25. Ophelia

Chapter 25

Ophelia

I kissed him. That's my first thought this morning. I shouldn't have. It sets expectations. I told him I wanted to take it slow, but I couldn't resist.

Lying in bed with the morning sun filtering through the curtains, I replay the moment. His lips were soft, his touch gentle, but the passion was undeniable. I don't regret the kiss—it was perfect, maybe too perfect—but I regret what it might mean for us now.

I look at the clock; it's way too early, but I need to get to the store. I ordered more flowers thanks to the business account Javier set up for me, and it's early delivery. Maybe it will allow me to avoid him just a little longer, trying to figure out what I should say about last night and avoid mauling him again.

Not that he seemed to complain. I shake my head. Not now, Phee!

I rush to the bathroom, take a quick shower, and get ready for the day. But by the time I exit the bedroom, the smell of coffee and fresh baked goods assaults my nostrils, announcing that avoiding Javier is not possible.

I stop in the hall, checking my reflection once more before rolling my eyes.

When I walk into the main room, I almost choke on my saliva. Javier, his hair rumpled with sleep, is wearing a ‘bee happy' apron, sleeping shorts, and nothing more. He's leaving nothing to the imagination, and I can't help but ogle his wide, muscular shoulders, his strong legs, and his round ass that I know is as hard as it looks.

"Hi." Oh god, why is my voice all loud and squeaky?

His smirk widens as he catches me staring, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leisurely adjusts the apron, his every movement deliberate, aware of my gaze and clearly enjoying my flustered reaction.

"Good morning." Javier's lips curl into a teasing smile as he offers me a steaming mug. "Coffee?"

"Yes, please." My eyes dart to his face, then back down as I fail to keep my gaze steady.

I walk over to the counter and take the mug he offers, our fingers brushing. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I quickly pull my hand back, almost spilling the coffee.

"I thought you might want some breakfast," he says, turning back to the stove. "Figured I'd make something to start the day right."

I take a cautious sip of the coffee, the warmth spreading through me. "Thank you, this is perfect. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Besides, I needed to talk to you about last night."

My heart skips a beat, and I set the mug down, suddenly feeling very nervous. "About that?—"

"No," he interrupts gently. "Let me start. I know we said we'd take it slow, and I don't want you to feel pressured. But I don't regret the kiss. I don't regret anything about it."

I feel a weight lift off my shoulders at his words. I meet his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't regret it either."

"Great." He opens a bag from the fancy French bakery down the road, which I know for a fact doesn't deliver, but I suspect for him they do, and he sets a lovely buttery croissant on a plate, giving it to me. "Feel free to do it whenever you feel like though. My lips are yours for the taking."

I can't help but smile like an idiot before biting into the buttery goodness and moaning, my eyes closing.

When I open them, Javier is looking at me, his mouth hanging open and his pupils dilated as he's holding the counter tightly.

"Don't make noises like that when I'm trying to be good," he lets out with a gravelly voice. "And thank the heavens I'm wearing an apron."

"Should I?" I blurt out, blushing. "Plans today?" I ask, eager to change the subject.

Javier clears his throat, his grip on the counter loosening. "Yes, I need to brief the team on the European board meetings. But how about dinner tonight?"

"Not tonight. I have my online class. When you left, I started taking a business class online—for the store, you know."

"Oh, that's amazing! I love that."

My heart squeezes in my chest. This is a reaction so completely opposite to what the Gambinos would say. They would tell me there's no point and that it's a waste of time. But the way his face lit up—he can't fake that, and he's genuinely happy and proud of me.

I look at my watch. "You don't mind me taking one of your cars, right?" I took one this week because Derek told me I could, but now he's back.

"Of course. What's mine is yours." He heads toward the bedrooms, pausing to brush a kiss on my forehead. "I'll go shower. Have a good day."

I watch his back muscles move as he walks away, keeping my eyes on him long after he disappears.

Finally, I shake my head to clear my thoughts. There's work to be done, and I need to stay focused. I finish the croissant in two bites, grab my bag, and head to the garage. The sleek black car I've grown fond of over the past week awaits, a symbol of my new life.

As I drive, I reflect on how much I love the routine of the shop. It revives memories of my mother, making me feel like a part of her is still alive. With the funds Javier secured, I can finally start some of the projects we discussed. The thought fills me with a sense of purpose and connection.

I'm arranging a bouquet when the bell above the door jingles. I turn with a welcoming smile, but it vanishes the moment I see Fabrizio standing there, his eyes scanning the store with a predatory gleam. Grief twists my heart, quickly giving way to a hint of fear. My hand trembles as I discreetly press the call button on my phone, slipping it into my apron pocket. The weight of the phone feels like a lifeline in there.

