As my day was ending, I was stressed, though I knew I would soon be home. However, I had to go shopping first. We didn't have any pumpkins yet, and the boys wanted pumpkin cakes for Thanksgiving. We also needed bread for the turkey stuffing, and I had a specific type in mind – one of the few I could actually eat.
I didn't have time to bake my own, and the stuffing needed dried crumbs so it would soak up the moisture without becoming a soggy mess. Using store-bought bread would be fine, as we could let it dry for a few days before grinding it.
I wasn't even thinking about Number Five or what he was up to; if he was involved, he would be at work like everyone else, not bothering me. Lepard hadn't told me much, sensing my irritation through the hive mind and not wanting me to snap at him, as he had no idea why I was so annoyed.
Oh, there were multiple reasons: the stupid flower merchandisers who tried to rob me, and then all the annoying calls from different businesses who had learned a potential new client was available. This meant offers for security, electricity, advertising, postage, and so on. I was about to lose it, constantly saying no on the phone.
It seemed every time my phone rang, someone was trying to sell me something, and it was never cheap. Adam's business was actually part of this; it was his side business, but he mostly acted as a consultant, directing from his desk, since he didn't have time for actual work. He had made sure our house, my shop, and our other properties were secure.
The girls were handling the ads and internet tasks, which were also part of their job. They were social media influencer interns, so they needed a project, and Mom's business was perfect. It would bring in more customers and boost the online shop, which meant more stress for me: more flowers, more postage. Fortunately, the girls were handling that too.
Those who had worked in fast food were now taking half-day jobs at a firm that specialized in postage, and they were learning as interns, which made it cheaper for me. Having your own business is not easy or simple; it's a jungle of this and that, with so many things to handle.
But hey, I had been the leader of the biggest paramilitary resistance organization for over two or three centuries, so I could handle this. As stressful as it was, it had its perks. I loved flowers, and this was the ultimate place for me to be.
My other irritations, however, stemmed from within. As I was pregnant, I, of course, couldn't just feel fine; I had morning sickness. It wasn't severe enough to make me vomit, but it was enough to prevent me from eating anything until around 12:30 PM. Since I woke up and started my day at 5 AM, I could maybe have a cup of coffee or a smoothie, but not much else until that time, and sometimes even later. Consequently, my blood sugar would drop, causing headaches and irritability.
To my luck, this was usually the time when customers flooded in. Thankfully, I had little snacks available: fried skin with crispy fat, small cakes, and Coca-Cola, as well as coffee. Snacking on these gave me a little more energy. Surprisingly, many people were still buying bags of compost or even mulch, requiring me to walk, lift, and carry things. It seemed people had greenhouses, warm rooms, and places to grow even in the winter.
This kept me on my feet almost constantly, burning away my snacks. Weekends were the same; when I got home, my life revolved around eating to replenish my reserves, and I would eat pretty much constantly, all kinds of snacks and whatnot. Charles hadn't found any preventative cure for my morning sickness or lack of appetite, so I just had to tolerate it and hope that it would lessen at some point, as it was a longer pregnancy.
With a little less than an hour left of my opening hours, Lepard said he would arrive early and might lend a hand if needed. He was already driving, and the girls were in the car too, as their shift had already ended. Of course, there was space in my shop, and I had some leftover coffee, buns, and biscuits if they wanted a snack.
I had my own snacks as I crafted a few bouquets for the next day, but usually, my luck would be that someone would come in and buy them, leaving me without any ready-made bouquets for tomorrow, meaning I would have to come in early to make more, as they were quite popular.
Charles had given me written instructions on how to price my bouquets, and I wasn't going to challenge him; instead, I used his little equation, which he had programmed on my laptop and tablet. So far, no one had complained about my prices; on the contrary, they kept saying how much cheaper my shop was compared to those in Roseau.
I had just finished arranging three beautiful bouquets—one with yellow roses, one with pink roses, and one with white roses—when a group of young, tall men walked in. They were jocks from the local schools, the kind of young studs who often had girls hanging around.
Apparently, these girls had told them about me because they seemed interested in buying flowers and chatting. They were a young group, maybe sixteen to twenty-two years old, and there were at least seven of them. They quickly noticed my coffee and biscuits and bought those too, beginning to eat.
