Chapter 25
DAISY
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As I sit gazing at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes accented with warm shades of gold, my lips adorned with soft pink, and my hair cascading in curls around my face, I release a quiet sigh.
It’s finally our wedding day, a day when I should be filled with joy and excitement, ready to start a new life with my husband. Instead a heaviness weighs down my heart, settling in my stomach like a lead balloon.
I chose this.
I chose to sign the contract to marry Dalton Gunn.
A man who I have a complicated relationship with. A man who, for a long time, I hated. And now? I don’t even know what we are.
Over the past couple of months we’ve fought, insulted each other, laughed together, been awkward in each other’s company, spent time together, shared secrets and past hurts, kissed out of obligation, kissed each other in lust, made ourselves come whilst the other watched.
We’ve fucked…
Our relationship is complicated to say the least. We’re hesitant, uncertain, and of late have been oscillating between friends that fuck and something… more, something neither of us can define. Like the first buds of spring pushing up through frost-dusted soil, feelings have begun to grow, delicate yet fragile.
Oh so fragile.
We’re attracted to each other, that much is clear. We’ve begun to open up, slowly revealing ourselves bit by bit, but is it foolish to hope that something deeper could bloom from such a tumultuous foundation? I can’t deny the yearning in my heart for something real, something everlasting, something I’m not certain we can give each other despite the vows we’re going to make today.
The other night when I’d awoken from that awful nightmare, Dalton had held me, he’d soothed me, he’d helped me to obliterate my father’s cruelty with pain, he’d fucked me, and yet… It felt like more than just sex. It felt like coming home. But afterwards when all I’d felt was relief, when I’d cried tears of release, I’d seen fear in his gaze, and even though he’d laid down beside me, there was a distance between us, a chasm. Eventually I’d fallen asleep, and when I’d awoken and found myself alone, I’d felt bereft.
Why had he left? Did he not feel what I felt?
Maybe I was hoping for something that simply wasn’t there. Maybe I’m just a fool.
“You can do this, Daisy,” I say to my reflection, shaking off those feelings, refusing to wallow in self-pity.
I have to remember why I’m doing this, it’s the only thing keeping me from curling up into a ball and letting a torrent of tears wash away the makeup I’ve spent the morning trying to perfect. As I pick up a deep brown eyeliner to add the finishing touch to my eyes, a faint knock at the door interrupts me. I glance at my phone resting on the dressing table, it’s a quarter past twelve, in a little over an hour I will officially become Mrs Dalton Gunn.
“Come in,” I reply softly, placing the kohl liner back on to my dressing table.
Tessa, a kind woman with dark hair and gentle eyes that I've briefly chatted with a few times since I moved in, stands at the door. She’s been a maid for the Gunn family for years, and whilst I’ve not had the chance to get to her know her fully, she’s always offered me a kind smile and whispered hello’s whenever we’ve crossed paths in this huge mansion I now call home, even if it’s far from homely.
“Mr Gunn asked me to bring you this,” Tessa says, stepping into the room, holding onto a cloth garment bag, the white material zipped up so I can’t see what’s inside.
“Carl?” I ask, frowning.
“No, Dalton,” she replies, stepping into my room as she hangs it up on the open door of my wardrobe, right next to the wedding dress I bought with Lia, a beautiful cream and gold embroidered gown that now seems to mock me with everything it represents.
I turn back to Tessa, frowning. “What is it?” I question.
“He said it was a gift to you, something new,” she explains softly, her eyes darting to the wardrobe where the bag now hangs. “He also wanted me to give you this.”
Reaching inside the pocket of her dress she pulls out an envelope, handing it to me. “Would you like me to stay and help you with your dress?”
“Thank you, yes, I’d appreciate that…” I reply, my voice catching.
Lia had offered to come this morning, knowing I’d have no one else, but I’d told her that it wasn’t necessary. Truth is, I couldn’t face another conversation about Dalton and our relationship, despite how supportive and understanding she’s been. Opening the envelope, I find a handwritten note from Dalton, his neat cursive a blur of words that make my heart clench with unexpected emotion.
