Chapter 6
DALTON
CHAPTER SIX
Drix and I stand in awkward silence on his driveway as Daisy says her goodbyes to Lia and Toby. I watch as he climbs up into Daisy’s arms, and plants an affectionate kiss on her cheek. She hauls him tighter against her, smiling through her tears as she presses kisses against his face. Fuck, the love and affection they share is so alien to me, leaving me feeling confused and uneasy.
Growing up, hugs were never a part of my life. Fuck, any form of affection. My father has always been emotionally distant, whilst my mother simply upped and left without looking back as soon as their divorce was finalised when I was eleven years old. I haven't seen her in over twenty years. She's essentially a stranger to me except for the occasional stilted phone call here and there.
"They're going to miss her being around," Drix murmurs, watching the three of them. "I'll miss her."
"She's only a ten minute drive away. Nothing's changed," I reply, swiping a hand through my hair, the air fraught between us.
"Everything's changed. You are now responsible for my sister's happiness, are you certain you're up for the challenge?" Drix presses, glancing at me.
Am I? The truthful answer is a definitive, fuck no, but I’m not about to admit that if I want to remain conscious, so instead I answer with, "Honestly, I’m not sure." It’s about as close to the truth as I can get.
He lets out a bitter laugh. "That's probably the most honest thing you've ever said to me."
"Look, Drix," I begin, eying him cautiously, "I know this isn't what you want for Daisy. It isn't what I want either, but there's nothing I can do to prevent the inevitable. We're getting married in a few weeks with or without your blessing."
"I will be there for Daisy, but I can't give you my blessing."
"I understand," I reply with a nod of my head. “Will you be coming to the engagement party next weekend?”
“I will.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” he bites back.
In all the years I’ve been friends with Drix, I don’t think we’ve ever had our friendship tested like this. Sure, we’ve had disagreements before, but I’ve never felt like our friendship was ever in question. Until now.
“I want you to know, despite what you think of me, that I will do everything in my power to take care of her," I say, knowing that too is a stretching the truth, because whilst I can shower Daisy with expensive gifts, wine and dine her at exclusive restaurants, and whisk her away on holiday to exotic locations, I can’t give her what she truly needs and that’s emotional support, affection, love. I’m just not fucking capable.
Drix shoots me a curious look. There’s doubt in his gaze, lingering anger, but there’s also a dash of hope, and seeing that makes me feel like a prick. Aside from Sterling and Ben, and the people I race with at the track, he’s one of the only people I truly count as a friend, and I hate deceiving him.
"Are you ready to go?" I ask as Daisy steps up to us both, ending our tense conversation.
"I guess," she replies with a small smile, her gaze drifting to Drix.
"Come here," he says roughly, pulling her into his arms and crushing her against his chest.
"As much as I love you, Drix, I can't actually breathe," she laughs after a moment, and he pulls back apologising, a sheepish look on his face which soon turns serious.
Gripping her shoulders, he says, "If at any point it gets to be too much, you come home, okay? No matter the consequences. You come home."
I flinch at the intensity of the unspoken accusations in Drix’s tone, but I can’t fault him for it. He’s protective of Daisy, always has been, and I know he’d willingly suffer the consequences if she were to break the contract.
"I love you," she retorts.
"Love you too," he replies.
With that, she unravels herself from Drix’s arms and pulls open the passenger door, shutting it quietly behind her.
"Don't let me down, Dalton," Drix warns.
I can’t respond with words, knowing how feeble they’d sound, so instead I give him a terse nod, then twist on my heel and climb into the car too. Moments later we’re pulling out of his drive and speeding towards a chaotic future that neither of us can avoid.
Beside me, Daisy sits quietly, her fingers tapping nervously on her thigh as she stares out of the window. The silence between us is thick with uncertainties, and I can’t help but steal glances at her from the corner of my eye, taking in her profile against the passing scenery. The winter sun shines through the strands of her unruly curls, illuminating them in a warm glow, and her soft lips are tipped down at the corner as though weighted with her unhappiness.
“You good?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question as a solitary tear slides down her cheek. Of course she isn’t.
She swipes at her face. “I’ll be fine,” she whispers.
My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, feeling ill-equipped to deal with her emotions as my brain scrambles to come up with something reassuring, but before I can open my mouth she breaks the silence between us.
“I’ve been thinking about this…”
“This?”
“Us, I mean,” she corrects, blowing out a tremulous breath.
“Go on,” I urge, thankful that I don’t have to bluster my way through trying to reassure her that everything is going to be okay when we both know it’s going to be a shitstorm.
“I know this isn’t what either of us wanted,” she begins, her voice steady despite the tears still lingering on her lashes, “But I believe we can at least try to make the best of this situation.”