The money was good, and as I started assembling a few more bouquets, the boys chatted with me. My station was positioned slightly sideways from the door, allowing me to hear it open, but not see directly.
As I was reaching for my greens from the cabinet, I overheard girls chattering, "Oh, Lepard must have arrived, bringing girls with him."
As I turned around, I bumped right into Number Five, who had moved like a ghost behind me. I gasped softly, clutching the greens in my hands.
"Oh, you are here..." I managed to say.
I could see Leopard standing tall and broody, watching the boys and ensuring they didn't even glance at me.
"Something to tell me, baby? Your new friends, maybe?" Number Five's voice was a soft murmur with a hint of steel, a tone he rarely used with me.
"They are just locals, no worries. Please, I need to make my bouquets..." My mouth felt dry.
He placed his hand over my belly, and I could feel the warmth of his magic.
He whispered, "Five, baby, there are five little ones here. You have been naughty, unloaded, eh?"
I nodded, knowing five babies meant a hell of a workload.
He took the greens from my hand and said, "Sit down, and allow me; I'll get those bouquets ready for you, baby."
The boys chuckled, hearing him call me "baby" in his soft, dangerous voice. They were now getting up and walking over to look at the ready-made bouquets and pick them out.
One of them, the tallest, who looked like a linebacker with his buffed upper body, asked, "I need something for my girl, something ethereal. She is like a fairy, slender, tiny."
His gaze traveled all over my body. Lepard walked up to me, grabbed me, and kissed me deeply and for a long time. Then, Number Five started talking to the boy, showing him different flowers like a professional. I could feel him digging into my mind, accessing information about flowers, as well as my visions of arrangements and what I had seen from others.
Finally, Lepard let me go, but he seemed irritated, likely from a mix of jealousy, exhaustion, and possessiveness. Just then, I noticed a small group of crones entering.
"Oh, perfect," I muttered to Lepard. "See those ladies? They're Charles's fan club."
I showed him my reservation book, "See? Charles got all these orders for himself by charming everyone and making a few arrangements."
Lepard grunted, straightened himself, and proceeded to introduce himself to the crones as one of my husbands, adding that I would soon have five babies.
"Oh great," I thought, "soon the whole town will know."
But perhaps this was how life was supposed to be, where my biggest worry wasn't Sark or Krycheck, but crones knowing too much about my business and my life. Not bad, not at all. As soon as he had moved on to talk to someone else, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but I had to answer, as it could be the flower delivery guy or someone else related to the shop.
I answered with, "Blooms and Blossom, Mimi Salvatore speaking."
The voice on the other end said, "Hello there. I am Juliet Magnuson from Tripeaks Electricity, and I was phoning to tell you about our newest superb offer for small businesses."
"Oh my god, not another one of these!" I rolled my eyes.
May walked by and, to my surprise, began talking to Number Five about something. He then strode over to me, took the phone, and in a soft but firm voice, explained coolly, yet politely, that I already had an electricity plan and would prefer not to receive any more spam calls. He emphasized the word "spam" with a subtle hint of annoyance, prompting the woman to end the call quickly.
Number Five kept my phone, looked through my call log, and asked, "How many?"
I replied, "Too many, but I have to answer because I've put in bids on certain auctions, and the shop number is on the website, so it could be a client."
He pursed his lips and said, "From now on, I'll ask Adam or Charles to find a program that blocks these spammers as soon as they call, so you can immediately tell if it's a spammer, a client, or a seller. There are programs for that, you know."
I said, "I'm not sure if those apps are so reliable."
He nodded, replying, "They are, once you get the right one, and I'll make sure you get the right one. Give me your wrist."
I gave him my wrist, and he sank his fangs into the meaty part of my arm, which was much more painful.
As he drank my blood, he said, "Let me guess, morning sickness, loss of appetite, stress? Am I close?"
Boys from high school were eagerly watching; vampires, despite being real, were not common in our little town, so seeing one drink blood was a spectacle. Consequently, Number Five was practically a celebrity, and the most muscular of the boys even asked him to drink his blood, wanting others to witness it. Several others volunteered as well. This caused Number Five to roll his eyes, which was amusing since he usually kept his expressions so controlled.
