The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 9

DAISY

CHAPTER NINE

“It’s good to see you, Daisy,” Daphne, the owner of The Rock Cafe, says as she plops down in the seat opposite me, fanning herself.

“Are you okay, you look a little flushed?” I ask, taking a sip of my Earl Gray tea as I look across at my friend.

“It’s been a very busy day, that’s all. Luckily for this old woman, the lunch time rush is well and truly over,” she replies, the lines around her eyes deepening as she smiles.

“You really need to get some help. You work too hard,” I reply, reaching over and patting her hand as I glance over at the couple seated at the back of the café. Fortunately for me they’ve already been served and are deep in conversation, which is a good thing because I could really use some of Daphne’s advice right now.

She waves away my concern. “I haven’t got any children of my own to fuss over, so I like keeping busy. How are you anyway? Settling in with Dalton, okay?”

“So you’ve heard?” I ask, knowing that Drix must’ve told her about my new arrangement given he loves Daphne as much as I do. As an old friend of Hubert’s, she’s been a constant in our lives, and ever since he passed away we’ve both spent a lot of time in her cafe, not just because she makes delicious food and neither of us can cook all that well, but because she’s such a kind woman.

“Drix might’ve mentioned something,” she replies.

“How much has he mentioned exactly?” I ask, lowering my voice.

“That you’re engaged to be married, and that you’ve moved into the Gunn mansion.”

“And…” I press, knowing she’s aware of more.

“I know it all, Daisy, and I have to tell you, whilst I understand your decision to marry Dalton, I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Believe me that thought has crossed my mind on several occasions,” I reply, blowing out a breath. She opens her mouth to speak, but I already know what she’s going to say, so I cut her off with a shake of my head. “But I’m not changing my mind. I’m doing this for Drix and Lia. Besides, there really is no going back now.”

She gives me one of her looks, but she refrains from saying anything further, which I’m grateful for because right now I’m feeling especially vulnerable given everything that’s happened these past few days.

“You have always been a kind girl, and I know that what you’re doing is an act of love for your brother,” Daphne says, patting my hand comfortingly before leaning in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I also know Carl Gunn, and he’s a cruel man, Daisy. He uses people and discards them as soon as he gets what he wants. He conducts his personal life in the exact same way as he conducts his business dealings, and that is viciously with little regard for anyone but himself.”

“I’m well aware of the kind of man Carl is, and I know what I’ve gotten myself into,” I add, trying to reassure her, but failing given the look she gives me.

“And I’ve known Carl as long as I knew your father, God rest his soul, and he has chewed up and spit out three wives and countless women over the years. And as for Dalton…” Her voice trails off as she shakes her head.

“It’s alright, you can say what’s on your mind, because I doubt very much what you think of him is any different to what I think of him. He’s a clone of his father.”

“Carl would like to think so, I’m sure,” Daphne says. “But Dalton is more like his mother than he realises.”

“You knew her?”

“I’ve lived in Princetown my whole life. I have served many people in this café, and I’ve learned a lot of things. Dalton’s mother was a lovely woman.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Dalton say anything kind about his mother. Anything at all, come to think of it.”

“She left when he was a young boy, that can’t have been easy on him,” Daphne says, and I nod, mulling that over. “And I suspect his father hasn’t encouraged their relationship in any way. I’d bet my retirement nest-egg that man has made it very difficult for her to have any contact with her son.”

“You think he’s somehow stopped her from seeing him?”

“I think Carl Gunn is capable of many deplorable things.”

“Wow. That’s… horrid.”

“What I can tell you is that the Claudine I knew was sweet and kind, but unfortunately not very strong emotionally. At least not strong enough to stand up against Carl Gunn.”

“Well, I can tell you that Dalton doesn’t take after his mother,” I point out. “Frankly, he’s a jerk.”

“I’m sure he can be, but I wasn’t talking about that part,” she says, squeezing my hand, before resting back against her seat.

“You’re saying he’s not emotionally strong?” I can’t help but laugh. “Dalton doesn’t have any emotions unless you include vanity. In fact he excels at being vain. The man loves himself. He’s cocky, arrogant, self-centred, selfish?—”

“And why do you think he might be vain?” Daphne asks, cutting off my tirade.

