The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 4

DALTON

CHAPTER FOUR

“You wanted to speak with me?” Daisy asks, stepping into my office at the hotel we both work at the following morning.

My eyes graze over her as she shuts the door, taking a seat opposite me. She’s wearing a navy blue pencil skirt, sheer tights and a white fitted blouse with the hotel’s name embroidered on the lapel. But as always, Daisy adds her own flair to the uniform with her unique earrings, bold lipstick and dramatic eyeliner. Today she has a pair of unicorn earrings dangling from each ear, and a deep purple lipstick which clashes vibrantly with her pink streaked, strawberry blonde hair.

“How are things?” I ask, flicking my gaze from her pouty mouth to her eyes. Pretty sure I went to sleep last night thinking about how plump her lips felt against mine. Frankly, that had surprised me more than the fact she actually kissed me back.

She squints at me, her button nose wrinkling, smooshing up the freckles splattered across the bridge. “Things?”

“Is work okay?” I ask, suddenly feeling like some tongue-tied imbecile. Well, this is fucking awkward.

“Is this my long overdue performance review? Are you going to give me a raise?” she throws back with a scoff before adding, “Oh no, wait, in a few weeks I won’t actually have a job anymore, will I?”

“That wasn’t down to me,” I retort, bristling at her hostility. I mean, I can’t fucking blame her for being pissed off, but she knows as well as I do that becoming a lady of leisure wasn’t my decision.

“Hmm,” she replies, picking at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt.

“Listen, I wouldn’t have minded you continuing to work. I’m not like my father.”

At that she tips her head back and laughs, and I fold my arms across my chest, forcing myself not to react. Why is she the one person who so easily pushes my buttons? I’d love to shut her up with my cock in her mouth. That’d teach her.

“Seriously? You’re his clone, Dalton.”

“How so?” I ask out of morbid curiosity more than anything else.

“You really want to know?” she retorts, eying me, amusement and a glimmer of spite glinting in her eyes.

“May as well know how much you dislike me before we tie the knot,” I reply.

“Okay, well you asked for it.” Shifting in her seat, she rests her forearms on the table, flashing me a hint of cleavage as she leans forward. I force myself to look away. “For a start you’re arrogant. Though I suspect that comes as no great surprise.”

I shrug. “Arrogant. Got it. Anything else?”

“Oh, there’s plenty more. You’re vain,” she continues, grinning at me in a way that looks like a dog about to bite. “Materialistic. Selfish. Terrible with women–”

“The women I’ve slept with would beg to differ,” I interrupt.

She rolls her eyes, and my fingers flex, itching to spank her. “I mean emotionally.”

“So you admit I’m good in bed?” I ask, cocking a brow.

“I wouldn’t know. Don’t want to either,” she adds quickly.

“Go on. What else?”

“You’re conceited.”

“Isn’t that the same as vain? Try again,” I offer.

“How about annoying?”

“Okay, so I’m arrogant, materialistic, selfish, vain, terrible with women, emotionally,” I add with a smirk. “Conceited, annoying…”

“Yep, all of those things,” she replies with a satisfied smile, leaning back in her seat. “Oh, and inconsiderate. You could’ve warned me that you’d sent an email to the staff this morning about our engagement!”

“Would you have preferred I called a meeting instead? I thought you’d want to avoid the embarrassment, not to mention another public display of affection. So all things considered, I think I was being pretty considerate.”

“You could’ve given me a heads up. I’ve been batting off questions all day long.”

“Tell me who’s being intrusive and I’ll call them in the office for a chat,” I immediately reply.

“I don’t think so, your chats tend to lead to a person getting fired. I’ve handled it.”

“Okay, anything else you’d like to add to the list?”

“I think that about sums you up,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest.

“Really. I think you’ve forgotten a few,” I say.

“Yeah, what?”

“Rich–”

“Not quite yet,” she reminds me. “But I agree, rich people tend to be shitty.”

