Chapter One: The Unexpected Invitation
903 Words
The air inside the flower shop was heavy with the scent of fresh roses and soft piano music playing through a dusty speaker by the counter. Amelia Carson wiped her hands on her apron, smearing soil across the beige fabric, and looked out through the glass door. Another ordinary Tuesday in New York with grey skies, busy streets, and dreams far out of reach.
She had no idea her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t imagine.
At twenty-three, Amelia had mastered the art of getting by. Between her shifts at the flower shop and the evening baking job at her aunt’s small café, she managed to pay rent and stay out of trouble. Romance? That belonged to the glossy pages of the novels she secretly read on her lunch breaks. Men like the ones in those books didn’t exist in her world.
Until one walked in.
The bell above the door jingled. She looked up and her breath caught.
He was tall, dressed in a sharp black coat over a dark grey turtleneck, and wore his confidence like a designer suit. His features were sharp, like they had been carved by a sculptor with a taste for perfection. His dark eyes scanned the shop with calm detachment before settling on her. Amelia’s stomach flipped.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice low and smooth like jazz.
“Good afternoon” she replied, wiping her palms on her apron again. “Welcome to Garden Bloom.”
“I need flowers,” he said, glancing at the roses by the window. “A birthday bouquet. Something elegant.”
She stepped out from behind the counter, trying to keep her nerves in check. “Any preferred colors?”
“Something white. Clean. Beautiful. Like snow.”
Amelia moved toward the lilies, selecting a few stems and pairing them with white roses. He watched her quietly, arms crossed, face unreadable. She pretended not to notice, but every second under his gaze felt like a secret being uncovered.
“You work here alone?” he asked suddenly.
“During the day, yes. My boss takes over in the evenings.”
“You’re good with flowers.”
“I try,” she said, arranging the bouquet quickly.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You don’t look like someone who belongs behind a flower counter.”
She looked up at him, startled. “What does that mean?”
He smiled just slightly. “It means I see more in you than petals and thorns.”
Her heart beat faster so much so, she wanted to hold her heart. She was Speechless and ran towards finishing the order.
Once she finished the bouquet, she wrapped it in cream-colored paper and handed it to him. “That’ll be forty-two dollars.”
He pulled out a sleek black card, but paused before swiping. “Do you like parties, Miss…?”
“Carson. Amelia Carson,” she said.
He raised a brow. “Amelia. Would you like to attend a party with me? Tonight.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m attending a charity gala at the Empire Grand Hotel. I need a plus-one.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why me?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her. “Why not you?”
Amelia looked down at her apron, her chipped nails, the flower petals stuck to her jeans. “I don’t belong in that world.”
“I’ll take care of everything you need and want. Dress, transport, entrance. All you have to do is show up and look beautiful.” He paused. “Which doesn’t seem like it’ll be a problem, or does it?”
She swallowed hard. This had to be a joke. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
He extended a hand. “Nathaniel Blackwood please.”
Her hand hovered for a second before she shook his. His grip was firm, his skin warm.
Nathaniel Blackwood. The name was familiar to her ears. A Billionaire CEO. One of New York’s most private, powerful, and impossibly rich men to meet.What the hell was he doing in her shop? Thinking of asking his identity.
Before she could process anything else, he leaned in and whispered, “I’ll send a car at seven. Don’t be late.”
And just like that, he was gone.
The bell jingled behind him as he walked out, bouquet in hand, leaving behind the scent of cologne and confusion.
Amelia stared at the door for a full minute. Her fingers tingled from his handshake. Her heart thudded in her chest like it had forgotten how to beat right.
This had to be a dream. Some weird, strange, twisted dream.
But when a sleek envelope arrived hours later, hand-delivered by a man in a suit, containing an invitation and a handwritten note saying “Wear the dress inside”. See you at seven. She knew it was real.
She opened the box.
Inside was a black silk dress, soft as air, and a pair of sparkling heels that probably cost more than her rent.
Amelia sat on her bed, staring at the outfit.
She didn’t know this man. She didn’t know his world. And yet, something in her chest said: *Go.*
But one question burned through her mind as she clutched the inv
itation and stared at the clock ticking toward 7:00 p.m.
Why would a billionaire want me?
- Writer
