The Rogue and His Flower (Princetown Heirs #2)

Chapter 33

DAISY

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“We’re having a dinner party tonight. Some business acquaintances will be in attendance, alongside their wives. I take it you’ve recovered enough to attend?” Carl asks, looking up at me from across the table as we eat breakfast, his steely blue eyes narrowing.

My stomach drops. Despite another week passing since Dalton and I spoke with Dr. Wigmore, and despite feeling physically better, emotionally I’m not. The thought of having to be in the company of strangers makes my stomach coil with nausea. I’m not myself. I haven’t even been able to talk openly with Dalton about possible IVF treatment, let alone our relationship, his feelings about everything, or our future for that matter. The last thing I want to do is entertain Carl’s business acquaintances and their wives with small talk.

“I–” I begin, but Dalton cuts in.

“No. Daisy’s still recovering,” he says, eyeing his father with disdain.

“Forgive me,” Carl says, narrowing his eyes at me and giving me a look that tells me he couldn’t care less about my forgiveness, “But if you’ve been able to leave the house and visit with your brother since leaving hospital, then I think an hour or two sitting at a dinner table should be manageable, no?”

“I said she’s still recovering,” Dalton persists through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Carl retorts, levelling his gaze with Dalton before looking back at me.

Dalton’s curled fist slams against the table, making the crockery and plates jump from the force. “And I don’t give a fuck, she isn’t going.”

“Dalton, please…” I whisper, shaking my head at him.

“Daisy? Is there something you wish to share?” Carl asks, lifting a brow, his gaze falling to my red jumper with yellow embroidered daisies sewn across it. I wore it purposefully in the hope that it would make me feel better, it doesn’t. Nothing is making me feel better. “Well?” he insists, and I don’t like the way he’s staring at me, as though trying to delve into my head and claw out my thoughts.

“I’m still a little tired, but I think I can manage a dinner party,” I say softly, dropping my gaze back to my bowl of half-eaten yoghurt and fruit, wishing I was far, far away from here.

The need to run away has been building with every passing day. I hate that I feel that way, and I know it isn’t fair to push Dalton away after he’s repeatedly tried to talk with me, but I can’t help feeling like this. I just need time to heal, to grieve, to figure out how to move forward. I love Dalton, that hasn’t changed, but that love has been tinged with so much sadness and disappointment, and this dreadful feeling of not being enough. We both know that there are no guarantees with IVF and if I can’t have his baby, where does that leave us? He can tell me all he likes that the contract doesn’t matter, but we both know that it does.

“Excellent. It will be a semi-formal affair, so be sure to dress accordingly,” he says, before pushing up from his seat and striding from the room.

“Daisy, you don’t have to do this,” Dalton says as I move to stand, wanting to get away, to go back to my room, curl up on my bed and sleep.

If Carl has noticed that we haven’t been sharing a bedroom since our return from the hospital, then he hasn’t said anything. I don’t suppose he cares how we choose to sleep at night, because as far as he’s concerned this is still a marriage of convenience, not a chance to indulge in an actual, healthy relationship. And even if this wasn’t a marriage of convenience, then it’s become very apparent that women to him are just trophies to parade around and vessels to impregnate. I can’t imagine he’s ever shared his inner sanctuary with a woman outside of fucking them.

“It’s fine. It’ll just be a couple of hours,” I reply. “I’ll see you later. I think I might just go and lie down for a bit.”

“Daisy…”

With a heavy heart I ignore the pleading tone in Dalton’s voice, and simply turn on my heel and leave.

“This is Daisy, my son’s wife,” Carl says loudly, cupping my elbow as soon as I enter the reception hall and guiding me towards several men in suits who are standing with their partners on the other side of the room with Dalton.

“Daisy, I was just about to come and get you,” Dalton says, traversing through the crowd towards me. He gives his father a dark look, taking my hand in his and drawing me out of his hold.

“There was no need. I’m perfectly fine,” I reply, trying my best to act accordingly, when all I want to do is curl up on my bed and sleep.

Music is playing softly as we gather together, and some of Carl’s guests assess me with curiosity whilst the others look over at me with polite disinterest. I plaster on a smile, nodding my head in greeting as Carl introduces me to each of the couples in turn. When he said he’d be entertaining some business acquaintances, I’d expected maybe a handful of people at most, but there are at least twenty men here with their wives, and I feel a little overwhelmed with the sheer number of strangers I’m expected to engage with.

“And this is William Black and his wife Florence,” Carl says, after reeling off several names, all of which I’ve forgotten. “He’s overseeing the redevelopment of our very first hotel in Paris. It should be open within a month or so.”