“Because he has an ego the size of the moon, and he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“Vain people are very often insecure, Daisy. They seek attention, validation and admiration from others to make them feel important because somewhere along the line they’ve been made to feel the exact opposite.”

I puff out a breath, frowning. “I hadn’t even considered that perspective.”

“I’m not saying I’m right, I’m just saying that sometimes how people present themselves is a mask to cover up a multitude of hurts. Put it this way, if you had the misfortune of having a father like Carl Gunn, wouldn’t you want to hide away any perceived flaws and suppress emotions that man would deem worthless?”

“So what are you saying exactly?”

“I’m saying that you need to be careful around Carl. People like him have a habit of pulling the rug out from under you when you least expect it.”

“I promise, I will be.”

“And with Dalton…” Daphne’s voice trails off as she cocks her head at me.

“Yes?” I question.

“A person’s vulnerabilities can be the very thing that shapes their character, both the good, and the bad. Those vulnerabilities can also be the key to unlocking someone’s true nature and motivations. Something worth remembering, don’t you think?”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Good. Now, you enjoy the rest of that sugared bun, and I’ll get back to work,” she replies, getting up and dropping a kiss to my forehead, before heading towards the back of the café to clear up some plates left behind on a table there.

For the rest of the afternoon, I wander through the streets of Princetown and stop by some of the local stores, picking up a couple of tops and a skirt from the charity store that caught my eye. Feeling a little thirsty, I head over to Bandits Bar for a drink. Despite still being relatively early, there are quite a few regulars inside, and I take a seat on one of the barstools waiting for Ben, the owner, and one of Drix and Dalton’s good friends, to serve me.

“Hey, Daisy, what can I get you?” he asks, giving me one of his signature smiles that lights up his striking green eyes as soon as he spots me.

“Just a lemonade, I’m driving.”

“Coming right up,” he replies, grabbing a glass and filling it before adding some ice and a slice of lemon.

“Thank you,” I say, taking it from him.

“So, where’s your other half?” he asks, flitting his eyes around the bar in search of Dalton, no doubt.

“Counting his obscene amounts of money back at the mansion, I guess,” I reply with a shrug, taking a sip of the sweet liquid.

Ben smirks. “Does he know you’re here alone?”

“No, besides it’s really none of his business where I choose to spend my time.”

“He’s your fiancé, Daisy, I think that makes it his business, don’t you?”

“So you know then?”

“I received the invite to your engagement party.”

“I haven’t even seen them,” I reply, huffing out a breath.

“That figures. Carl is–”

“A domineering bastard?” I finish for him.

“That’s one way to describe him,” Ben concedes with a wink. “Plus you’ve got a rock on your finger the size of Gibraltar, and I happen to be best mates with your brother and your fiancé, so I have some insider knowledge.”

“I bet you do,” I reply, rolling my eyes, and refraining from asking how that conversation went down.

“I can already tell you’re running rings around Dalton. Bet he’s loving the chase,” Ben smirks.

“I never said that I’d make this easy for him,” I shrug.

“You shouldn’t, he could use a little humbling.”

Despite being an heir to the Pike’s family fortune, Ben’s a lot more down to Earth than Dalton is, and I’ve always liked him. You wouldn’t find many billionaire heirs serving drinks behind a bar.

“Dalton is used to getting what he wants, and I’m not in the business of allowing that,” I reply. “If I want to have a drink, then I will.”

“Daisy, maybe you should just–” Ben begins but the door to the bar swings open and a group of about twenty men walk in. One of them is wearing a huge penis hat and the others are pushing and shoving him in jest. Clearly they’re on a stag do. “Ah fuck. Sorry, Daisy, looks like I’m going to have to cut this conversation short.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just going to drink this and then head out anyway.”

Pushing off my stool, I head to a corner table to get out of the way of the group of men who are clearly a little worse for wear. For the next few minutes, I watch them with mild amusement, sipping on my lemonade when my phone vibrates in my bag. Fishing it out, I notice I have several text messages from Dalton, more appearing as I read.

