Chapter 7 Not Your Princess, Not Your Problem

Following her directions for quite some time, Derek's car finally stopped in front of a small, decorated eatery. The crowd packed the place, and the strong smell of food hit Derek when he walked in. Grease coated the floor and pillars, and whoever was in charge of cleaning hadn't done their job-the tables and chairs were slick with grime.

As they entered, he saw a middle-aged woman, sleeves and pants rolled up, sitting right by the door. She was dumping dirty bowls and plates into a large tub full of soapy water, washing them quickly, perfunctorily. Derek frowned, a wave of nausea churning in his stomach. But under Flora's provocative gaze, clearly waiting for a reaction, he forced himself to suppress it.

Amid a sea of students in plain uniforms and baby-faced looks, Derek stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed in a sharp suit and oozing confidence, he drew every eye when he stepped in.

Flora looked at his thunderous expression and felt an urge to laugh. She knew he'd never been to a place like this before; she could chalk it up as a new experience for him.

"The food here is delicious. What do you want?" Flora pushed the soy sauce-stained menu towards Derek. He instinctively leaned back slightly, his face etched with disgust. "You can just choose."

"But I'm treating a guest. It wouldn't be right for me to choose when the guest hasn't," Flora said with a small smile, a challenge glinting in her eyes.

Derek's jaw tightened. He randomly ordered a few items from the menu, pushed them away, and then meticulously wiped each of his fingers with a napkin.

"If it's too hard, Mr. Alnord, don't push yourself. I'd hate to be responsible if something regrettable happened. We're not even married yet, and I've already caused your tragic end-how guilty would I feel."

She gave him a sweet, almost innocent look as she slowly wiped her spoon with tissue, her fingers graceful like she had all the time in the world.

"Why don't you head back? I don't mind finishing your portion. I'm generous like that."

Derek's gaze fell on her slender fingers, and he suddenly remembered her soft hand stroking his back that night. Heat rose in his throat again.

"I never said I couldn't eat," Derek muttered, looking away.

Flora just shrugged with a little "Oh."

When the food arrived, Derek didn't touch a bite. He merely watched Flora occasionally, his gaze drifting unconsciously to her lips. Seeing a strand of hair fall across her face, he suddenly wanted to tuck it back for her, but he restrained himself.

After Flora finished eating, she started to get up to pay, but a hand reached out, stopping her. Derek dropped a large bill on the table and pulled her out of the eatery.

Closing her wallet, Flora followed him to the door and said, "Even though you paid, consider the meal my treat. We're even now. Don't follow me."

Derek knew she'd turn on him sooner or later, but he hadn't expected it so quickly. Still, there would be other chances; he wasn't in a rush and had no intention of chasing her. Less than three minutes later, however, Flora came running back. Derek was about to comment sarcastically, but she urged him frantically into the car. "To my place! Step on it!"

It was the first time Derek had seen her so completely out of control. Knowing something was seriously wrong, he didn't say anything; he just started the engine and peeled away from the curb. At Flora's frantic urging, the car kept accelerating, hitting nearly 125 mph at one point. Fortunately, Derek indulged in street racing during his rebellious youth, and his driving skills were sharp; anyone else behind the wheel might have killed them both.

The small apartment building, quiet earlier, now had numerous vehicles parked outside, including fire trucks and an ambulance. Derek understood immediately: the apartment engulfed in chaos was Flora's.

She didn't have the patience to wait. She bolted from the car, leaving her bag and phone behind, and sprinted madly toward the building.

Seeing her desperate state, Derek quickly got out and followed.

Flora looked crazed, trying to charge inside. Two firefighters blocked her path, and she was so agitated she nearly lashed out at them. Derek grabbed her arm, pulling her back so she wouldn't obstruct their work. Flora glared fiercely at him, her eyes startlingly red-rimmed.

"Let go of me!" she roared.

"It's on fire! Are you crazy? Going in there will only get in their way!" He frowned, seeing Flora as a cornered, helpless cat-all frantic claws and desperate cries but with an undeniable undercurrent of fear and vulnerability beneath the fury.

Suddenly, a warm male voice called out from the crowd. "Flora..."

Flora froze for a second, then spun around. Her eyes stung as she rushed forward and threw her arms around the man. Derek instantly recognized him-the guy she'd been with at the mall. Today, he was wearing grey sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and slippers-clearly, clothes meant for staying indoors.

Derek's expression turned colder as he listened to her frantic words.

"You scared me half to death! Asher, are you okay? Are you burned anywhere?" Flora anxiously checked him over, turning him this way and that, too frantic to worry about appearances.

Asher looked dazed, clearly shaken by the fire. He clung to Flora, burying his face in her neck. "Flora, I was so scared..."

The corner of Derek's mouth twitched; he felt a sudden wave of disgust. A broad-shouldered man, easily over six feet tall, clinging to a girl a head shorter than him and whining about being scared?

Ha! Flora's taste in men was certainly unexpected. Was this why she was always so caustic with him? Because she preferred this weak, dependent type?

"It's okay, don't be scared. I won't leave you alone again, okay?" Flora patted Asher's back comfortingly, her heart aching to see him like this. "But how did the fire start? Weren't you sleeping?"

Asher was silent for a moment, his expression pitiful. "I was hungry."

Flora felt a sharp pang of regret. She'd planned to go to the supermarket after dropping off her assignment and cook him a feast; she never imagined this would happen instead.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "it won't happen again. Once I win that award, I'll find us a better, safer place to live, okay?" Flora held Asher tightly, both trembling, though it was impossible to say from whom the tremors originated.

Derek scoffed derisively. Not only couldn't the man take care of his own woman, but he was also blatantly freeloading off her. And it wasn't just Derek's assessment; murmurs from the crowd suggested many onlookers felt the same, viewing Asher as utterly useless.

The whispers grew louder. People wondered aloud why such a beautiful girl would tolerate a man like that. One particularly nasty voice even muttered, saying she must be bewitched.

Flora heard them. A vein throbbed in her temple. She glared murderously at the crowd, pointing, and snarled, "You people don't seem to need your tongues anymore, do you? Shall I cut them out for you?"

The sharp tone and the fire in her eyes shut the gossip up immediately, reducing any further comments to vague mutters. That was the world's way: bully the weak, fear the strong. Flora had learned that principle well from Otis: everyone, deep down, was afraid of someone genuinely unhinged.