Gemotions

Liam was sitting at his desk, staring at the spreadsheet when the receptionist buzzed. "Flowers for you, Mr. Harding." His fingers went stiff on the keyboard. He hadn't ordered flowers.

He found the bouquet on his desk, a splash of colour against the sterile grey of his office. A mix of roses and something leafy that he didn't recognise. His pulse quickened. His palms were already slick.

He flipped the arrangement upside down, searching for a card. Nothing. This wasn't right. Someone was playing a game. Or worse.

He glanced at the closed door, imagining someone watching him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, but it didn’t help. The air felt thin. He had to know. He had to know who sent these.