Chapter Nine - Zoe
Several days have passed, but I can’t shake the memory of Lukin. The things that happened between us, the tension, the heat. It all plays on a loop in my mind, each replay more vivid than the last. His touch, his words, his presence—it lingers in my skin, in my breath, in the very core of me.
I tell myself to forget, to move on. That it doesn’t mean anything.
But the more I try, the harder it becomes.
Every time I close my eyes, it’s like he’s still there—his touch still pressing into me, his eyes still watching me with that unrelenting intensity.
His hands were everywhere, claiming, owning.
My body aches from the memory of him, a dull throb that refuses to fade, and my mind battles it with guilt and confusion. He’s Maria’s father, for goodness’s sake. I shouldn’t want him. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him.
But I can’t help it.
I’m in my fashion store, wrapping a silk dress around a mannequin, my hands moving mechanically as I try to keep my mind busy.
It’s a small store, one I’m still building, but it’s mine.
The place where I can create, where I can lose myself in the beauty of the designs I put together.
It’s always been my safe space, the one place where I could escape everything else.
But now, it’s different.
Every corner of this place, every surface I touch, is suddenly riddled with memories of Lukin—his presence, his overwhelming masculinity. The way his body felt against mine, how his touch sent shocks through me, how it felt like I was on fire when he was near.
I try to focus on the dress in my hands, but the silk slips through my fingers, my mind drifting back to that moment in the garden, when he held me in that almost-kiss, his lips so close to mine, the heat between us so palpable I could taste it.
I swallow hard, shaking my head to clear it. This store is my sanctuary. I can’t let him ruin it for me.
But I can’t deny that every day, every minute I spend here, the pull toward him is growing stronger. I try to push it away, but every time I try to distract myself with something else, his face flashes in front of me, his voice echoes in my mind, and that terrible, wonderful ache takes over again.
I’m losing control.
And I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone.
The sound of my phone ringing jolts me out of my thoughts. I jump, the noise piercing through the quiet of the store. My heart races for a split second, but when I check the screen, it’s just Jason.
I roll my eyes, the irritation rising immediately. Jason. Of course.
He’s been calling for weeks now, trying to get back in touch, trying to make amends, or whatever it is he wants. I know exactly what he’s after—he wants me back. He wants to pretend like nothing happened between us, like we can pick up where we left off.
We broke up in my final year of college. He got too intense, too controlling, and I had to break free to focus on myself, to focus on my future. I thought I loved Jason at the time. I really did. But now? The feelings I have for Lukin make everything with Jason seem so… childish, so insignificant.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about Jason. But here he is again, pulling me out of my thoughts, reminding me of a past I’m trying to leave behind.
I let the phone ring a couple more times, hoping it’ll stop on its own, but it doesn’t.
With a sigh, I swipe the screen to answer. “Jason,” I say, my voice flat, trying to keep the annoyance out of it.
“Zoe, hey,” he says, his voice warm, familiar—too familiar. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I miss you. We need to talk.”
I wince, the words hitting me with a mix of guilt and frustration. “We don’t need to talk, Jason. I told you before, it’s over.”
There’s a pause on the other end, a slight crack in his tone before he continues. “But, Zoe, I’ve been thinking about it. What happened between us can easily be corrected. Let’s not throw away something good for a minor character flaw. We should—”
“I’m not interested in going back, Jason,” I state, voice firm, though a little softer than I mean it to be. “There’s no future for us. We’re not the same people we were when we dated. You’re not the one I need in my life.”
I can hear the quiet on the other end as my words sink in.
It’s the truth. I’ve moved on. I thought I’d always love him, but that was before everything with Lukin.
Before I understood what it really meant to be desired, to have someone like that look at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
Well, it’s not like I want Lukin in my life either.
He’s just a reference point. I’d rather take Jason back than let him touch me again.
Jason sighs, and I can almost hear the disappointment in his breath. “I don’t get it. I still want you, Zoe. I’ve never stopped. Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out,” I say, struggling to keep the guilt from creeping into my voice. “I just… I can’t do this with you anymore.”
His silence speaks volumes, but I don’t let it get to me. I’m not going back. Not to him. Not to anyone. I need to build my life and make a name for myself. Men are not my priority right now.