“That’s very narrow-minded of you. Not all rich people. Hubert wasn’t,” I point out.

“He was an exception to the rule,” she replies.

“I’m protective,” I add.

“Protective? Interfering you mean,” she corrects.

“Still not forgiven me for firing Lewis, I see. Need I remind you that he was the arsehole shagging another woman whilst he was dating you? I did you a favour.”

“You interfered,” she reiterates. “Stuck your nose in business that had nothing to do with you. I would’ve handled it. Besides, he was just a fling. You assumed he meant more to me than he did.”

Now it’s my turn to scoff. Daisy has a bad habit of falling for men that are no good for her. Not too long ago she’d dated that little shit Lewis who used to work at this hotel as a porter until I fired his arse for fucking her over. “Don’t lie. You would’ve listened to his piss-poor excuse, forgiven him and let him walk all over you.”

She scowls. “You’re mistaking me for the women you’ve fucked. I honestly don’t know why any of them went back for more given your reputation.”

“That’ll be because I’m excellent in bed,” I goad her, levelling my gaze with hers. “I may not have given the women I slept with any promises, or emotional connection, but I did give them all multiple orgasms. That’s why they kept coming back.”

“Good for you,” she snaps, pushing up from her seat. “Are we done? I have a lot of work to do.”

“Sit down, Daisy. I’m not finished with you yet,” I command.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Dalton Gunn. Just because you’re my fake fiance–”

“I think you’ll find this is very real, Daisy. You are my fiance and we are getting married. There’s nothing fake about that,” I remind her.

“On paper, yes, but not in any way that counts,” she counters, anger suffusing her words as her eyes gleam with hatred, which only serves to rile me up further. “And that doesn’t give you the right to demand anything from me!”

“Right now, I’m still your boss. So sit your peachy arse back on that seat before I do something we’ll both regret!” I grind out. God, she’s pissing me off.

“Threatening me now are we? Do I need to add prick to that long list of terrible attributes?”

We glare at each other for long moments before I wind my neck in and heave out a sigh. “Please, Daisy. Will you just stay a moment longer? I did have a valid reason for wanting to see you.”

“You’ve got one minute,” she agrees reluctantly, planting her arse back on the seat.

“I wanted to give you this,” I say, reaching for the gift bag on the floor beside me and placing it on the table.

“I can’t be bought,” she says, glancing at the bag warily.

“We both know that’s a lie,” I reply, lifting a brow.

“Signing a contract agreeing to marry you, to release Drix from his debt, is not the same as being bought. I would call that an act of kindness, Dalton. Which is a concept you clearly have no idea about.”

“Just open the damn gift,” I snap, pushing the bag across the table towards her.

The right thing to do in this instant would be to apologise, but I’ve never done the right thing in my life, and I’m not about to start now just to appease a woman who clearly hates my guts.

“Fine!”

She reaches for the bag and pulls out a large white box. Across the lid in swirly gold lettering is the name of the store I bought the items from this morning. Joli is an upmarket boutique frequented by the wealthy women who live in Princetown.

“If you’ve bought me lingerie, I might just strangle you with it!” she says, glaring at me.

“Sounds positively erotic,” I counter, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Did you need new lingerie? I mean, I’m more than happy to buy you some,” I add, hitching a brow and loving the way her cheeks heat.

“I do not. And for the record, I buy my own lingerie.”

“You might want to reconsider because I know a thing or two about quality lingerie, Daisy. I also happen to be an expert at removing it.”

“Number one, that was the first and last time you’ll ever get to see me in my underwear, and number two, you’ll never have the opportunity to remove my lingerie. Just so we’re clear.”

My lips twitch with another smile as she glares at me. “Go on, open it.”

Dropping her gaze from me to the gift box, she lifts the lid, her fingers parting the lavender scented tissue paper. When she pulls out the first of three silk blouses that I bought for her to replace the one that was ruined last night, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of satisfaction at the look of shock in her eyes.

