Chapter 17 Sunflowers Don’t Lie #2
He holds up his finger to his lips. Then he flicks my chin, his eyes glinting.
Ren
Anonymous. Let’s keep it that way.
The humming appears under my skin again. I examine the quiet man again—his thick black hair, the slight wave in front, the dark brows framing the most expressive eyes, a mouth too severe for how often it keeps surprising me.
Ren
Bad guys make money. I work with Elias. Don’t look so surprised.
“That wasn’t what I was thinking!”
He chuckles. The sound—raspy, rich—feels familiar and strange.
I want to hear it again.
“So you’re saying you’re a bad guy?” I tug my lip between my teeth.
He arches his brow and leans in. His eyes dip to my mouth.
Then he shoves a sheet of paper at me.
I’m the worst.
“Somehow, I don’t think so,” I murmur, a smile twitching my lips. “It’s like what they say about stupidity. People who are stupid don’t say they are. And I think you…Mr. Ren without a last name, aren’t as bad as you think you are.”
I lean in and whisper, “You’re hiding a heart of gold. I see it.”
When he doesn’t respond, I pull back, finding those mysterious eyes widening then darkening, like someone hit him with a defibrillator.
His throat ripples. He pushes the opened food package toward me.
A half-dozen orange marmalade cookies from the popular bakery, Estelle’s.
My favorite, but nearly impossible to get.
“How?” This order is too specific to be a random guess.
He writes on the paper.
You had it last time on your desk. Crumbs all over. Figured you liked it.
I stare at the words, then at him.
“You noticed,” I murmur.
He lifts a shoulder. Like, of course he did. He scribbles something else on the paper.
Eat first. Save the world later.
My stomach flips harder than it should.
One second stretches into two, then three—neither of us moving.
“Thank you,” I say, warmth blooming under my ribs. How long has it been since someone anticipated my needs?
There’s something else in the bag.
“Oh.” I peer inside and pull out…a book? “Jane Eyre? I asked you to read it, not get it for me.”
He grins and writes again.
I finished it. It’s actually a reread. I should be offended that you’d mix me up with a man who locks a woman in the attic. But then I thought, you should read it again. Perhaps you’ll see steel-spined Jane inside you.
I gape at his message, then look up, finding those inscrutable eyes analyzing me—like he’s taking apart every micro expression and predicting what I’ll do next.
“So you’re saying you won’t do shady stuff like Mr. Rochester.”
Something flashes across his eyes, too quickly for me to decipher.
My sins are not secrets for long.
“What do you mean? I asked you before, but if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Really.”
He doesn’t answer me.
Thinking I’ve overstepped, my gaze darts to the lone sunflower by the keyboard. I fidget with my necklace, remembering the unease when I saw the bouquet earlier.
Ren knocks on the desk, pulling my attention back to him. He scribbles on the paper.
You look pale. Something’s wrong. Tell me.
I swallow. Where do I even begin?
I don’t want to tell him about Reaper. Because if I told him, he’d stop Reaper from visiting.
And I was going to text the man later to stop coming anyway.
The thought twists my insides.
“I got a bouquet of sunflowers this morning,” I say. “Not this one here, but the same kind.” I point to the flower on my desk. “No name. They were Blake’s favorite.”
His jaw tightens. He crumples the paper in his hand before smoothing it out again and writing on it.
Boyfriend? Secret admirer?
My gaze flies up to him.
His lips are pressed into a firm line. And those eyes of his… they’re cold. Lethal. But also something more. Something…haunted.
Then the expression vanishes.
Ignore me.
I shake my head. “No. No one. I don’t…I don’t know who could’ve sent them to me. There was also a note.”
After rummaging through my purse for it, I hand it to him.
His eyes flash and nostrils flare.
He writes again.
I’m keeping it. Will do some digging.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just flowers.”
Better safe than sorry.
His pen stills. Then moves again.
Is that it? Nothing else happened?
“You didn’t want to be alone. So…here I am.” Reaper’s dark voice floats in my mind. “Let me protect you.”
I part my lips to speak, but nothing comes out.
He holds my gaze and reaches over, flipping my hand before placing two fingers on my wrist.
Like the way he did when the patient attacked me. But this time…it’s gentler. More intimate.
My nerves come alive, and the rest of the room fades into darkness.
“Nothing else,” I whisper.
“You sure?” he mouths.
For a moment, I think of heated kisses and desperate caresses in the dark. Of teeth and nails, pain and pleasure.
I’m out of my mind. The wires in my body must be crossed. Malfunctioning.
“I’m sure,” I respond.
He lets go of my hand and turns to leave. But he pauses, turns back, and grabs the pen from my hand. Concentration furrows his brows as he writes on the crinkled paper before handing it to me.
Then he walks away—no goodbye, no explanation.
This man confuses me.
I watch him disappear out the staff entrance, then I read his message.
Queen of the Night tulips. Your favorite. That’s what I would’ve gotten you.