Dear Daisy,
As you already know I tend to say and do the wrong thing and fuck things up, so instead I wanted to give you something that I hope will, at the very least, make this wedding bearable, it begins, the words so simple yet so laden with unspoken feelings. But what I will say is this; whilst I can’t give you your dream wedding, I can give you your perfect wedding dress.
“What?” I whisper, my eyes flicking to the cloth garment bag, before I drag my gaze back to the letter.
I took the liberty of contacting Matilda a few days after you showed me your drawing, and she very graciously agreed to bring your beautiful design to life. I hope it’s everything you wished for. Even if I can’t make you truly happy like a husband should, then I hope this dress will give you some happiness, however fleeting, Dalton.
“He didn’t?” I say, my eyes brimming with tears as I fold the letter up and slide it back into the envelope.
“Is everything okay?” Tessa asks me, concern etched in the gentle lines of her face as she looks at me.
“Have you seen what’s inside?” I ask her, trying to compose myself as I reach for the garment bag.
“No, Miss, I haven’t,” she replies.
With trembling fingers, I unzip the bag, gasping at the beautiful layered chiffon that reveals itself to me. The dress is breathtaking, a vision of pale pink, baby blue, soft yellow, subtle green and muted lilac that seems to shift and change colour as I run my hands over the delicate fabric. An exact replica of my design, the dress is like a rainbow woven together, each hue blending seamlessly into the next, creating a stunning ombre effect that takes my breath away. More tears blur my vision as I run my fingers over the coloured gems that adorn the bodice catching the sunlight that filters into my bedroom.
“It’s…”
“Beautiful,” Tessa says, as my own words fail me.
“It’s my design,” I whisper, my throat clogged with emotion as I’m faced with a decision. Do I wear this beautiful gown, the dress of my dreams that Dalton has gifted me, or choose the wedding dress that would meet the expectations of his father and everyone else who will be in attendance today?
I flick my gaze between the two dresses, knowing that my decision will be a pivotal moment in defining my own sense of self. The dress I had chosen with Lia, though stunning, symbolises my marriage into a family who have certain expectations of me, and only serves to remind me of that moment I signed the contract to save my brother from a life he didn’t deserve, and binding me to a man who had once only ever thought of himself.
Yet within the delicate threads of the gown Dalton unexpectedly gifted me lies a glimmer of hope, a shard of kindness and understanding amidst the chaos of my emotions. In this singular act of generosity, Dalton has given me something far more precious—a reminder that even in moments of heartache and uncertainty, there can be grace and unexpected beauty.
There really is only one choice I can make, and so with a deep breath, I slip off my dressing gown and reach for the ombre dress, a warm smile pulling up my lips.
Drix is waiting for me on the steps of St Augustine’s church as I step out of the chauffeur driven car, his expression a mixture of love, admiration, and fleeting concern that he hides with a beaming smile. I know today is hard on him, but having him here means everything to me.
“Daisy, you look incredible,” he says, as his eyes fall on my stunning wedding dress.
“Thank you,” I reply, offering him a small smile as I walk towards him, the cool breeze causing my dress to flutter around my legs in a cascade of colours.
“Your dress is exquisite,” he exclaims, grinning broadly. “Lia said it was beautiful, but this is just… So perfectly you.”
“This wasn’t the dress I chose with Lia,” I reply.
“It’s not?”
“No. This is a dress I designed. Dalton surprised me with it this morning. He had it made for me,” I say softly.
Drix’s eyes widen. “He did? That’s… thoughtful.”
“It is,” I agree. “Despite everything, Dalton is really trying, Drix. Maybe it’s time you two sorted things out?”
Drix flicks his gaze away, his expression unreadable, his jaw clenched as he processes my words. “Let’s not worry about mine and Dalton’s relationship today, okay? I’ll talk to him once this wedding is out of the way and I’ve had time to process.”
“Okay,” I nod, taking his proffered hand.