“Oh for goodness sake, can this man be any more infuriating?” I mutter, casting my eyes over them.

Ben texted. What the fuck are you doing at Bandits Bar?

I glance over at Ben and shake my head, regretting my decision to have a drink here. They’re all in cahoots together. Urgh.

Daisy, answer me.

Daisy, I swear to fuck if you don’t answer me.

You know if you’re trying to piss me off, you’re doing an excellent job at it.

Kudos to me, I suppose. Daisy one, Dalton Nil.

Daisy!

You are my fiance, and you should not be there alone.

I roll my eyes at that. Asshat.

In fact you shouldn’t be there at all!

This man is a nightmare.

Daisy, so help me. Get your arse home NOW!

I read his last message and let out a frustrated laugh. Who the hell does he think he is, and what exactly does he think is going to happen? I’ve been coming to Bandits Bar ever since I was old enough to drink, and it’s not as if I can’t handle myself.

“What a jerk!” I exclaim, dropping my phone back into my bag, my attention drawn to someone standing to my left. I slowly look upwards, taking in a pair of light denim jeans and a smart blue shirt, before settling on a pair of dark brown eyes set in a handsome face.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asks as one of his friends gathered at the bar hollers something provocative.

I raise a brow.

“Sorry about them, stag do. My friends are a little drunk.”

“I figured.”

“So, can I sit?” he asks, pointing to the seat opposite me.

“There are plenty of other seats available,” I point out.

He shuffles on his feet. “Yeah, I know, but I saw you sitting alone and I thought, maybe…”

“I’d want company?” I fill in, arching a brow.

“Honestly, I could use a break from them,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re on a bar crawl. It’s already been a long day, and the way these guys are going, an even longer night.”

I chew on my lip, unsure whether I want to engage in conversation with a stranger, but there is an earnestness in his eyes that makes me feel sympathetic towards him. Besides, I’m only staying until my drink is finished. What possible harm could it be?

“Sure, why not,” I find myself saying.

He smiles gratefully and sits, glancing over at his friends who are currently shouting orders at Ben. “So who’s the groom?” I ask.

“Steven, the one wearing the knob hat,” the guy explains.

“Of course he is, and what’s your name?”

“Paul.”

“I’m Daisy,” I reply, offering my hand for him to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Daisy,” he replies, his hand holding onto mine a little longer than necessary. I give him a tight smile before pulling my hand back.

“Do you live around here?” he asks, leaning forward, his arms pressing against the table as his legs stretch out beneath it.

“I do, and the bar owner over there,” I say, pointing to Ben, “Is my friend.”

Paul nods, his gaze coasting over to the bar and Ben trying to manage his rowdy friends. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a receptionist, you?” I ask, taking another sip from my drink.

“I work in logistics.”

“Logistics?” I ask, acutely aware of how his gaze keeps dropping to my chest. Prickles of awareness, and not the good kind, scatter down my spine.

“Yeah,” he replies, his countenance changing as he stares at me. “Okay, so let’s cut to the chase.”

“Cut to the chase?” I question, trying to shift my legs between the table as his thighs cage mine, my hackles rising.

“My friends and I have a little wager going, and right now I’m the only one here who hasn’t managed to pull,” he says, lowering his voice and licking his lips.

A wager? Really? I’m so done with men.

“Can’t imagine why that might be,” I reply, not bothering to hide my disdain as the atmosphere shifts, tainted now with an uncomfortable tension. I subtly inch my chair back, creating some physical space between us as I try to formulate an exit strategy in my mind.

Paul leans in closer, dropping any kind of pretence now as his eyes narrow. “Come on, you must be picking up what I’m putting down.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of what you’re doing,” I reply, pressing my palm against the table as I move to stand. “And I’m not interested.”

He reaches out and wraps his fingers around my wrist, squeezing tightly. “You’re here alone, I’m here alone. Why don’t we make the most of it?”

“You can’t be serious?” I retort, trying to tug my wrist free. “Ben is my friend, and the second he sees what you’re doing he’ll be over here.”