“How?”
“By putting some rules in place, setting some boundaries between us.”
“This is about what happened at the spa, isn’t it?”
“Partly, and at the restaurant,” she adds, eyeing me.
I grit my jaw, nodding. “I overstepped.”
What I don’t say is that I wanted nothing more than to make her come. I wanted to watch her face flush with pleasure, I wanted to feel her pussy contract around my fingers as she came. I wanted to taste her skin, kiss her lips, fuck her mouth with my tongue. Should I want that? No, absolutely fucking not, would I have risked everything to take it regardless if she hadn’t stopped me, emphatically yes.
“But also because I feel we need to make things crystal clear, for both our sakes,” she continues on, oblivious to my thoughts.
“We’ve already signed a contract with a long list of stipulations we must follow, and you want to add even more?” I ask, a tinge of annoyance in my tone.
“This is different. This will be something we can both agree on, an addendum if you will. We’ve got to find a way to live together, right?”
I nod slowly, processing her words. Maybe she’s right. Maybe setting some boundaries will help us to navigate this unconventional arrangement. Then again, I’m not particularly good at respecting someone’s boundaries, that much is clear already. Still, I humour her.
“Okay, I’m listening,” I say, stealing another glance at her. “What do you have in mind?”
“First off,” she begins, her voice gaining confidence with every moment that passes, “We need to communicate, no matter how difficult or awkward it might feel. Agreed?”
“I’ll try,” I offer, knowing that’s about as likely as me ripping up the contract and living the rest of my life as a pauper.
“Dalton…”
“Okay, we communicate. Got it. What else?” I say, fixing my gaze back on the road ahead.
“Secondly,” she continues, “We respect each other’s personal space. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so it’s important we give each other room to breathe.”
“Understood.”
“And finally,” she says, her voice softening. “I also think we should try to find some common ground.”
“Common ground?” I question, slamming my foot against the brakes as a reckless driver suddenly swerves in front of us.
Daisy lurches forward, and I throw my arm out instinctively even though she’s buckled in. The other driver has the nerve to curse at us before speeding away in the opposite direction. I give him the middle finger as he passes.
“Seriously, can no one drive properly around here?!”
“Jesus,” Daisy exclaims, eyes wide.
“What a prick,” I add, scowling. “You okay?”
“You seem to be asking me that a lot lately,” she retorts, cocking her head to the side as she studies me.
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a complete arsehole,” I say before pulling off once more. She throws me an incredulous look. “Only ninety-nine point nine percent of the time?”
“So you were saying?” I counter, bristling.
Daisy clears her throat before continuing. “I thought we could try and figure out some activities or interests that we could both enjoy doing together. It might make this arrangement more bearable if we can share some positive experiences.”
“Positive experiences? This isn’t a therapeutic experiment.”
“Yes, positive experiences,” she persists.
“The only activities I enjoy are racing my motorbike and fucking,” I comment wryly. “I know fucking’s off the menu.”
“We’ve already established that,” she confirms evenly.
“And I’m pretty sure you’re not interested in watching me race.”
“I never said that,” she argues.
“So you’ll come to the track?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Maybe,” I reply, noncommittally. Frankly, she’ll probably serve as more of a distraction than anything else. “So what do you like to do?”
She thinks for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “I like to draw.”
“You draw? What, like landscapes or people or something?”
“Well, more like clothing,” she admits. “Though I am known to decorate my own wrapping paper with silly doodles. Drix has kept every single sheet of wrapping paper I’ve decorated with my art since we were kids.”
I raise a curious brow. “I didn’t know that.”
She shrugs. “Well, now you do.”
“So you design outfits?” I ask.
“Don’t sound so surprised. I like fashion, I thought that was obvious.”
“You like colour…”
“Are you saying I have no fashion sense?” she asks, her tone a little defensive.
“You definitely stand out in a crowd,” I comment, side-eyeing her turquoise jeans and yellow puffer jacket ensemble.
Daisy rolls her eyes. “At least I’m not boring.”
“You’re far from boring, Daisy,” I concede, indicating right before pulling onto the private, mile long drive that leads to my home, Highwood Manor Estate. “But hey, who am I to judge? Fashion’s subjective, right?”
“Yeah, it is,” Daisy agrees. “I guess we can add ‘respecting each other’s personal style’ to our list of agreements.”
“I can get behind that. Are there any other secret hobbies you have that I should know about?” I ask.
“I think you’re aware of my other hobby.”
“Are you referring to that obscene collection of unicorn figurines?”
“Yep.”
“What is it with you and Drix and your obsession with toys anyway? I can think of a million things I’d rather collect than plastic figurines.”
