Chapter 2 Thorns and First Impressions

Chicago's streets buzzed with their usual frenetic energy, the contrast between wealth and struggle ever present in the air. The sharp aroma of street food mixed with the subtle sweetness of flowers as they spilled from their vendor carts, brightening the otherwise grimy streets. Among the flower vendors, Emilia Rivera stood, her small flower stall tucked into a corner on the edge of a busy street. The petals of her delicate bouquets swayed in the wind, each one handpicked to evoke the delicate beauty of nature.

She had a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary, but today, the bustle around her seemed even louder, the harsh city noises were somehow louder, they were more disruptive. Perhaps it was because she'd been expecting this. The fresh scent of roses clung to the air as she wiped her hands on her apron, shaking off the remnants of soil from the last bouquet she had arranged.

A car, a sleek black Maserati pulled up in front of her stall, its powerful engine purring as the driver cut the engine. Emilia's pulse quickened.

Adrian Lombardi....

She had seen him before, at high-profile events, at parties she'd never be invited to, at places where people like him lived in worlds she could never touch. Adrian was the epitome of everything she despised about the Lombardi family. He was arrogant, ruthless, and powerful. He was the kind of man who could break her heart without even trying.

His dark, intense eyes surveyed the flowers, his sharp jawline hidden beneath a slight stubble that seemed as effortless as his wealth. He stepped out of the car, a hint of amusement in his gaze as he looked down at the display of roses, lilies, and daisies. His perfectly tailored black suit contrasted sharply with the chaos of the street.

Emilia forced herself to meet his gaze. "Can I help you with something, Mr. Lombardi?" she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

He smirked, and his lips curved in a way that made her stomach flutter, though she knew better than to trust it. "I'm just browsing." His voice was smooth, it was a velvet whisper that was almost too charming for someone she knew was part of the mafia world. "A flower shop in a place like this. I thought they only grew on the outskirts of town."

There it was. The typical superiority that came from someone born into money, someone who viewed people like her as nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

"I have a business, Mr. Lombardi," she replied, holding his gaze. "And my flowers are just as much a part of the city as your empire."

He raised an eyebrow, amused by her response. "Bold," he said, stepping closer. "I like that."

For a moment, the city faded into the background. All Emilia could focus on was the way Adrian's presence seemed to loom over her, his eyes locking onto hers with a penetrating intensity. He was standing too close now, too dangerously close, and she took a cautious step back, the flowers behind her seeming to blur with the quickness of her pulse.

"Do you come here often?" he asked with a probing low voice.

"Only when I have to," she replied, but her insides were betraying her calm exterior. He might be a stranger, but there was a magnetic pull to him she couldn't ignore. It was dangerous, the way he seemed to see right through her walls.

His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, as if he'd glimpsed something in her that caught his attention, something deeper than the flowers, deeper than the street corner. It didn't last long, and the mask of arrogance returned. "I'm sure your flowers are as good as any." He said as he took a glance around the stall with a dismissive air, even though his words didn't match the tone of his eyes.

Emilia crossed her arms, feeling the sudden tension build between them. "I don't need your approval, Mr. Lombardi."

The flicker of a smile tugged at his lips. "I wasn't offering it."

Before she could respond, a shout echoed down the street, pulling both of their attentions to the commotion just a few feet away. A delivery man, clearly frustrated, was arguing with a nearby street vendor, and a crowd was beginning to gather.

Adrian glanced at her, clearly amused by the distraction. "Seems like a usual day around here." He stepped back with an unreadable expression, and his hand reached into his pocket, pulling out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. "I'll take these," he said, gesturing to a small bouquet of white lilies.

Emilia hesitated. His money was worth more than the flowers, more than this stall, and he was offering it without hesitation, as though it were an afterthought. But she couldn't let the transaction go unchallenged.

"These flowers aren't for the likes of you," she replied sharply, cutting through the air with her voice.

His eyes darkened, but there was something beneath that, something else that flickered in the depths of his expression. Something more than the playboy arrogance. "I'll decide what I'm worthy of, Emilia," he said, his voice became cold all of a sudden. "I think you've forgotten your place."

Her heart raced in her chest, but she refused to back down. She'd learned long ago not to let men like him walk over her. "Perhaps you should remember who you're talking to."

He studied her for a moment, narrowing his eyes, as though trying to piece together the woman standing before him. There was a shift in his expression, it was a quiet realization that he wasn't looking at some simple, submissive flower girl.

Adrian straightened as a faint smirk returned to his lips, though there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes. "You'll regret that, Emilia. The world doesn't play by your rules." He turned, heading back toward his car, the sound of his footsteps fading into the noise of the street.

But as he reached the door, he paused and glanced back. "But I'll take those lilies," he said, his voice was soft, almost as an afterthought.

Emilia stood frozen, watching him disappear into the luxury of his car, she had a mix of disbelief and fury swirling within her. She couldn't be sure why she felt such a pull toward him nor why his departure left an emptiness behind, but she knew one thing for certain.

This wasn't the last time their paths would cross.