“Ben is very distracted right now,” Paul replies, smiling lasciviously. “Just a quick kiss, yeah? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Not a chance!” I hiss back.

“Listen, I’ll buy you a drink. Stay and talk some more,” he says, attempting to make himself look less of a dick with an offer of a drink, as if that somehow makes his behaviour okay.

“Paul,” I say, bending over so that my face is just inches from his.

“Yes,” he smirks, dropping his gaze to my lips.

“FUCK OFF!” I shout, before lifting my handbag and smacking it into the side of his head.

Paul’s smirk fades as he’s shoved sideways from the force, the sound smothered by his friends whooping and hollering.

“You bitch!” he snarls, his fingers still wrapped tightly around my wrist as he pushes back his chair and stands.

“The fuck you just say to my fiance?”

Three things happen at once. I stiffen, Paul’s eyes widen, and Dalton’s fist meets the arsehole’s jaw in a sickening thud. Releasing me, Paul stumbles backwards from the impact of Dalton’s punch, and I grip my wrist, rubbing it.

“Daisy, are you okay?” Dalton growls, his eyes dropping to my hand wrapped around my wrist.

“I’m fine. Let’s just go,” I whisper, heat flooding my cheeks as the men Paul came in with all fall silent.

“Not until I’ve dealt with this prick, we’re not,” he says, twisting on his feet.

“He’s with a lot of people,” I hiss, reaching for Dalton’s arm, but he just throws me a glare.

“I don’t give a fuck. If they want a fucking brawl, then I'm more than willing to give them one,” he says, his voice rising with every word as his attention focuses on the crowd, then back at Paul who he stalks towards. “You, arsehole, touched what’s mine, and now you have to pay.”

“Mate, it was a misunderstanding,” Paul says, holding his hands up as he backs away.

“Dalton. Just leave it!” I protest, catching Ben’s eye who has now come out from behind the bar and is holding a baseball bat. The other regular’s stand, moving towards the pair in support of Dalton and Ben, and in warning to the group of drunken men.

“You thought you could come on to my woman and get away with it, did you?” Dalton snarls.

“I swear, this was just a huge misunderstanding. I didn’t know she was with anyone, she never said.”

“You prick!” I snap, stepping towards him. “I never gave you the impression that I was interested in you whatsoever. Where do you get off?”

“She has a fucking engagement ring on her finger, arsehole. Pretty sure that tells you she’s already taken!” Dalton adds, gripping the man by the throat and forcing him backwards roughly until his back hits the wall.

“Woah! Let’s just all calm down,” one of the other men from the party says.

“I will calm the fuck down when you’ve all gotten the fuck out of my town!” Dalton growls, his fingers tightening around Paul’s throat. He’s already turning a deep red from lack of oxygen.

“Dalton, just let him go,” I plead, gripping his arm, feeling the tension radiating through his muscles as Paul gasps for breath.

Dalton’s gaze flickers between me and Paul, his jaw clenched tightly. After a moment of intense silence, he releases his grip on Paul's throat, who doubles over, coughing. The other men quickly move in to help their friend up as Dalton stands there, seething with anger.

"You're lucky Daisy stopped me," Dalton growls, his voice low and dangerous. "If I ever see you in this town again, you won't be so fortunate. Now get the fuck out of this bar!"

Paul nods frantically, his eyes wide with fear as he stumbles away with his friends, leaving the bar in a hurry. A moment later, Ben approaches us, setting the baseball bat down on the nearest table.

“You good?” he asks Dalton.

“I’m fucking pissed off,” Dalton replies through gritted teeth, the muscle in his jaw flexing. “I should’ve killed the fucker.”

“I had no idea Daisy was in trouble. I couldn’t see past the group of men,” Ben explains, flicking me a look of guilt.

“It’s fine, Ben,” I say on a soft breath.

“It’s not your fault,” Dalton says, glancing at Ben before lifting his hand to rub his forehead.

“I hope you’re not suggesting that it’s—” I begin.