“You bought me a replacement?” she questions in disbelief, frowning as she pulls out the pale blue silk blouse that I thought would match the shade of her eyes perfectly.

“Three, actually. They didn’t have the same exact colour as the one you wore last night so I picked out the ones I’d thought you’d like. If they’re not suitable I can have them returned,” I offer with a shrug.

“No, they’re… fine,” she replies with a shake of her head as she folds the tissue paper back around the pale blue blouse, and rests it on the table before looking at the next two. One is a dusky pink, a colour I’ve noticed her wearing a lot, and the last is a deep red, my favourite.

“Good. Well, that was all, really,” I say, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and unease. I had hoped my gesture would soften her towards me but now I see she’s still guarded.

“Thank you, Dalton,” she finally says, tucking the blouses back into the box, and the box back into the gift bag.

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, some people might see this as a sign of remorse or a way to make amends,” she says, pinning me with her gaze.

“And how do you see it?” I ask.

“If I didn’t know you well enough, I’d assume the same thing.”

“But…”

“But I do know you, Dalton, and as pretty as these are, this gift feels like you’re trying to buy my affection.”

“I’m not.”

“Or at the very least, my obedience,” she adds.

“Not that either,” I retort, flinching at the accusation. “I’ve also booked you in for a massage this afternoon after you finish your shift, but just so you know I haven’t done that to buy your affection or your obedience. You’ve had a rough few days, and I thought it might help.”

“Lia, Drix and Toby have had a rough few days. Like I said to you last night. I’m fine.”

“Either way, I’ve booked you in. Have the massage or don’t. It’s up to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, her gaze locked on the gift bag before her. “I’ll give you the benefit of doubt, and accept these blouses as a thoughtful gift. The massage… sounds nice. I’ll consider it.”

I try to read her expression, but she keeps her emotions guarded, so I respond with a simple, “That’s good to hear. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I will,” she responds, standing up from her seat.

As she adjusts her skirt, the glint of her engagement ring catches my eye. I half expected her to leave the ring at home, but seeing it on her now causes a storm of possessive emotions to stir within me. She’s mine. Unwillingly, yes, but she’s mine regardless, and now that she’s committed to marrying me, she’s bound to me whether she wants to be or not, the good and the bad. For better or for worse.

For a while, at least.

“Samantha, did Daisy leave already?” I ask, stepping up to the reception desk. It’s a few minutes past four and I was hoping to catch Daisy before she left, figuring she’d pass up the opportunity for a massage to spite me.

“Actually, she went to the spa for the massage you booked for her,” Samantha replies, trying to smother her smile. “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you, we’re very happy,” I reel off, a little distracted by the thought of Daisy naked and relaxed. She may not be my type, but I’m still a man, and it’s been over a week since I’ve slept with a woman. Which, for me, feels like a fucking year.

“Seems like it,” she mutters in response, slamming her mouth shut when I snap my attention back to her.

The email I sent this morning about our engagement erupted in a torrent of gossip that has only seemed to fuel Daisy’s ire throughout the day when I’ve caught glimpses of her at work. I probably should’ve consulted her first, but it’s done now. Nothing I can do to change it.

“Who is she booked in with?” I ask, moving the conversation on.

Samantha returns her attention to the computer screen, clicking on the mouse a couple of times before glancing back up at me. “Tomasz.”

“You’re fucking joking, right?” I snap, that possessiveness I felt earlier rearing its head.

“Is there a problem?” Samantha replies, almost a little too sweetly for my liking. “Daisy asked for him specifically,” she adds.

“I bet she did,” I mutter, grinding my teeth. “Which room is she in?”

Samantha’s eyes flick back to the screen, her lips twitching as she tries to smother another smile. “Room three.”