Daisy’s expression falls at my words. “I guess never having parents who could afford, or even want to buy you toys will do that to you,” she says softly, her tone heavy with emotion.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
“It’s fine,” she brushes off my apology with a wave of her hand, turning to look out of the window as we drive up to the imposing manor that I call home.
Highwood Manor Estate has been owned by our family for generations. Nestled among thirty acres of vibrant greenery, springtime is especially magical here when the gardens burst with colourful blooms and the lawns are meticulously maintained. I used to love getting lost in the maze as a child, sometimes taking hours to find my way out. The manor also boasts luxurious amenities like a swimming pool, ballroom, gym, spa, and even a private cinema room. And let's not forget the helipad and garage filled with antique cars and motorcycles. Despite living under the same roof, I rarely see my father unless it's for our regular business discussions; that's just how grand this estate is.
“So here we are,” I say, putting the car into park, and turning off the engine.
“Here we are,” she agrees, chewing on her lip.
“I’ll show you to your suite,” I say, stepping out of the car and heading towards the front door. When she doesn’t step into stride next to me, I turn to find her opening the boot of the car. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m getting my suitcase,” she replies.
“We have staff for that. Leave it, come with me.”
“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” she replies, the suitcase dropping to the gravel driveway with a thud.
“Here let me,” I say, jogging towards her and grabbing the suitcase.
“Thanks,” she mutters, smothering a smile as I grimace at the weight of it.
“What have you got in here anyway?” I ask.
“You didn’t think I’d leave without my collection of unicorns, did you?” she deadpans.
“You’re kidding right?”
She shakes her head, her lips quivering in a smile. “Of course I am, I can’t imagine Carl letting me display them next to his priceless antiques, can you?”
“God forbid,” I agree, shaking my head at the idea.
Once inside, I point out the various rooms on the way to her suite situated in the west wing of the manor. She walks silently beside me, offering smiles and soft hello’s to the staff we pass by.
“Are all your staff so?—”
“Polite?”
“No, quiet. Aren’t they allowed to talk?”
“They’re paid to do a job, not to pass the time with idle chatter.”
Daisy raises her brows. “I see.”
Eventually we reach her suite, and I prop open the door with her suitcase. “Dinner will be at eight. I’ll let you settle in.”
She doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she steps into the room, her mouth gaping as she casts her gaze around. “This is… beautiful.”
“What were you expecting, a box room with a dirty mattress on the floor?”
“What did you just say?” she asks, her voice tight as she whips her head around to look at me.
“I was joking, Daisy,” I reply, holding my hands up in surrender.
Something flickers behind her eyes, and despite her shoulders relaxing, I can’t help but wonder why my words seemed to have triggered such a reaction. I bench that thought for later.
“Of course you were,” she mumbles, stepping further into the suite as she takes in her new surroundings.
The suite itself offers luxury and refinement, with no expense spared. The walls are adorned with intricate floral patterned wallpaper, hand-painted with gold accents that catch the natural light streaming through the huge arched windows that overlook the gardens. To the left of the four poster bed, which is draped in cream silk curtains, sits a plush, dusky pink, chaise lounge. Opposite the bed is an ornate reading nook filled with leather-bound books and a mahogany writing desk, its surface polished and shiny, as well as a sitting area graced with a huge sofa that is comfortable enough to sleep on. A marble fireplace frames an open fire that’s crackling in the grate, filling the room with a comforting warmth.
“There’s an ensuite bathroom through there,” I say, pointing towards a door on the far side of the suite. “It has a bathtub, but if you prefer to shower, then just along the hall is another bathroom.”
“This is…” Daisy stammers.
“Your home now,” I finish for her.
She nods. “My clothes?”
“Already hung up in your dressing room,” I explain, pointing to another door situated to the left of the reading nook. “I had our staff prepare everything for you so you could just relax.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Dinner will be held in the parlour in the east wing.”
“Okay,” she replies with a nod.
“Would you like me to put your suitcase in the dressing room?” I ask. “I can send someone to unpack for you.”
She shakes her head, pulling off her coat. “No, I can manage.”
“Okay. See you later.” I twist on my heel, about to leave.
“Sure… Oh, and Dalton?”
“Yes?” I question, turning to face her once again.
“Where is your room?”
“A little further down the corridor,” I reply. “Why do you ask?”
She flicks her gaze away. “No reason.”
As I make my way to my own suite, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt from our earlier conversation about her and Drix’s fixation with collecting toys. It only serves to remind me of my own privileged childhood, where I was given everything I wanted but lacked any emotional connection with my parents. I guess in that respect we are more alike than I’d care to admit.