Crossfire Vows

The rain came down in fierce sheets, distorting the traffic and converting the sidewalk to a river. Aria Drevan clutched the bouquet in her hand—white tulips, which she had ironically selected for peace, now drenched and wilting. Her umbrella had collapsed minutes before, a victim of the wind's viciousness. She pushed on through the storm, her silk dress plastered against her body.

It was meant to be a peaceful delivery. Flowers only. Nothing else.

Then came the splash. A wave of muddy water crashed against her from the side. Aria gasped, stumbling as her heels lost traction on the wet ground. The bouquet escaped her hands. Her dress, ivory and beautiful, was now streaked with earthy brown. She turned slowly, ice forming in her eyes.

A sleek black Bentley rolled to a stop, the tinted window lowering just enough to reveal a smug, impossibly handsome face. Dark hair, jawline like a blade, and the kind of arrogance that could be bottled and sold at luxury auctions.

Damien Cross. Today, of all days, he felt playful. He just wanted to be cheered up, and anything would do just fine. As he drove, He watched the lady ahead of him with a killing physique, "It's time to get laid," He veered into the gutter on purpose. Splash. "Target achieved," he murmured to himself.

He didn't apologize. He didn't look sorry. His mouth curled in the faintest smirk. "Watch where you're walking next time," he said lazily like she were just another commoner in his billion-dollar path. Then the window rolled back up. Damien waited, knowing the young lady would need assistance. Pretended like he was driving off, but what happened next is something he had not anticipated.

Aria stared at the car. She didn't think. She acted.

She snatched a jagged stone from the ground and hurled it unflinchingly towards the back. It slammed into the Bentley's windshield with a satisfying crack, spiderwebbing the glass. She was content; she smiled. "Let's see what you're gonna do now, bastard."

The car screeched to a halt. The door opened. And there he was—six feet of tailored fury, stepping into the rain as it bowed to him. Damien looked at his windshield, then at her, eyes narrowing. "Are you insane?" he barked, stepping closer.

Aria met his gaze, rain dripping from her lashes. "No, you didn't expect that, where is the smug now, dick head?" she said coolly. "I am just allergic to assholes."

His jaw ticked. "You damaged a seventy-thousand-dollar windshield."

"You ruined a dress worth half that," she shot back. "And a client's bouquet. Should I invoice you?" They stood face to face, water cascading around them, locked in a standoff —a lion and a lioness, neither wanting to back down.

"Do you even know who I am?" he asked, a voice dipped in amused threat. "Don't you know who you are?" She replied. lifting her chin, " I still wouldn't care if you were the king of Mars." A silence. Then, the faintest flicker of a smile tugged at his lips. "You're going to regret that."

She stepped forward. "And you're going to remember it."

The tension crackled between them like lightning overhead. Then Damien shook his head, gave her one last look, and returned to his car. This was not the way he had planned to end his evening at all.

The engine revved, and the Bentley disappeared into the storm.

Aria exhaled, adrenaline coursing through her. Her side ached from standing stiff in the cold, and her dress was ruined. But she didn't regret it. Not for a second.

Some men needed to be reminded that money didn't make them untouchable.

She turned, heading back toward her flower shop, Elysian Petals, where the real Aria lived behind the vases and smiles. There, her past had been buried under fresh blooms, where blood was washed away with rosewater, and silk hid steel.

By the time Aria reached the shop's back door, her hands were numb, and her shoes squelched with each step. She pushed inside, the warmth and quiet of Elysian Petals wrapping around her like a forgotten memory. The familiar scent of freesia and aged wood met her like an old friend.

Nova glanced up from the counter, brow lifting at the sight of her. "You're dripping on the orchids."

"Tell them it's holy water," Aria muttered, setting her ruined heels aside and unpinning her hair. Wet strands clung to her face as she moved past the vases and ribbon drawers to the back room.

Nova followed her, arms crossed. "What happened?"

"A Bentley," Aria said dryly. "And a jackass with too much money and not enough manners."

"I take it the delivery didn't go as planned." "Oh, the flowers got delivered. They just didn't survive the splash zone." She peeled off her dress and reached for the hoodie and leggings she kept in the locker. "Neither did my patience."

Nova grinned. "So… you do something stupid?" Aria pulled the hoodie over her head. "Define stupid." "Property damage?"

"Minor."

Nova's mouth twitched. "You smiled when you said that."

Aria sighed and sat down on the workbench, toweling off her hair. "I hit his car. With a rock." Nothing that bad for a billionaire.

"Like… tapped it?" Nova asked hopefully. "Cracked the windshield." There was a pause. Then: "God, I love you."

Aria chuckled, but the sound didn't quite reach her eyes. She leaned back against the wall, letting the exhaustion settle into her bones. "He didn't even apologize. Just smirked. Like I was invisible."

Nova studied her. "He won't forget you."

"Good."

Silence stretched between them, filled with the hum of the shop's old refrigerator and the gentle patter of rain on the rooftop.

Finally, Nova asked, "Want me to find out who he is?"

"No need," Aria said, voice quiet now. "He introduced himself with a smirk and a Bentley logo. It was Damien Cross."

Nova blinked. "As in CrossCorp?"

"As in, the man who probably thinks humility is a medical condition."

Nova whistled. "And you bricked his windshield. Girl, we're gonna make headlines."

Aria didn't respond. Her fingers traced the scar near her hip, one of the old ones. A reminder. She hadn't survived this long by being careless—but tonight, she'd let her temper bleed through. That wasn't good.

She needed to be calm. Invisible. Forgettable.

But Damien Cross had a way of clawing under her skin with just a look.

Aria stood. "Let's reroute tomorrow's orders. I want to double-check our cover clients. And Nova…" "Yeah?" "Make sure CrossCorp doesn't dig." Nova gave a sharp nod. "Got it."