I don’t bother to thank her as I push off from the counter, striding towards the spa. As I approach Room Three, my initial plan is to burst in and fire the bastard who dared to lay his hands on my fiancé's naked body. However, a different idea crosses my mind and I decide to use this as an opportunity to get back at Daisy for choosing Tomasz as her masseuse. Sure, she’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to have sex with me, but she hasn’t mentioned anything about me touching her, and I intend on exploiting that. Composing myself, I reach for the door handle, taking a deep breath as I push the door open.

Inside, the room is dimly lit, with the scent of essential oils permeating the air. Daisy is lying face down on the massage table, a white towel folded across her arse, the rest of her naked and exposed as Tomasz’s skilled hands glide up her calves. It takes everything in me not to punch his fucking lights out, especially when she murmurs how good it feels. Instead, I lift my finger to my lips, motioning for Tomasz to come outside the room.

“Excuse me, Daisy, I’m… needed. Please relax, I won’t be long,” he says, picking up on my vibes not to tell her it’s me.

As soon as the doors shut, I glare at him, hissing out the words like a rattlesnake about to strike. “In the future, if Daisy asks for you to give her a massage you will say you’re busy, understand?”

Tomasz nods. “Yes, of course. Apologies, Mr Gunn, should I get one of the female masseuses to finish her session?”

“No. Leave this with me,” I retort tightly, shrugging off my suit jacket and handing it to him. “Take this to my office.”

“Of course, Mr Gunn. Apologies once again,” he says, before spinning on his heels and leaving.

I watch him walk away, anger bubbling in my chest as I angrily roll up my shirt sleeves. A large part of me wants to go in there and give Daisy a piece of my mind. She may not be fucking another man, but she’s pushing the boundaries of our contract by allowing another man’s hands on her body, and for that I’m going to make her pay.

Stepping into the room, I close the door softly behind me. Daisy stirs, her head lifting, but I place my hand on the centre of her back, hoping to fuck she doesn’t sit up.

“You’re back, everything okay?” she asks.

I grunt my response, not wanting to give myself away. Daisy doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of words, and lets out a long sigh that has my cock twitching and my anger growing.

“I’m so relaxed, Tomasz. You have magic hands.”

I’ll give her magic hands.

“Please don’t be offended if I fall asleep. In all honesty, I'm pretty tired. It’s been a testing week.”

I grunt again, gritting my jaw at the simple fact that she can be honest with Tomasz but she refuses to open up to me. Flexing my fingers, I quickly add some oil to my palms and warm up the liquid before placing my hands on her ankles, gripping her gently. I may not be a trained masseuse, but I’ve massaged a lot of women in my time, and I’m an expert at making them quake from my touch.

Flattening the palm of my hands against the sides of her ankles, I use my thumbs to draw circles across her skin, moving slowly upwards. The soft moan she releases is like a shot of pleasure straight to my cock, and it takes everything in me not to groan in response.

Fuck knows how Tomasz remains focussed and professional, he must have a raging hard on most of the time, or perhaps, unlike me, he’s just a decent guy who doesn’t have an addiction to the female form. Yeah, it must be that.

Daisy relaxes further under my touch, and I can feel her muscles loosening under my thumbs as I slowly slide my hands up her calves and towards her freckled thighs. Her creamy skin pinkens a little from my firm touch, stirring up thoughts of her stripped naked, my handprints colouring her skin.

A shiver runs through me at the thought as my palms slide higher, my fingers gliding over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. If she were truly mine, and willing, I would slip my hands higher, exploring the soft folds of her pussy, but for now, I inch my hands just below the towel that rests across her upper thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her body before sliding my palms back downwards.

Daisy lets out another soft sigh, her body liquefying under my touch, the sound is a sweet symphony of satisfaction that I alone am responsible for. Not to brag, but I’ve made women come touching every part of their body except their obvious erogenous zones, and I’m willing to bet Daisy would come just as hard from my touch, if I let her.

Working my hands slowly back down her legs, I pay special attention to the back of her knees, working small circles there. Daisy’s soft breaths begin to thicken imperceptibly, and I glance upwards, grinning at the way her fingers curl around the padded bed, her arse cheeks clenching beneath the towel. A slow smile pulls up my lips. I bet she’s wet. Before long she’ll be dripping for me.