"Fabrizio, hi." I muster a smile, trying to hide the unease bubbling inside me.

"Well, your father's death turned out to be alright for you after all."

His words feel like a physical blow, and I take a step back. "You told me to move on and enjoy Lucchese's protection."

"And you've clearly done it."

"Do you need some flowers?" I point at the premade bouquet. "Take one—on the house."

He walks over to the flowers, assessing them. I check my phone but realize it's not connected. I didn't call anyone.

"You know?—"

Startled, I drop the phone back into my apron pocket.

He turns back around. "I think you may still have a place in the famiglia after all."

I'm not as naive as I was just a few months back, and I can sense a trap when I see it. "How is that?"

"It seems that your husband is close to Lucchese."

I don't answer because, truthfully, I don't know, but I don't want Fabrizio to know that.

"Lucchese is an annoyance." He lets his fingers brush against the petals of a red rose. "Maybe you could—I don't know—let me know how your husband is helping him."

Best way to end up dead in a ditch, and yet I ask, "And would Dario mysteriously end up dead?"

Fabrizio's eyes light up. "It could be arranged—accidents happen."

Backstabbing rats, every single one of them, and if I wasn't done with this part of my DNA before, I'm completely done now .

I sigh. "Sadly, I can't help you. My husband doesn't trust me around business things."

Fabrizio steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he towers over me. "As I said, accidents happen. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to you." His voice drips with menace, each word a carefully sharpened blade. I flinch and step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

"A shame indeed."

I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat, to see Lucchese emerging from the shadows by the back door, his presence a dark silhouette against the dim light.

Fabrizio keeps his composure, but his sickly green hue gives him away. "Rafaele."

Lucchese strides forward, his fingers casually adjusting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. "Fabrizio," he says, his voice smooth yet laced with an undercurrent of danger, "coming to say hello to my friend Ophelia—Ophelia Vargas, you know." The name Vargas feels foreign yet undeniable as it hangs in the air between us.

"Yes, but she's my cousin—Gambino blood," Fabrizio says as if any of us needs a reminder.

Lucchese cocks his head to the side. "Is she though? I thought you rejected her. Now she's my responsibility." He takes another step toward Fabrizio. "Pray to God that nothing happens to her because if it does—and I mean anything—I will skin you alive. And that's not a threat, that's a promise."

Fabrizio straightens and throws me a cold look. "Always a pleasure, cousin. I am glad to see you are securing your loyalties. "

I nod. "Same to you."

As soon as he leaves, I turn to Lucchese. "You were joking, right?"

"About skinning?"

I nod slowly.

"Yes, absolutely. It takes much too long, and if the person doesn't hydrate the skin or drink enough water, it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Sure…" A shiver runs down my spine at Lucchese's words. His calm demeanor does nothing to mask the dark truth I know all too well—the man before me has a history of unspeakable acts. "Why are you here?" I finally ask.

"I came to say hi and buy a bunch of flowers," he deadpans.

I look at him silently. "Your husband called me when he heard your call."

"Where is my hus—Javier?"

"Hard to say?" He smirks. "He's in the car being restrained by two of my men. He wanted to barge in here, all guns blazing. Called me shouting that his wife was in danger." He rolls his eyes. "So much drama for nothing. Don't worry about Fabrizio. The Gambinos will stay away from you."

I don't listen anymore as I rush to the back alley.

When I reach the alley, I see the black car parked with its doors open. Two men, both large and imposing, are holding Javier back. His face is a mask of fury, his muscles straining against their grip.

"Javier!" I call out, my voice trembling with relief and fear .

He looks up, his expression softening slightly when he sees me. "Phee, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say, rushing over to him. "Let him go," I tell the men, my voice firmer than I feel.

They exchange a glance but release him. Javier steps forward, pulling me into a tight embrace. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest, and I hold on to him, letting the tension of the moment drain away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers into my hair. "I thought—when I heard?—"

"I know," I say, pulling back to look into his eyes. "It's okay. I'm okay."

Lucchese saunters into the alley, his eyes dancing with amusement as he takes in the scene. "See? All good now. No need for heroics."

Javier's glare could cut steel, but he remains silent, his jaw clenched tightly. His arm wraps around me, the strength of his hold both protective and grounding. I lean into him, my racing heart gradually slowing as the tension begins to melt away.

