Chapter 7 - The Woman Nobody Laughed At
One year later, I stood in my greenhouse surrounded by white roses.
Daniel carried boxes through the back door.
“Those go by the entrance.”
“I know.”
“You put the last ones in the wrong place.”
“I was following Adrian's instructions.”
“That explains it.”
“Hey.”
Adrian entered carrying coffee.
His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up.
Daniel pointed at him.
“You're terrible at flowers.”
“I run shipping companies.”
“Flowers require intelligence.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Your father insults me every morning.”
“You kept inviting him.”
“Because apparently I'm stupid.”
Daniel grinned and disappeared outside.
Adrian handed me coffee.
“Ready?”
“For?”
He looked toward the greenhouse doors.
Marcus opened them.
Outside stood dozens of people.
Employees.
Friends.
Families we'd helped through the charity.
People who knew me as Grace Carter, owner of Carter Floral Design.
Not the poor florist.
Not the entertainment.
Not the woman expected to kneel.
Just Grace.
Adrian touched my hand.
“I've been thinking about our first night.”
“Which terrible part?”
“The moment you told me exactly what you thought of me in front of two hundred people.”
“I was accurate.”
“You were.”
“And?”
“I think that was the first honest thing anyone had said to me in years.”
I looked at him.
“You deserved worse.”
“Probably.”
He smiled.
“Then you picked up that pistol.”
“And humiliated Marcus.”
“His therapist says he's improving.”
From outside, Marcus shouted, “I can hear you!”
I laughed.
Adrian became serious.
“I spent most of my life thinking strength meant making people afraid to challenge me.”
He glanced toward Daniel.
“Your father understood something mine never managed to teach me.”
“What?”
“Sometimes the person willing to challenge you is exactly the person you need beside you.”
He reached into his pocket.
I stared at him.
“Adrian.”
“Relax.”
He pulled out a small velvet box.
“That is universally the opposite of relaxing.”
He opened it.
A ring.
Simple.
Elegant.
I looked from it to him.
“Is this another bet?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Because you've beaten me enough.”
I smiled.
He didn't kneel.
That was somehow perfect.
He simply stood in front of me as an equal.
“Grace Carter, will you marry me?”
I folded my arms.
“You forgot something.”
His face fell.
“What?”
“You haven't asked my father's permission.”
Daniel's voice came from outside.
“He did!”
I stared past Adrian.
Daniel waved.
“Three weeks ago!”
“Traitor!”
Adrian laughed.
I looked back at the ring.
Then at the man holding it.
A year earlier, I'd walked into his house carrying buckets of roses because I needed the money.
I'd been invisible.
Then Whitman Cole broke a vase.
Adrian made a stupid bet.
I picked up a gun.
And somehow that ridiculous chain of events gave me back my father, gave me the courage to build my own company, and brought me here.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“You're making me nervous.”
“Good.”
“Grace.”
“Yes.”
He froze.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
For once, Adrian Moretti had absolutely nothing clever to say.
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
Outside, everyone cheered.
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
He pointed toward me.
“But I'm requesting one condition before the wedding.”
“What?”
“No shooting contest.”
Daniel appeared behind him.
“Coward.”
Marcus sighed.
“Daniel, she beat me three times.”
“Four.”
Marcus stared at me.
“When was four?”
I smiled.
“Practice range. Last Tuesday.”
Adrian started laughing.
Marcus walked away muttering something about retirement.
I leaned against Adrian.
He looked down at me.
“Any regrets?”
I considered it.
“Just one.”
“What?”
“I should've charged you for that first broken vase.”
Adrian smiled.
“I'll pay double.”
“No.”
I kissed his cheek.
“You can't afford it.”
And somewhere behind us, my father laughed.
One year earlier, I'd entered the Moretti ballroom as the woman nobody noticed.
Then they laughed at me.
They told me to pick up a gun.
They expected me to kneel.
May you like
I never did.
And nobody in Adrian Moretti's house ever asked me to again