“Are you ready to do this?” he asks, giving my fingers a squeeze.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say as we walk towards the entrance of the church, the soft melody of a string quartet drifting through the air.
As we step inside the church, our entrance is hidden by a huge marble pillar, and wooden panelling. Nerves churn in my stomach at the soft murmur of people talking but with Drix by my side, I feel more grounded, more capable of facing what’s to come.
As we stand there, waiting for the music to change, signalling my entrance, I steal a glance at Drix. Our eyes meet and I give him a soft smile, silently thanking him for always being my rock.
“We’re ready,” Drix says, noticing the choir boy waiting for us, and with one brief nod the processional song begins to play.
It’s not a melody I recognise, chosen by Carl like everything else about this day has been, but it is beautiful regardless. Taking a deep breath, I slide my arm through Drix’s and we step out from behind the pillar as a sea of faces turn towards us both. Some people gasp softly, others whisper words under their breath, no doubt commenting on my wedding dress, but as I walk down the aisle, all I can focus on is Dalton waiting for me at the altar, his gaze fixed intently on me, an unreadable expression on his face.
After what feels like the longest walk of my life, we finally reach Dalton who’s wearing a beautiful tailored, navy-blue suit, and a silk tie that matches the colours of my dress. I can’t help but smile at that, my cheeks heating as I raise my gaze to meet his.
“You look so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and my breath catches at the sincerity in his voice.
I swallow hard, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions that only add to the intensity of the moment as we stare at one another. Beside me, Drix releases my arm, gently taking my hand in his before offering it to Dalton.
“Daisy is precious to me,” he mutters under his breath. “Do right by her.”
They exchange a look, and for a moment I think Dalton is going to say something he’ll regret, but instead he takes my hand in his and says, “I promise to do everything in my power to make Daisy happy for as long as she’ll let me.”
My stupid heart skips a beat at his words.
With one last kiss to my cheek, Drix steps away leaving us alone at the altar, and as the vicar begins speaking, the sound of his voice is dulled by the thrumming pulse of my blood thumping in my ears. Dalton faces me, his fingers gently clasping mine as his thumbs run gentle circles over the back of my hands. I’m confused by the look in his eyes, it makes me feel like I’m drowning and flying all at once, and I tear my eyes away stealing a glance at the stained-glass windows of the church, the sunlight casting a kaleidoscope of patterns across the stone floor.
“Daisy?” the vicar prompts, and I realise he’s been waiting for me to answer, that I’ve missed minutes of him speaking.
“S-sorry,” I stutter, blinking up at him.
“It’s time to recite your vows. Would you please repeat after me?” he asks before continuing.
I nod, swallowing hard as I listen intently, trying to focus.
“I, Daisy Hammer, take you Dalton Gunn to be my husband…” I repeat, my voice wavering as I look up at Dalton, feeling the gravity of this moment pulling at my soul. He squeezes my hand, his gaze unwavering as his eyes reflect a myriad of emotions that mirror my own tangled feelings. “To have and to hold from this day forward…”
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part,” the vicar continues.
“For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to…” I say, my throat tightening, my heart bashing against my rib cage as I swallow hard.
“To love and to cherish, until death do us part,” the vicar reminds me.
“To love and to cherish,” I whisper, tears pricking at my eyes at the words, “Until death do us part.”
Dalton’s eyes flare with heat, with a potency that makes my breath catch as I take the ring offered to me by our page boy–the child of one of Carl’s friends– and slide the wedding band onto his finger. I drop my gaze to the simple platinum ring, a sign of our commitment, and a reminder of this lie we’ve woven.
As Dalton repeats his vows, a tear escapes my cheek, the lie feeling heavy and burdensome. Dalton notices, and he raises his hand, his thumb brushing away the tear, his touch gentle, loving, which only confuses me more.
None of this is real.
It’s not real, I have to remind myself.
“To love and to cherish. Until death do us part,” Dalton finishes, his voice clear, unwavering, as he slips the ring onto my finger.
