As soon as I open my door, I know my plan for the night isn’t going to happen. Immediately, I start to sneeze, and my eyes begin to water. The gladiolus, roses, snapdragons, and irises are all beautiful, but I’m allergic, and I have no idea how they ended up in my suite.
In a panic, I rush to my balcony to seek out some fresh air, tripping over a box on the floor. Holding my breath, I glance around and see every few feet there are black, blue and turquoise boxes all over my living room. I struggle to get the terrace door open, and once I do, I inhale dry air, which doesn’t do much for me. Thankfully, I had the wherewithal to hold onto my purse and am able to find an allergy pill to swallow with my newly bought bottle of water. “What the hell?” I mutter as I dial the front desk.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Weston?”
“Come get these damn flowers out of my house. It says right there in my file that I’m allergic, so I want to know who opened my door so the damn florist could try and kill me!”
“Um…”
“Um isn’t an answer. Come get these before I die.” I hang up the phone and squeeze my legs together as I battle through another round of sneezing. My eyes are sealing shut, and my nose is running. “I can’t believe someone would do this to me.” I’m on the verge of tears and desperate to be able to breathe.
After ten minutes and no bellhop, I contemplate climbing over the edge of the balcony and Spidermaning my way down to the front desk, but death isn’t high on my priority list right now. No, now I want to find and kill the person who did this to me.
“I give up.” I pull my jacket over my face and blindly head toward my door, hitting my head when I don’t stop in time. In the hall, the air is somewhat better, but not enough to stop the reaction. Inside the elevator, my reflection scares me. My face is red, eyes are puffy, and my nose is enlarged from the constant rubbing I’m doing. “I don’t know who hates me so much to do this!” I cry out, adding more insult to injury.
When I reach the bottom floor, I stalk toward the concierge, pointing to my face. “This! Do you see this face? What does it say when you pull up my suite? I’m pretty sure it’s in bold letters that Ms. Weston is allergic to flowers, and only plants should be allowed upstairs. So tell me why my apartment is full of flowers that make me look like this?”
“Ahem.”
I turn at the sound of a throat clearing to find Roman, the stalker vampire standing behind me with a bouquet of roses in his hands. They’re red and beautiful, and part of me wants to take them from him, but the other part, the angry part, steps forward and looks at him through my squinted watery eyes and reaches for the flowers. Roman hands them over with a smile.
“I hate you!” I say as I bash him over the head repeatedly with the flowers. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”
In his defense, he stands there and takes the beating, never flinching. Somewhere behind me, the staff is chuckling, and they’re lucky there aren’t more flowers at my quick disposal because I’d beat them as well.
11
Roman
As I wait in the lobby, I can’t help but be pleased with myself. I’ve not only showered her with gifts, but I’ve also paid attention. All the things I’m certain she likes. Suddenly, a blonde tornado flies out of the elevator yelling and throwing her hands in the air violently. When she catches my attention, she rushes at me like a Viking shield maiden. Her long locks swing violently behind her as she approaches, and when she grabs the flowers from my hand, I realize she is not happy, at all.
As she batters me with the roses, I take the hits, completely unsure of what they’re for. When the area is sufficiently strewn with rose petals, and she’s no longer thrashing the stems at me, she stops, huffing and wheezing before me.
“Why would you do this to me?” she demands as tears and snot run down her face.
“I thought it would make you happy,” I reply calmly, grabbing a handkerchief from my pocket. A habit I picked up many years ago, I almost always had one with me, even though I rarely needed it.
She slams the tattered stems on a nearby counter and takes the handkerchief from me, wiping her eyes and nose. “You thought poisoning me was something I would like? What the hell is wrong with you, Roman?”
Realizing now my research wasn’t nearly as thorough as I’d thought, I make a note to think about human ailments in the future. Who would have thought that a room full of beautiful flowers would do this to her? Certainly not me. “Fiona, I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you,” I plead, attempting to take her hand.
She snatches her hand back quickly. “I think I’ve had just about enough of you.” She turns to the nearby staff, all staring at her now. “Please send someone up to remove the flowers from my suite. Send them over to the church on Second Avenue.”
“I had no idea they would have this… effect on you. I am truly sorry that my gesture took a turn. Please, let me do something.” I do feel like an ass now, and I’m really not sure how to fix this other than to take her someplace where there are no flowers so she can recover from the episode. Allergies aren’t something I’ve ever dealt with in my lifetime; I can’t recall a time where a woman didn’t adore receiving them.
“Roman.” She sneezes into my handkerchief. “Roman, I don’t know what your game is, but I’m not playing. I already told you that I can’t help you. My father isn’t going to sign your papers. So, buying me a bunch of gifts, even if the flowers I am deathly allergic to were well-meaning, doesn’t change anything. I think you should just go.”
The thing is, her tone doesn’t suggest I should go. Her puffy swollen eyes, now bluer than the Greek Isles, are saying something completely different. They’re asking me to give her a reason I should stay. I fondle the jewelry box in my pocket that contains the ankh necklace I purchased earlier. It’s clear that now isn’t the right time to give it to her. That one I’ll wait on. It deserves the perfect moment, and this surely isn’t it.
“Fiona, let’s get some fresh air. You can’t go to your apartment while they’re cleaning it out, so how about a walk?”
She gives me an apprehensive look, but finally nods and walks with me silently. Once we get outside into the fresh air, she takes a deep breath. She appears to be less affected by the allergens now, but before I have the opportunity to apologize again, she begins.
“What were you thinking, Roman? Honestly? What’s with all the stuff? I don’t need any of it, and getting me things isn’t going to change the fact that I can’t help you.” She appears exasperated and heaves out a breath.
“Honestly, I was just trying to win your affections.”
“Win my affections? What on earth for?”