The flowers arrived on a Tuesday, no card, no note, just three dozen white peonies filling her studio doorway so completely the delivery driver had to hand them over in two trips.
Elena stood there staring at them for a long moment before she understood who they were from. She didn't need a card. Nobody else in her life sent flowers like this — extravagant, unnecessary, the kind of gesture that cost more than most of her clients' entire floral budgets.
She called him before she'd even brought them inside.
"I said no gestures," she said, the second he picked up.
"I didn't say anything." Damian's voice had the particular careful lightness of a man who knew exactly what he'd done and was hoping to talk his way around it anyway. "I believe the exact words were, don't manage me, don't fix t