"I appreciate your help, Lucchese," I say, trying to keep my tone diplomatic. "But we've got it from here."

Lucchese gives a curt nod before stepping back, his shadow lingering like a specter in the alley. As he retreats, the world shrinks to just Javier and me. Javier's hands cradle my cheeks, his intense gaze softening, filled with an unspoken promise. His thumb sweeps gently across my skin, wiping away a tear I hadn't realized had escaped.

"I'm fine," I whisper, my voice trembling slightly with the emotion of the moment .

He smiles, a tender warmth in his gaze that makes my heart swell. His lips are soft and warm against mine, moving slowly, savoring the moment. His hands rest gently on my cheeks, his touch featherlight, as if afraid I might break. The world fades away, leaving only the warmth of his kiss and the steady beat of his heart against mine. It's a kiss of love, protection, and a promise that he will always be there for me.

I melt into him, my hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His lips move with gentle pressure, coaxing and comforting, making me feel safe and cherished. It's a kiss that reassures me and tells me that everything will be alright as long as we're together.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and we're both breathing a little heavier. His eyes search mine.

"I love you, Phee," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'll always protect you. Always."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by the love I feel for this man, but I can't say it, so instead, I rest my forehead against his chest, getting comforted by his scent.

We stand in the alley like that for far too long, but I feel so safe in his arms despite everything. I try to get out of his hold with a sigh, but he tightens his grip.

"I have to go back." I caress his biceps back and forth.

"Do you?" He still doesn't let go.

I let out a breathless chuckle. "Yes, I have a few orders, and a couple are important. "

He loosens his hold a little but doesn't let me go. "I can help you if you want—stay around."

I shake my head. "I'll be okay. Fabrizio was not going to hurt me anyway and after Lucchese's threat…" I cock my head to the side. "Do you think he's actually skinned people before?"

Javier grimaces. "I would not put it past him, to be honest."

"Jesus…" I grip his arms. "Go back to work. I'm fine, I swear."

He sighs, brushes his lips on the top of my head, and finally lets me go. "See you tonight at home?"

Hearing him say home makes my stomach flip in a good, exciting way. "See you tonight."

I watch him leave before heading back into the shop, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The rest of the day is a whirlwind of activity. Orders come in, and I'm busy arranging bouquets, taking calls, and helping customers.

Late in the afternoon, an elderly woman walks in. She looks around, her eyes brightening as she takes in the sight of the freshly arranged flowers. She approaches the counter with a warm smile.

"It's so nice to see Midsummer Petals back in business," she says. "I used to come here when your mother ran the shop. She had such a wonderful touch with flowers. It's good to see you carrying on her legacy."

Her words touch me deeply, and I feel a lump in my throat. "Thank you. It means a lot to hear that. I'm doing my best to keep her dream alive."

"You're doing a wonderful job, dear," she says, patting my hand. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

I smile, feeling a rush of gratitude. "Thank you. I hope so."

As she leaves with her bouquet, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment. This shop is more than just a business; it's a piece of my mother, a piece of myself. And knowing that I'm making her proud fills me with a sense of purpose. I am grateful to Javier for fighting for this dream to be reborn. I know that this part of my mother would have been lost forever without him.

Just as I'm closing up for the day, my phone buzzes with a text from Javier.

Javier: Working late, but I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Promise.

I smile, feeling a pang of disappointment.

Me: Don't work too hard. See you tomorrow.

I head back to the penthouse, the day's events playing over in my mind. When I walk in, the place feels empty without Javier. But as I set my bag down, I notice a small box on the counter. Curious, I walk over and open it.

Inside is a beautiful gold bee pendant with diamond wings. There's a note attached .

It's tracker-free, I promise.

Love always.

I smile, touched by the thoughtful gift. I fasten the pendant around my neck, feeling its comforting weight.

I settle into the couch, the pendant resting against my chest. Despite our challenges, I can feel the slow process of healing begin. Trust is building, brick by brick, and for the first time, I can see a future with Javier that isn't clouded by doubt or fear.

I think back to the alley, to his soft eyes and reassuring touch. I regret not telling him I loved him because I do. I never stopped. Maybe that's why I was so angry with myself—afraid to admit how much he still means to me.

I grab my laptop and start my online class, but today's events are occupying my mind, preventing me from concentrating. After thirty minutes of struggling, I give up and lie down on the couch, overwhelmed by the day's emotions.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a minute. Tomorrow, I'll tell him that I love him—that I want us to try again. Slowly. And with that certainty in my heart, I fall asleep, a small smile playing on my lips.