Page 28 of Hidden Heir

“You wouldn’t expect it, would you?” Selina chuckles, wrapping her cardigan around her tightly against the early morning chill while I embrace it. It cools the anger and makes me feel alive.

“Not at all. A garden was the last thing I expected to find here.”

“Believe it or not, Leon’s father started it. It was his passion project for as long as Leon’s mother was alive. After she passed, he abandoned it. A few of us have kept it going. It’s good for the mind and soul. Nothing works things out like spending a good few hours in nature.”

“I agree,” I chuckle. “Although I’m more of a potted-plant greenhouse kinda gal.”

“Oh?” Selina looks at me with curiosity. “You garden?”

“Technically, I’m a florist.” Saying that out loud sounds alien after the past two days. “I do flower arrangements, weddings, special events, etc. Flowers and displays are my cup of tea.”

Something about Selina is oddly calming. Maybe it’s being able to chat with another woman or her positive energy as she leads Tiff and me through the gardens, but she’s very easy to talk to. Before I know it, I’m telling her all about my business and the enjoyment I get out of making people happy through flowers. She asks me to identify a few unknown flowers in the garden. Idig out my phone and show her some of the arrangements I’ve worked on while Tiff runs through the grass.

“You’re so talented,” Selina says. “These are absolutely stunning. And you have your own store?”

“Yep, for four years now.”

“That’s amazing. Are you online?”

I nod. “On socials. You can look me up under Hive Blossoms.”

“You know what,” Selina begins as she types the name into her phone, “I think I might have started following you when I needed some inspiration for a birthday party a while back. Let me see.” She taps away then suddenly her face falls.

She comes to an abrupt stop.

“Hive blossoms? That’s you?”

“Yes.”

Selina lifts her head from her phone. “I’m so sorry, Brooke.”

“Why?”

When she turns her phone to face me, my heart shatters into a hundred pieces. On the screen is an article detailing the sudden and violent fire that swept through my store last night, burning the place to the ground.

13

LEON

Staying away from Brooke is harder than I thought it would be. My father’s instructions were clear, and he’s not one to be trifled with. He knows exactly how everything should be run down to the last detail, and even though the role of Pakhan rests on my shoulders, I would be foolish to discredit his advice.

Brooke is a distraction.

And a dangerous one because she completely consumes my thoughts. For the past couple of days I’ve stayed away from her to try and make it easier when the time comes to ask her to leave. That doesn’t mean I haven’t been keeping tabs on her through the CCTV.

She reentered my life on one of the worst nights of hers. I try to tell myself that it will be okay if she stays but I know that’s just wishful thinking. My father is right. I can’t afford a distraction right now.

The Italians have had a handle on the gun-running business for as long as I can remember. Aligning with them means top-quality weapons for our men and a fat stack of cash for them, but they also claim to have morals, digging in their heels at every turn because they dislike how we run things. If it weren’t sucha delicate situation I’d tell them to go fuck themselves. I don’t judge them on how they make their money, they shouldn’t be judging us on how we make ours.

But unspoken propriety laws keep me from saying such things out loud. As I approach the restaurant where I’m meeting the Italian Don for dinner and discussion, I try to put Brooke and any irritation out of my mind.

It lasts until I cross the street, flanked by trusted men, and pass a jeweler with a gorgeous ruby necklace in the window. Rubies that are the same shade as Brooke’s lips. Instantly, she’s back in my thoughts as I picture her wearing nothing but that necklace. My core tightens instantly and my cock grows hard.

Luckily, my phone rings and I’m instantly distracted, hoping the Don is calling to cancel. No such luck. It’s Selina.

“What have you got for me?”

“You remember how the Irish were all up in arms about something?” Selina asks, her voice slightly breathless.

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