“Okay. Fine. But can we see? Even if it’s just for the last time. I miss you. We can even be friends.”
I contemplate this for a second and then sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll let you know when I’m free to hang out.”
I hang up the phone before he can say any more.
The thoughts of Lukin continue to swirl in my mind, an endless cycle of confusion, desire, and guilt that I can’t escape.
The memory of him, his hands, his eyes, his voice, haunts me every second of the day.
I try to focus, try to lose myself in the designs I’m working on, but the distraction doesn’t stop, even after I finish for the evening.
I leave the store that night, locking up behind me, but even the walk home does little to calm the storm inside me. The city is buzzing around me, people passing by in a blur, but I’m stuck in my own world, trapped in the aftermath of that moment, that connection.
When I arrive at my apartment, the first thing I notice is the bouquet waiting outside my door for me. The sight of it sends a chill through my bones. Black orchids. Their dark beauty is so striking, so haunting that it almost feels like a message in itself.
No name. No note. Just the chilling elegance of it.
My heart skips a beat as I glance around, half expecting someone to be there, but the apartment is empty, silent.
I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off, so I head back to the lobby.
The doorman, Mr. Wolfe, is still at his desk, flipping through a magazine.
His eyes flicker up when he sees me approach.
“Miss Monroe,” he greets, smiling. “Do you need anything?”
“Uh, no.” I smile back. “Can you tell me who dropped off the flowers for me earlier? The black orchids?”
He grins. “A man in a suit dropped them off. Didn’t say anything. Just handed them to me, told me to leave them at your door and left.” He shrugged. “Do we have a secret admirer?”
My mind flashes to him—Lukin. Of course. Who else would it be? This isn’t a secret admirer.
I force myself to nod, my lips tight as I suppress the urge to ask more. “There’s no secrets admirer, Mr. Wolfe,” I say, forcing a laugh. “Good night.”
I hurry into the hall and back to my apartment. The fact that it’s anonymous, the dark, haunting beauty of the flowers, the way it feels like a warning—this is not over—it all screams his name.
When I reach my door, I pick up the bouquet and trash it in the bin down the hallway. Take that! I tell myself it’s the right choice, that I don’t need this in my life. I don’t need him.
He’s Maria’s father, I remind myself again, just like I have a hundred times in the past few days.
I can’t afford to let my feelings for him complicate everything.
I can’t let him destroy the friendship I have with Maria.
That’s not something I’m willing to risk, no matter how hot, sexy, and intense he is.
I can’t afford to let him in.
But the truth is, the longer I think about it, the more I realize I’m lying to myself. Because a part of me wants him.
And that’s what terrifies me the most.
***
I wake up the next morning to a sight I didn’t expect.
Roses. Red, bleeding against the white paper wrapping, their petals soft and smooth, still fresh from whoever had sent them.
They sit at the front of my door, just like the black orchids, a haunting reminder of what I’ve been trying so desperately to forget all night.
I stare at them for a moment, frustration bubbling in my chest. I don’t know how to handle this. I can’t keep pretending nothing’s happening. He’s pushing me. Lukin is pushing me.
With a sigh, I march down to the lobby, each step heavy, my mind already made up. I can’t stand it anymore. It has to stop.
The doorman, Mr. Wolfe, is there as usual, his attention half on the counter, half on whatever he’s reading. When I reach him, I don’t wait.
“Mr. Wolfe,” I say, my tone firm, trying not to let my frustration bleed through. “Can you please not accept any more flowers for me? I don’t want them.”
He looks up at me, frowning, clearly confused. “It’s just the black orchids, Miss Monroe,” he says. “What are you talking about? No one else has sent anything else, as far as I know.”
I freeze. My stomach sinks. What the hell is going on? He doesn’t know about the roses. That means that whoever dropped them off was in front of my door.
I clear my throat, trying to recover. “I’m sorry,” I say, my voice softer now. “I just… thought, uhm—never mind.”
Mr. Wolfe nods slowly, but he doesn’t press further, and I hurry back to my apartment, heart pounding. Like yesterday, I grab the rose bouquet and thrash them in the bin. The black orchids are still there and I shut the roses in there too.