"Pale purple," Dominic said, his dark eyes never leaving her face.

"Dominic," Victor said, his voice grating like gravel under a wheel. "They told me you were spending your afternoons in the garden."

Victor’s eyes slid past Dominic, landing on Nora, who stood behind the counter with her shears firmly in hand. Victor’s lip curled into a condescending smirk as he took in her flower-stained apron and simple navy dress.

"So this is the distraction," Victor purred, stepping toward the counter. "A little sweet shop girl. I was wondering what was keeping the great Vale off the waterfront this month."

Dominic stood up. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't pull a weapon. He simply stepped into Victor’s line of sight, blocking Nora entirely with his broad frame.

"You're off your territory, Victor," Dominic said, his tone dropping into a dangerous, icy register.

"I came to deliver a message," Victor sneered. "The dock lease on Pier 14 expires next week. My investors want it. We figured since you’re retiring to open a flower shop, you wouldn't mind surrendering the contract."

Nora’s voice suddenly rang out from behind Dominic, crisp and utterly devoid of fear.

"If you don't take your muddy boots off my clean floor in five seconds, sir, I am going to throw a bucket of dirty flower water directly into your face."

Victor froze, blinking in sheer disbelief. "What did you say to me?"

"You heard her," Dominic said, a dark smile touching the corners of his mouth. "And unlike me, she doesn't negotiate."

Victor stared at Nora, then looked at Dominic’s eyes—which were currently promising a slow, painful death if Victor so much as glanced her way again.

"This isn't over, Vale," Victor spat, turning on his heel and marching out of the shop, his two men scrambling after him.

The bell chimed shut.

Dominic turned back to Nora, expecting her to be trembling or demanding an explanation. Instead, she was holding a mop.

"He tracked mud all over the entrance," she grumbled, pushing the mop back and forth across the tile. "Who brings goons into a florist on a Tuesday?"

Dominic watched her, his heart beating with an unfamiliar, heavy rhythm. "You weren't afraid of him."

Nora paused, looking up at him with her warm brown eyes. "Dominic, I’ve handled angry brides, cheap landlords, and corrupt city inspectors for eight years. A man with a bad haircut and an expensive coat doesn't scare me."

"He's a murderer, Nora."

"And what are you?" she asked softly.