Lepard walked over to me and said, "From what I can see, 254 and 365 have started laying. There are three viable results, and everything looks good. The powder helped with 66, 34, and 123."
I nodded. We were, of course, talking about our snakes and their clutches, but Number Five raised his brow as he approached, after having given the boys a nice set of fang marks.
"Care to elaborate on what the hell you're talking about?" he asked.
I replied, "Later, I'll show you at home."
May came to me, saying, "Mom, remember we need that bread for the filling?"
I nodded and said, "Ideally, it would be on sale from yesterday, but it's quite popular and rarely left. Don't worry, I have my list with me."
Number Five practically hissed in my ear, "I'm clearly not up-to-date, wife dear. Want to share with the rest of the class?"
I looked him in the eye, letting my alpha power flow out, and said, "I said later. I'm pack leader for the next two weeks, so mind your tongue."
Number Five retorted, "Oh baby, you just have to challenge me. Let's see how long you're de facto pack leader once the rest of the Salvatores get on board."
I confidently replied, "You can't do anything or say a word, as you feel. Only those who wake up and ask the right questions will get answers and get on board; no one else. And this wasn't my plan or my idea, but 'upstairs'."
Meanwhile, Lepard was talking with the boys, who were now examining my crystals, while some of the girls, being wannabe witches, used sage and crystals and things – being Wiccan, more or less.
Number five also noticed this and walked over to examine the stones. He began to explain them to his audience. I was uncertain whether he would actually start working or if he would continue to pester me. I hoped he would simply begin working smoothly, get on with it, and accept my position as pack leader, especially since Charles was absent.
The earliest Charles could challenge this would be the following week, during Thanksgiving, when everyone would be on holiday, specifically next Monday, when we returned to work, and I had my official sonogram.
Finding five babies meant they would most likely classify my pregnancy as high-risk, potentially affecting my insurance premiums even further. However, I would also receive child allowance for each baby, as well as five maternity packets. Although we had a lot of baby items, these packets would still be useful. There's really no such thing as having too many clothes for babies, and considering how messy babies can be, if I didn't use every garment on my first litter, I would definitely need a lot of clothes.
As I refocused on preparing my shop for closing after the boys had finished their shopping, I was still lost in my thoughts when number five approached me.
He said, "Take a deep breath, you're all tensed up and worrying too much, my baby. We will get by. I will help. We will make sure. I will take a look at your insurance and other finances to see if anything needs to be done. You are not alone; you are part of the family, which means we are all here for you. It's not you against society; it is family time."
I was a little unsure about him because he wasn't usually so affectionate. He had always been somewhat reserved, but then again, he had a difficult past. Over the recent years, I had learned how hard it had been for them being stored in those objects and how much it had affected them.
Mariella had used her allure to her advantage, offering them something new. Since she embodied their ideal fantasy, it wasn't difficult to initially captivate them. However, the reality of our lives, Damon's and mine, eventually surfaced in their minds, causing some to pull away from Mariella. Yet, she cheated to win them back.
Could I repeat this process? Could I trust one of them, one Salvatore, and expose my heart again, only to have Mariella tear it away? I was uncertain, completely unsure. Perhaps my emotional scars were still too fresh to fully trust him or to believe that Mariella wouldn't steal him from me.
Number Five interjected, "Shush, don't start with your neurotic tendencies. We'll take it one day at a time, enjoy the present moments, and not worry about what might happen. Remember how Number One used to jinx himself by dwelling on potential problems? We're not going to do that. Now, my baby, let's close this lovely little flower shop and go get whatever is on your list. I can help you decide what to eat, and if we can find something even more suitable. And you can tell me more, as I'm still catching up."
His voice was calm, and his gaze was honest. I remembered the few days I had with him, how he seemed to loosen up before Mariella inevitably attacked. Maybe he was reaching for me too much, and I should let him open up a bit more.
I might be a fool, a big one, for allowing my heart to be burned again, but I seemed to be the biggest masochist imaginable. And so, there I was once more, letting a Salvatore back into the husk of my heart, hoping that love might, just maybe, heal me even a little. Only time would tell.