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It was a shop. A flower shop with a familiar name.
Fleurs Fiore.
“Another fucking flower shop,” Ryland cried. “Clever fuckers,” he said with vehemence. He was going to destroy whoever was behind this. “Flowers by Fiore in New York,Fleurs Fiorein Paris, just fucking plain ol’Fiorein Rome. These shops are everywhere.”
“And connected to this somehow,” Wilder said. “Let’s check it out.”
They got out of the car and made their way into the shop. The inside was very much the same as it had been in the New York shop. Lavish bouquets crowded the room, and the various blooms’ smells made him dizzy.
A short woman greeted them in French. By the looks she cast Wilder, she liked what she saw. He had that effect on people wherever he went, but, as always, Wilder was oblivious to it.
“Can I help you?” she asked in her native tongue.
Ryland, whose understanding of French wasn’t half as good as his Italian, was glad the shop worker was taken by Wilder. It would make this easier. Ryland paid close attention to the conversation to make sure he understood what was going on.
“We’re looking for Isadora Fiore. We thought she lived here,” Wilder said.
The woman’s flirty smile dropped. “Oh. What do you want Isadora for?”
“We just need to ask her some questions,” Wilder replied.
“You’re not police,” the woman snapped, all kindness gone from her tone.
“No,” Wilder said. “We’re not. But we’re really interested in hearing how Isadora got one of the Vases of Destiny. We need to know if she has it or if she sold it.”
“You are not welcome here. Leave!” She shoved hard into Wilder’s chest. “She gasped when she collided with the mass of muscle. She cried, “You’re shifters!” Tears lined her eyes. “Will we never be free of shifters? Leave. Now!”
Wilder crossed his arms and clicked his tongue, bored. “Look, I appreciate you’re upset. We don’t mean Isadora any harm.”
Ryland’s calm demeanor was starting to crack. He needed to find Caroline. Now. No one would stop him from finding her. Wilder’s cool tone wasn’t making the woman any calmer.
Ryland wasted no time with politeness. “Some people were taken,” he said in his best French. “Including my mate,” he added. “You are going to tell us where Isadora is. We just wanna talk. By all means, if you think you know what we’re looking for,youtalk. I don’t care. I want answers.”
The woman pursed her lips. She looked over her shoulder and shrugged. “I’m not a Fiore. I don’t care about their shady business dealings,” she whispered. “Not worth my life.”
Fuck me, he thought. “I’m not gonnahurtyou,” he said.
“The lynxes do,” she spat. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“Because we’re wolves,” Ryland and Wilder said at the same time.
“We don’t hurt humans. We help make the world a better place for them. Now, are you going to tell me what I need to know?”
The woman nudged them to the door and mouthed, “Go. I’ll be right out.” Louder, for the benefit of whoever was in the back, she added, “Leave this shop. I won’t answer any of your questions.”
Ryland didn’t want to move, but Wilder pulled him away.
The door closed behind them before they heard the lady cry out, “I’m going on a smoke break. That was too stressful for me.”
She joined them in the small alley beside the flower shop.
“Thanks,” Ryland grumbled half-heartedly. “What do you know?”
“All I know is that Isadora sold her vase to Laurent La Forest a few months ago.”
“Why would she do that?” Wilder asked. “She took it from her family.”
“Yes, she did. When Luigi said he was selling the land, another Bonetti had to take his place.”
