All Chapters of Your Lips to Mine #2: The Billionaire's Secret Garden: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The days passed in a slow, almost deliberate rhythm, each one like a brushstroke painting an intricate, though uncertain, picture of Alexander Kane's presence in my life. The garden, my sanctuary, had become our unlikely meeting point, where words bloomed just as freely as the flowers. It was another afternoon when I found myself kneeling on the damp earth, carefully pruning the tulips that had begun to sprout their vibrant petals. The "midnight flame" tulip, my mother’s creation, seemed to demand more attention than the others. I ran my fingers along its delicate stem, tracing the veins of its deep, fiery bloom. For the past few weeks, Alexander had returned again and again, under the guise of admiring the flowers and learning more about the different varieties. Each time, I would welcome his presence with a smile, though I couldn’t ignore the strange tension that grew between us. What was it about his eyes? The way they seemed to linger on me, studying, understanding, yet hiding

The morning came quietly, with sunlight spilling through the lace curtains of my bedroom. Yet, the usual warmth it brought seemed distant today. I had barely slept, my mind turning over the same thoughts again and again, each one circling back to him. Alexander Kane. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see his face—calm yet intense, with that gaze that seemed to pierce right through me. And that smile... it was as if he knew something I didn’t, something I couldn’t unravel. I sat up, brushing my hair back and looking at the clock. Another day meant another round of tending to the garden, meeting customers, and pretending everything was normal. But it wasn’t. Not anymore. With a sigh, I made my way to the kitchen, brewing a cup of tea as I tried to steel myself. Yet, as I stared out at the garden, my heart ached. It wasn’t the flowers or the land causing this turmoil—it was the man who had somehow managed to step into my life and unsettle everything. I couldn’t do this

It was a quiet morning, the kind that carried a certain peace, one that hadn’t been present in the last few days. The shop had finally opened, and the soft hum of the city outside filtered through the windows, adding a gentle rhythm to the stillness within the walls. The tulips, as always, were in full bloom, their vibrant colors filling the space with life. But despite the normalcy of everything around me, my mind was still swirling. It had been for days now, ever since Alexander had come into my life and turned everything upside down. As I worked, I found myself distracted—my fingers brushing the delicate petals of the flowers as I carefully arranged them, my thoughts drifting back to our conversation earlier. The way he had waited outside my shop. The words he had said. “I’ll always wait for you, Sophia.” I still didn’t understand how someone like him—someone so... powerful, so rich, so important—could speak to me with such earnestness. And yet, he did. Each time we spoke, I cou

After the dinner date, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something in my life was starting to shift. The walls I had so carefully built around my heart were beginning to feel less like protection and more like a cage. Alexander—Alex, as he insisted I call him—was the cause of this disturbance, and I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or terrified. The shop was quiet that evening, the kind of silence that gave me too much room to think. I busied myself with tidying up, though everything was already in order. The soft chime of the door startled me, and I turned to see Alex standing there, looking somewhat out of place in my small, cozy world. “Alex?” I asked, trying to steady my voice. “Hi, Sophia,” he greeted, his tone casual, though his eyes held that familiar intensity. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” I raised an eyebrow. “Just closing up for the day. What brings you here?” He hesitated for a moment, as if debating how to word his next sentence. “I was wonderin

The bell above the door chimed incessantly, a cheerful symphony that marked the constant stream of customers entering and leaving the shop. The air was fragrant with the sweet, earthy aroma of tulips in every shade imaginable. Rows of pink, yellow, red, and the rare “Midnight Flame” filled the space, their vibrant colors brightening even the gloomiest winter day. I barely had a moment to breathe. Every time I turned around, someone was asking about the meanings of tulips, or pointing to a bouquet with eager eyes. My hands worked on autopilot, tying ribbons, wrapping stems, and jotting down orders. It was tulip season, and the annual Tulip Festival in the suburbs had brought in customers from near and far. From the moment I flipped the sign to “Open” at dawn, the rush began. Families wandered in, marveling at the blooms. Couples debated over which bouquet to gift. I saw children tugging at their parents’ sleeves, pleading for just one stem of their favorite color. It was heartwarmi