Page 85 of Worth the Scandal
Chapter Thirty Nine - Scarlett
It’s raining when I walk into the Maroon Management office.
I spent the morning doing the things she loved, I’ve been to the botanical gardens. We’d walk around aimlessly there for hours when I was in high school. One time I had the shittest day, one of the mean girls told the whole school I got my period and everyone was snickering and laughing whenever I went to the bathroom. I called mum and she came and signed me out early. We got ice cream, saw a movie at the IMAX and it was one of the best days I’ve ever had. So every year on the anniversary of her death I relive that day.
I shake off my umbrella, brushing rain from my coat, juggling my bag and a smoothie, and trying not to step on the delivery guy unloading boxes at the elevator. I’ve got in at around lunch time everyone who shares the office space with us should be out on lunch, which means I’ll get a good hour of peace now. Making some crucial calls before my afternoon of meetings and then I’ll probably head home and watch one of her favourite movies too. ProbablyPretty Womanbecause‘Mr I’m getting on a plane, and I’ll be there but hasn’t showed up’ has tainted Double Jeopardy.
I almost miss it.
The smell hits me first.
Roses—weird. Someone must have a candle lit.
Then I turn the corner, and I’m stopped in my tracks, my eyes are deceiving me—there’s no way.
The office is covered in them.
Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Arranged in clear vases, tucked into windowsills, perched along every available surface like the city itself has bloomed overnight.
Yellow Roses,theinfamous yellow roses I’ve received the last two years on mum’s anniversary.
Jen peeks her head out of the side office. I give her a knowing look, I knew it would’ve been Jen this whole time, why didn’t she ever own up to it. God, this must’ve cost her a bomb, she’ll need a good Christmas bonus.
“Don’t look at me.” She says shrugging her shoulders and eyeing Shell.
“Shell?” I whisper.
“She said she was sworn to secrecy.”
I step forward, breath caught in my throat, who is my anonymous flower deliverer—and then I see him.
Standing in the centre of the room, in jeans and a plain white tee like he’s not casually undoing me in front of my own staff.
Asher.
No, but how? I hadn’t heard from him since his outburst, so I didn’t think he was serious about flying in.
“Hi, Scar.”
My bag hits the floor. I drop the smoothie cup. Smoothie flies everywhere flicking on desks and office doors as it hits the ground dramatically.
He steps forward, hands in his pockets, eyes soft and sure. Have I told him about the roses? I must have.
“You told me not to come back here,” he says. “But I realised something. You weren’t asking me to stay away. You were asking if I’d fight for you.”
Tears hit my cheeks before I can stop them. I wipe them away, I am laughing now—through the tears streaming, they are rolling down my heated cheeks at a crazy pace.
“I got the week off from the Ridgebacks, they’re telling the media I’m injured this week which means a week ofjust… us. Your dad threatened to waterboard me again if I didn’t get my scrawny ass out here, so here I am coach’s orders.”
I shake my head, heart breaking open. “You’re crazy.”
“Only about you.”
And then he opens his arms. And I fall into them.
I take a huge whiff in again, the roses. I pull back and stare into those ocean eyes. “H -how did you know about the yellow roses? I never told you, did I?”
“Scar who do you think sent them?”
