushed, intimate register. ‘No,’ he says. ‘…