Or should I say Tomasz given that’s who she thinks is massaging her now.

Fuck sake.

Gritting my jaw, I take all my anger out on my perfect teeth and lightly draw my fingertips over the back of her knees, I trace the lightest of touch across her skin. The fine hairs on her arms lift as they cover in goosebumps, another telltale sign that she’s aroused. As my hands glide lower, I notice her toes curl in response to my touch, and I can’t help but feel another surge of arousal. Gripping her ankle, I press my thumbs into the dip either side of her Achillies heel, before smoothing my palm over her pretty feet, paying particular attention to her arch.

Her sigh deepens, and her fingers release their tight grip on the padded bed, as she relaxes once more. But I don’t want her relaxed, I want her coiled tight, desperate, needy.

I want her on the edge of her proverbial seat, fucking panting for release.

So I work my hands back upwards again, feeling the heat radiating from her body as I coast my palms back over her calves, the back of her knees and up her thighs. They clench together from my touch, and I can’t help but smile to myself, knowing that she’s completely at my mercy, that I’m about to push her to the brink of pleasure, in a state of overwhelming arousal, only to leave her there, wanting more.

It’s no more than she deserves.

Slowly, I run my thumbs along the inside of her thighs, barely touching the sensitive skin, and they part imperceptibly. A huge part of me is angered by her reaction given she believes that I’m Tomasz. The other, part of me, the part addicted to the sins of the flesh, can’t think beyond how soft she feels, how warm her skin is, how her chest heaves from my touch, how her sweet moans sound. She’s so receptive to my touch, so responsive, and it turns me the fuck on.

Jesus fucking christ.

My cock thickens further, pressing against the zipper of my trousers, and I can feel the delicious heat between her thighs just inches from my fingertips. With a sly grin, I begin to massage her inner thigh, pushing her legs wider to gain access, moving my fingertips in slow circles. She’s trembling now, and I know she’s desperate for me to sink my fingers inside her pussy just as much as I am.

“Oh God,” she murmurs, her voice a husky plea, as I continue to tease. “This isn’t right.”

This isn’t right…

My hands still, something close to regret flooding my senses. Fuck, what the hell am I doing?

She thinks I’m Tomasz for fuck sake. I came here to punish her, but really all I’m doing is punishing myself. This is all kinds of fucked-up. Backing up, I leave the room, stepping outside and closing the door behind me, trying to regain control of my body as I rest against the wood.

“Fuck,” I mutter, swiping a hand through my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I want to yell at her for being so aroused. I want to spank her arse for desiring another man’s touch, for not even trying to put a stop to it. I want to go back into the room and fuck her until she screams.

I’m turned on. I’m livid. It’s a dangerous combination.

Twisting my body around, I grip the door handle, ready to say fuck it to everything and claim her body. They say hate sex is the best kind of sex, and right now I fucking hate Daisy Hammer, but a whimper coming from inside the room stops me. I stiffen, straining to hear. Is she crying…?

No, wait…

There’s another soft moan, and I press my ear against the door, my knuckles turning white around the handle as I listen.

She’s not crying, she’s moaning.

Is she…?

She’s getting herself off!

Fuck. Me.

I can’t seem to move. My body stiffens as I listen, and I don’t know what messes me up more, the fact she’s making herself come thinking of Tomasz, or the fact that it’s not my hand making her feel pleasure she’s never experienced before, because Tomasz’s skills are nothing compared to mine, believe me.

My heart races as I listen to her muffled scream of release, the sound driving a new wave of desire through my veins. But I stand firm, resisting the primal urge to burst back into the room and take her right there and then.

Finally the sounds subside, and with a deep breath, I push off from the door, striding back along the corridor. Unable to take out my frustration and anger on Daisy, I decide Tomasz will do, and two words burst from my lips as I pass him by: “You’re fired.”