Chapter Five: Deal.

Kier – POV

The flower shop always smelled strongest in the morning — buckets of lilies and roses still dewy from the truck, stems stacked in vases behind the counter. I’d been there long enough that I didn’t notice the scent anymore, but customers did.

My coworker Hana was restocking the tulips when she glanced over. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” I said, keeping my voice light.

“Late night?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Something like that.”

Before she could pry, the doorbell chimed and a woman in a silk scarf swept in, her heels clicking against the wood. “Bonjour, monsieur,” she greeted, her accent crisp.

I switched to French without thinking, guiding her toward the roses. “Bonjour. Vous cherchez quelque chose de particulier aujourd’hui?”

(Good morning. Are you looking for something in particular today?)

By the time she left with a wrapped bouquet, Hana was giving me a look. “You make it sound like you’re straight out of a romance novel when you speak French.”

I shrugged. “It sells flowers.”

⸻

At 9:55, I wiped down the counter and untied my apron. My gut was tense, but not from the morning rush. The dream from last night was still there, clinging to the edges of my thoughts. Every time I caught the faint smell of rope from the storage room or heard the door lock click, my skin prickled.

When I stepped outside, the same black SUV was already idling at the curb.

Julian sat behind the wheel, sunglasses catching the sun. His gaze tracked me as I walked up. “Ready?”

I hesitated, just a fraction too long. He noticed.

“Cold feet?”

“Just thinking,” I said, pushing the thoughts away and pulling the door open. “Let’s go.”

Inside, the car was exactly what I expected: expensive leather, monogrammed seats, blacked-out windows. Everything polished to silence.

And then the scent hit me. That cologne that clung to Lavender like a second skin. It was everywhere, soaked into the leather and the air itself, as if someone had cracked open a bottle of him and let it spill.

My chest tightened. Even without him there, it felt like stepping straight into his shadow.

I pulled out my phone as Julian drove. I hadn’t tried to look into Lavender until this point because—

Well. I didn’t want to think of him.

But my thumb betrayed me, scrolling anyway. Google: Lavender Aquila.

More than 100,000 results.

Wow. Okay.

I skimmed—business owner, heir, family empire. Headlines about scandals. Rumors about children scattered across the map.

Of course.

I scoffed and dropped my phone face down on the leather. He was exactly what I imagined he’d be like.

Julian’s head tilted slightly, catching the sound. “Something wrong?”

“Tell me, Julian—are you a homegrown sycophant? Or newly inspired?”

His mouth twitched, like he couldn’t decide if I was amusing or pathetic. “Neither. I’m employed.”

“That’s a nice way of saying indoctrinated.”

“It’s a practical way of saying I don’t waste energy biting the hand that signs my checks.”

“Or choking me with debt,” I muttered.

Julian flicked a glance at me over the rims of his sunglasses, sharp but calm. “Careful. You keep talking like that and you’ll convince yourself you’re the victim.”

Heat climbed up my throat, hot and defensive. “You think I’m not?”

“I think,” Julian said evenly, “that you’re smart enough to know what game you stepped into. And smart enough to stop pretending Lavender’s the kind of man you can underestimate.”

There was no edge to his voice, just fact. Unshakable, matter-of-fact loyalty.

The words dug under my skin anyway. “Sounds like worship.”

Julian’s mouth tightened, though he didn’t look away from the road. “It’s not worship. It’s memory. Some of us remember the night he pulled us out of the water.”

The air in the SUV felt heavier for a beat, the scent of Lavender’s cologne pressing down on me. I wanted to say something sharp, but the weight in Julian’s tone kept me quiet.

The drive carried us into the business quarter — steel and glass catching the afternoon light, streetcars humming by, vendors shouting over the scent of roasting chestnuts.

We pulled up in front of a building I recognized instantly. Aquila Innovations.

Even I’d heard of it — one of the most profitable tech companies on the island, famous for their encryption systems. I’d studied their public code releases once, late nights with Sabine and Ando.

The idea that Lavender owned this place didn’t surprise me. But it still hit.

Julian led me inside. The lobby was vast, all marble and dark glass, with a suspended LED sculpture above the front desk. Employees in sleek lanyards moved past us without a glance, though I caught a few eyes lingering on me. They always did.

We took the elevator up — high enough that my ears popped. Julian said nothing the entire ride.

When the doors slid open, he guided me down a quiet hallway into a conference room lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. The view looked out over the city and the harbor, the mix of Japanese rooftops, Spanish plazas, and New York–style skyscrapers blending into one seamless skyline.

Lavender was at the head of the long table, suit jacket off, white shirt sleeves rolled up. His eyes locked on me the moment I stepped in.

“Kier Begonia,” he said, like he’d been saying it for years.

I sat opposite him, and he slid a manila folder across the table. “This is what we know about you.” His voice was calm, measured. “But it’s not the same as speaking to the individual in person.”

I didn’t touch the folder. “Then let’s skip the part where you recite my life to me and go straight to my terms.”

His brow ticked upward in mild amusement. “Go on.”

“One,” I said, “a clear contract stating the debt will be paid in exactly five years from today. No extensions. No interest hikes.”

“Mm.”

“Two. I do only the work outlined in the contract. Translation, possible travel, maybe some coding. Nothing outside of that scope without renegotiation.”

Lavender’s gaze didn’t waver. “And three?”

I met his eyes. “This stays professional. I won’t fall for you, so don’t try. Let’s keep it clean.”

Say it out loud, and maybe it’ll hold.

Something sharp flickered in his eyes before he leaned back in his chair, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. “Deal.”

He turned to Julian. “Finalize it.”

Julian made a note, sliding the folder back toward himself. Lavender looked at me again. “You start tomorrow. Pack your things tonight — you’ll be moving into my estate.”

I didn’t bother hiding my frown. “And if I refuse?”

He smiled — slow, deliberate. “You won’t.”

⸻

By the time I stepped back out onto the street, the card with the address for his estate was in my pocket.

The black SUV pulled away, leaving me on the curb with nothing but the weight of it pressing against my chest.

The ride back to my apartment blurred. Neon signs flickered past the window, street vendors shouted in three different languages, and all I could think about was the faint trace of Lavender’s cologne that still clung to my clothes, stubborn as smoke.

There wasn’t much to pack. A couple of shirts, jeans, a few books, notebooks full of code and fragments of half-started translations. The essentials of a life that had never really fit into one place.

I moved through my tiny apartment mechanically, folding, stacking, shoving things into a battered duffel. The room was silent except for the scrape of hangers and the faint hum of the fridge.

It should have been easy. Quick. Clean.

Instead, it felt heavier with every item I touched.

The photo tucked behind the lamp — me, Mina, Ando, Sabine at the café, all grins and mismatched cups. A ticket stub from a film I barely remembered but hadn’t thrown away. A cracked mug Lyel had once given me as a joke, chipped but still sitting on the shelf.

Things that didn’t belong in Lavender’s world. Things that felt like mine.

I pressed the photo flat into the duffel between shirts before I could change my mind. Zipped it shut, the sound too final in the small room.

I stood there a moment longer, staring at the four walls I’d called home. The paint was peeling. The sink dripped. The window didn’t lock right. But it was mine.

And tomorrow, it wouldn’t be.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***