haven’t really been living the most stable life.”
“We wanted to ask you if something was wrong,” her father explained. “But when you weren’t willing to come to us or even tell us what was happening, there wasn’t really any way for us to help you.”
“Well, I don’t need help for anything anymore,” Aurora said, realizing the truth of the words as she spoke them. “I’m in better shape now than I have been in years.”
“As long as you’re healthy and happy, that’s as much as we can ask of you,” Aurora’s mother said. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you—to really hear from you about how your life is going. Please keep us posted, sweetie.”
“I will,” Aurora promised. “But now I’ve got that off of my chest, I need to run. I have a meeting.”
“All right, hon,” her father said. “Give us a call when you have time to talk.”
Aurora swore that she would, and ended the call. For a moment she stood on the balcony, looking out onto the Miami streets, onto the boats down at the marina. At the great height of Khaleel’s penthouse apartment, the city looked almost dreamy—certainly not the gritty, dirty land of struggle and hustle that she had come to know so intimately.
She took a deep breath and slipped her phone back into her pocket, relieved that the call had gone as well as it had. She may not know what Khaleel had in mind for her; but she knew that he clearly didn’t intend to just leave her on her own now that he had solved the immediate problem of Jon.
Aurora turned back to the door and stepped through it, looking to find Khaleel, still seated in his chair. “I poured you another tea,” he said when she closed the door behind her.
“I had to call my parents,” Aurora said. “Dad texted me a few days ago…the day I stowed away on your yacht, actually. I wanted them to know I was okay.”
Khaleel nodded. “I thought it would be something like that. Did you let them know you’re no longer on the run from a loan shark?”
Aurora smiled sheepishly. “I never really told them I was running in the first place,” she admitted. “But I did tell them that I was fine, that I’m not going back to med school, and that I have some kind of plan for the future.” She pressed her lips together. “Even if I don’t really know what that plan is.”
Khaleel chuckled. “We can talk about that in a moment,” he told her. “First, I have a present for you.”
Aurora’s eyes widened. “A present?” she sat down on the couch, looking at Khaleel incredulously. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
Khaleel stood and smiled mischievously, walking back towards the kitchen, and Aurora watched him intently. What gift could be better than him giving her freedom? What could possibly top his dramatic rescue?
He came back into the room bearing a small box, no larger than his palm, tied with a curling, ornate ribbon. “Here it is,” he said. He extended it to her and sat down on the couch as soon as Aurora accepted it.
She looked at the simple, beautiful box for a moment, admiring the ribbons, tingling all over with anticipation. She found the longer tail of one of the trailing ribbons and tugged it, untying the knot.
She laid the box on her lap and carefully lifted the lid. Aurora hadn’t formed any expectations of what might be within the parcel—but even if she had, she would never have expected to see the very same flower that the wind had blown off of her dress the night before. Aurora stared at it for what seemed to her like a long time, unable to quite believe what she was seeing.
“But—but it came off,” she said finally, shaking her head and tearing her gaze away from the bloom to look at Khaleel. “How did you find it? It went in the water.”
Khaleel chuckled. “Last night I talked to some of the members of my crew, some employees here on the mainland, and some very expensive experts,” he said.
“But how did you find another one? How did they?” Aurora shook her head, unable to credit the possibility. The flower that Khaleel had bought for her was already mounted on a pin, ready to be attached to her shirt. “I’d never seen another flower like it anywhere else.”
“They are rare,” Khaleel admitted. Glancing at her for permission, he lifted the flower out of the box and carefully pinned it to the front of her shirt, just above her pocket. “But not impossible to find. Stephanotis Floribunda, it’s apparently called.”
Aurora looked down at the flower at her breast and tried to decide how she felt; on the one hand, she was relieved that the flower she had used to separate herself, to set herself apart from everyone else she saw on the street, was back in place. On the other, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at the fact that it was no longer unique.
“I found it growing in this little abandoned lot near my apartment building,” Aurora said, carefully stroking the petals. “I have no idea where that plant came from, but I never saw anyone else take flowers from it. I thought it was unique.” She half-frowned, half-smiled, and looked at Khaleel. “I’m grateful you found another one, but also kind of bummed that it’s not as special as I thought.”
Khaleel chuckled. “You are special without the flower,” he told her. “What makes you unique has nothing to do with a rare decoration you’re wearing, Aurora.”
“Why?” Aurora met Khaleel’s gaze, curious.
“Because what sets you apart is your will, your intelligence, your courage and your beauty,” Khaleel said, smiling slowly. “You think you look like dozens of other women in Miami, but I’ve been around the world, Aurora, and I can tell you that you aren’t like any other woman. You don't need a trinket—even a beautiful flower like that—to assert your difference from everyone else.” For a few heartbeats, Aurora stared at him, shocked and touched by his words.
The next instant, acting on impulse, Aurora leaned in, throwing her arms around Khaleel’s shoulders, and pressed her lips to his. Khaleel’s hands slid along her back, holding her close for a long moment as they kissed. Aurora found herself almost immediately breathless, her head spinning, her heart beating faster in her chest as she lost herself in the feeling of his arms around her, the heat of his body sinking into her, the smell of his soap and cologne filling her nose.
Khaleel broke away after what felt like an hour, and Aurora pulled back, struggling to catch her breath, to slow the rabbit-fast pounding of her heart.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Khaleel told her with amusement and mischief rippling through his voice. “That gift has a string attached to it.”
Aurora looked at him sharply. “It does?”