Thorns and Petals

CHAPTER 3: Unfinished Business

He didn’t notice her at first. His gaze was focused on the room, his expression calm, composed—like he belonged in a place like this. But the moment he finally turned and his eyes met hers, she saw the flicker of recognition.

And then came something else.

Shock.

Rose didn’t know what expression she wore, but Andrew’s face shifted—just slightly. A subtle tightening of his jaw, a brief hesitation in his step. He quickly masked it, smoothly taking a seat like nothing was amiss.

But it was.

Because the last time she had seen him, he was just an ordinary man in a luxurious event, chitchatting away together.

And now?

He was here. At a high-profile business meeting.

In a five-star hotel.

A hotel he looked a little too comfortable in.

Why was Andrew here?

Two Weeks Ago – The Night of the Event

After his important discussion with his parents and the shareholders at the event, Andrew leaned against the high-top table near the bar, idly swirling the drink in his hand. The shareholders had long since moved on from their discussion of expanding the hotel and incorporating high-end art installations.

The meeting had gone well—objectively speaking. His parents were pleased, the investors were interested, and everything had gone according to plan.

Except for one thing.

Rose never came back.

He had hoped to see her again—to settle the payment for the painting, at the very least. But more than that, he had wanted to get her number. He had spent longer than he cared to admit lingering in the hopes of catching another glimpse of her.

But the event ended, and she was gone.

Andrew sighed, setting his glass down. I’ll just visit the gallery when I have time.

But time had not been on his side.

The following days were consumed with responsibilities at his family’s hotel. Between handling the expansion project and dealing with an unexpected theft near his home, he had barely had a moment to breathe. Staying at the hotel had been the best option, given the circumstances.

Still, his mind often drifted to Rose.

At one point, he had considered asking Emily—who ran a successful luxury boutique—to visit the gallery in his place. She was good at handling delicate matters and could have settled the payment smoothly.

But that would mean missing the chance to see Rose again.

So he waited.

Until now.

And now?

She was right here.

And if the sharpness in her gaze was anything to go by—she had a lot of questions.

Andrew straightened in his seat, schooling his expression into one of polite interest as the meeting officially began.

But he knew one thing for certain.

He was going to have to explain himself.

Rose’s expression remained calm, composed—at least on the surface. But inside, she was reeling.

Andrew?

She forced herself to focus as Rosaline greeted the executives in the room, exchanging pleasantries before gesturing for everyone to take their seats. Rose followed her boss’s lead, settling into the chair beside her. Across the table, Andrew took his seat as well, looking as put together as ever in a tailored charcoal suit that only reinforced the growing suspicion in Rose’s mind.

He knew about this world all along.

She thought back to their first conversation at the gallery. He had let her talk—had let her joke about the luxury and grandeur of that event as if he were just another outsider. He had laughed, played along, and never once hinted at the fact that he belonged in that world. That his parents hosted the event.

Why didn’t he tell me?

She wanted to demand answers, but instead, she forced herself to turn toward Rosaline as the meeting officially began.

An older man with sharp features, whom Rosaline had addressed as Mr. Caldwell, spoke first.

“As you may already know, our expansion project will include a more refined art presence within the hotel,” he began, glancing around the table. “We’re interested in acquiring exclusive private paintings—not only for display in the main hotel areas but also for select VIP suites and lounges in a new, more private location we are currently developing.”

Rosaline nodded. “I see. So you’re looking for a large-scale acquisition?”

“Exactly,” another executive, Ms. Whitmore, chimed in. “The majority of the pieces will not be in a traditional gallery space. We need to ensure that not only are the prices fair for such a purchase, but also that the transportation and security measures are handled with absolute discretion.”

Rose listened carefully, her mind shifting into work mode despite her lingering thoughts about Andrew. This wasn’t just an ordinary art sale—this was a high-profile transaction that required careful handling.

Rosaline turned slightly toward her. “Rose, given your expertise, what would you recommend in terms of secure transport?”

Rose straightened in her seat, keeping her tone professional. “For a transaction of this scale, we would need insured private transportation with climate-controlled conditions to ensure the safety of the pieces. If discretion is a concern, it would be best to use unmarked transport services rather than anything that would indicate high-value cargo.”

Mr. Caldwell nodded approvingly. “That aligns with what we had in mind. However, considering the distance and the number of pieces involved, are there additional precautions you’d suggest?”

“We would need to track the shipments at every stage,” Rose continued. “And depending on the value of certain pieces, it may also be advisable to transport them in separate batches. That way, if any issue arises, the entire collection isn’t at risk.”

The conversation continued, with discussions about pricing, artist exclusivity agreements, and the legal aspects of transporting high-value artwork across different locations. Rose remained focused, answering questions and making detailed notes, but every so often, her gaze flickered toward Andrew.

He sat there, fully engaged in the discussion, speaking occasionally with the confidence of someone who belonged at this table. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became—he had deliberately hidden his background from her.

Why?

A few possibilities ran through her mind, but one theory stuck.

He’s a rich playboy who didn’t want me to know who he really was. Probably thought I’d sell him out to blogs if he toyed with me and I decided to sue.

The thought made her jaw tighten.

Fine. If that was the case, she didn’t need to entertain any further connection with him. She just needed to get the money he owed for the painting and move on.