“You may now kiss the bride.” The vicar smiles, nodding at Dalton who steps forward, the heat in his gaze blazing brightly.
Cupping my face, he draws me towards him, and I step into his embrace on trembling legs as he drops his face to mine. For a moment I’m caught up in the tangled web of our deceit. My stupid heart desperately holds onto the lie, whilst my head is screaming at it to protect itself.
“You’re mine now, wife,” he says, and though his words are a soft, gentle caress there’s no denying that they’re filled with possession, with longing, with the kind of searing passion that has no place in such a sacred building, or directed at me, a woman he doesn’t love, who he’s incapable of loving by his own admission.
I gasp as his lips press against mine, and for the moment I forget the lies we’ve told, the deception woven into our vows. All I can focus on is the eddying heat between us, the crackling electricity as he kisses me like a man who’s as desperate to belong to someone as I am.
I’m at the mercy of his kiss. It’s indecent, provocative, and toe-curlingly beautiful, and all I can do is melt into his hold, unable to fight the connection between us, weakened by it.
The guests begin to clap as the vicar clears his throat. Dalton steps back and my cheeks are flaming, my heart pounding. If it wasn’t for Dalton’s arm wrapped around my waist I’m certain that my knees would give way beneath me.
It takes me a moment, but I pull myself together enough to step forward, wanting to leave, to catch my breath before I have to face everyone for photos outside, but Dalton pulls me back, clearing his throat as he raises his hand.
“Can I have your attention, please?” he says, and the clapping stops, as people turn to look at each other, as confused as I am.
I glance over at Drix, Lia and Toby. Drix is frowning, Lia has tears in her eyes and Toby is waving at me frantically, completely unaware that this isn’t what usually happens at this stage of a marriage ceremony. We should be halfway down the aisle by now.
“My wife and I will be heading directly to our honeymoon. The reception party will still go ahead, and of course you must all attend to celebrate our marriage, but we won’t be in attendance.”
“Excuse me?” Carl says, standing from his seat in the front row, glowering at us both. “We have the press waiting, Dalton!”
The press? Oh please, no.
“This isn’t up for discussion. We’re leaving now,” Dalton replies firmly.
“The hell you are!” he seethes.
“Dalton, what are you doing?” I whisper, glancing at Carl, his face turning a deep, angry red.
“What I should’ve done the second my father ruined your idea of a perfect wedding,” he replies, dropping a kiss to my head before addressing his father directly. “Daisy’s happiness is my priority, and staying here for a second longer so the vast majority of you can all pretend to be happy for us both whilst gossiping behind our backs is something that I will not tolerate. I will also not allow the press to invade our privacy. I don’t give a fuck about the deals you’ve made without our permission, father,” he snarls.
“Why you ungrateful–” Carl begins, but Dalton holds his hand up, cutting him off.
“Enjoy your evening everybody,” he says, before clasping my hand and guiding me back up the aisle as everyone breaks out into disgruntled conversation.
We rush out of the church, Dalton’s hand tight around mine. I stumble a little on my dress, almost falling down the steps outside, but he reaches for me, sliding his arm around my back and knees, picking me up with a determined set of his jaw as he cradles me in his arms.
“Dalton, I can walk,” I say, more heat flooding my cheeks as he carries me swiftly towards the waiting limousine.
“We need to leave before the press catches wind of what’s happened,” he bites out as I steal a glance at his profile, his jaw clenched in resolve, his eyes focused ahead.
“But where are we going?” I ask, as he gently places me back on my feet and opens the waiting car’s passenger door. “I don’t have anything packed.”
“Somewhere we can be alone,” he replies cryptically, as I slide onto the seat, making room for him beside me. “And I took care of your clothes. Don’t worry, you’ll have everything you need.”
“But your father… the guests, the reception party he’s organised,” I say, a little helplessly.
“Fuck my father. Fuck the guests. Fuck the reception party. The only person I give a shit about is you,” he replies, before turning his attention to the driver. “Take us to the airport, my private jet is waiting for us.”