“But it is my responsibility to keep you safe,” he cuts me off, his eyes darting over me, checking for any signs of further harm as he steps closer.

“I’m fine. I was handling it,” I protest, but he just closes the gap between us and cups my face, his fingers curling into my hair.

“Hitting him around the head with your handbag is not handling it,” he replies tightly. “I told you to come home.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” I hiss, aware we have an audience.

“Clearly, someone has to,” he snaps back.

“I was just grabbing a quick drink.”

“You were avoiding me, and look what happened, some fucking cunt tried to molest you. You are my fiancé, Daisy,” he mutters, his gaze dropping from my eyes to my lips and back again. “And it’s my duty to take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” I snort with laughter, annoyed at the way he’s trying to control me as I lower my voice and say, “Didn’t we recently establish that you’re not doing a particularly good job at that?”

“That’s not fair. I came here, didn’t I?” he asks, chest heaving with residual anger.

“To drag me home, like you have any right to do that.”

“I think I’ll leave you to it,” Ben says, chuckling as he walks away.

“It’s just as well that I did come,” Dalton grinds out.

“I was handling it!” I repeat, trying to rip out of his hold, but he reaches up with his free hand and yanks me against his body.

“You were not!” he snaps.

“You’re making a scene!”

“I can’t fucking take care of you if you’re swanning around doing fuck knows what,” he says, completely ignoring what I’ve just said.

“I was visiting Daphne at the café, then I went shopping, then I came here to have a drink. It’s my day off, I was not swanning around,” I reply tightly, my hands pressing against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it only seems to fuel his ire further, and he just tightens his grip. “Dalton, people are looking,” I protest.

His eyes spark with defiance as his lips curl up in a smirk. “I’m very aware that we’re in public, Daisy,” he warns.

“Don’t you–”

His lips slam against mine, swallowing my protest with a fierce kiss, and this time I can’t knee him in the balls because we’re out in public with an audience, and we have to act like a couple in love, albeit a couple in love who’re fighting.

So I let him kiss me. I let him plunder my mouth with his tongue, and fist my hair so tightly that my scalp tingles with pain-pleasure that somehow makes this whole kiss more electric. This kiss is an act of defiance against my need for personal space. It’s an act of possession that has me questioning his motives, and I hate myself for succumbing to the physical rush it elicits. I’m suddenly hyper aware of the way his body is pressed so tightly against mine, how his thick arms hold me, how he tastes of peppermint, how his familiar scent fills my nostrils, and how I kiss him back.

The people around us fade into the background as I find myself melting into his embrace, my initial anger giving way to a confusing mixture of desire and frustration. I hate this man, and yet my body seems to think otherwise. It’s an uncomfortable feeling to say the least.

Yet, I don’t make any effort to push him away, and like that time back at ‘M’ when he’d proposed, I find myself leaning into the kiss, my fingers curling into the thin material of his shirt, holding on tight when I should be letting go. Telling myself this is all for show, that this kiss is nothing but a stipulation in a contract. That it means nothing.

But this kiss is like a hurricane, whipping up a storm around us, between us. I imagine our feet lifting off the ground, carried by the wind as we hold on to each other tightly. My fingers bite into my palms, the material of his shirt doing nothing to prevent the deep grooves forming in my skin. And that’s what it feels like to be kissed by Dalton, pricks of pain and anguish, the tiny crescents marking me in a way that hurts. Despite the pain, I find myself craving more of Dalton's touch. His kisses are like a drug, intoxicating and addictive.

It's not until I feel Dalton's cock thickening between us that I manage to gather my thoughts together enough to break the kiss. With a gasp, I push against his chest again, this time with more force, my cheeks flushing furiously at his arousal.

"Dalton, please, let me go," I manage to whisper.

He doesn't immediately comply, his grip on me loosening slightly but still keeping me close. His eyes blaze with intensity as he studies my face, looking as dishevelled and affected by the kiss as I feel.

“I would’ve broken his legs for you, Daisy,” he says roughly.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” I reply, my cheeks flushing a deeper pink as I untangle myself from his arms and put much needed space between us.

“It wasn’t supposed to.”