“A hotel in Paris?” Dalton questions. “I wasn’t aware of this new venture.”

“It was a fairly recent decision. We had to move quickly, and given you were away on your honeymoon, and apparently unreachable, I decided to go ahead and offer over and above the asking price,” Carl explains. “Most of the hotel is already in good condition, I’ve just wanted to add the Gunn family flare, and William has been instrumental in securing the deal, and making sure the construction team and interior design staff are working to our very rigorous timetable. No point in wasting time, is there?”

Dalton’s nostrils flare, and if looks could kill, Carl would be already six feet under.

William clears his throat, casting his gaze between father and son, sensing the tension there. “It’s nice to meet you, Daisy,” he says warmly.

“You too,” I reply, offering him my hand as my gaze flicks to his wife, a woman several decades younger than him.

She dips her head, giving me a gentle, almost serene smile, and I feel Dalton’s hand tightening around my fingers right at the same time I notice her other hand resting on her rounded belly. I try to ignore the stab of pain that shoots through me at the sight of Florence’s pregnancy bump, only serving to remind me of my own very recent loss.

“Congratulations,” I offer weakly, plastering on another smile whilst inside I’m crumbling.

“Yes, wonderful news,” Carl adds, turning his attention to Florence. “William tells me you’re due to give birth in early summer.”

“Four months, and our baby will be here,” she replies, her cheeks flushing with pride as William presses his hand against her belly.

“Well, we certainly hope that it won’t be very long before Daisy will be carrying my grandchild,” Carl says, looking at me intently.

I blanch from his scrutiny, taking an involuntary step backwards.

“We’ve just recently married, father. There’s plenty of time for that,” Dalton says, his voice tight.

Carl raises a brow, before covering up his annoyance with a broad smile as hollow as the man himself. “There’s no time like the present, wouldn’t you agree, Daisy?” he says looking at me pointedly, reminding us both of the contract we signed all those weeks ago.

My cheeks heat, this entire conversation feeling like some kind of trap, but Dalton expertly steers the conversation in another direction, saving me from further humiliation.

After a few more minutes, I excuse myself, feeling Dalton’s gaze on me as I wander across to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass of water despite Tessa offering to pour it for me.

“Mrs Gunn, are you alright?” she asks, her soft brown eyes looking at me with concern as my hands tremble.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all,” I reply, taking a sip on the glass of water.

“Perhaps you should excuse yourself,” she suggests.

“I’m not sure that would go down very well with Carl,” I murmur.

“But you’ve just recently come out of hospital. Mr Gunn would understand,” she says, frowning a little, her gaze drifting to Carl, who by all accounts is having a wonderful time charming his guests.

“That doesn’t matter to him.”

“Surely he realises that losing that amount of blood is an indication of?—”

“No!” I snap, her eyes widening as I shake my head at her.

“You were bleeding heavily,” she counters in a whisper, her face paling as my lips start to tremble. “I was certain that you…”

“Stop,” I whisper, trying and failing to prevent the tears from slipping from my eyes.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” she asks, lowering her voice as she reaches for me once again.

I shake my head, swiping at my eyes. “He thinks I had my appendix out. Please, you can’t say anything.”

“Oh no. No, I wouldn’t,” she assures me, squeezing my hand.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“They’re coming this way,” she adds quickly, “Go and freshen up. I’ll make your excuses.”

As Tessa smoothly intervenes, leading the others to the formal dining room, I retreat to the bathroom, grateful for a moment's reprieve as I lean against the vanity unit and close my eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. But they come anyway, stubbornly tracing a path down my cheeks as I try to steady my breathing. It takes me a while to gather myself together enough to even consider joining the guests, but eventually I dry my eyes and wipe away the mascara staining my skin.

Moments later there’s a soft knock at the door.

“Daisy, are you in there?”

It’s Dalton.

“Just give me a moment,” I reply, washing my hands and drying them.

I take a deep breath before finally opening the door to face him. He looks as harrowed as I feel, and it’s all I can do not to fall into his arms and sob.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair. “That must’ve been hard for you to see.”

“It’s not your fault,” I reply. “I need to just deal with it. I’m going to be seeing a lot of pregnant women in the future.”

“You shouldn’t have to just deal with it. You shouldn’t have to attend this damn gathering any more than you should have to hide what’s happened to you.”

“We don’t have a choice,” I say.

“What if I can get us away from here and out of sight of my father?”

“How? What are you suggesting?”

“He just mentioned the hotel in Paris. If I can convince him to give me a role as a manager, would you be willing to come with me? You could get treatment in France, we could make this work, and you won’t have to worry about my father finding out. It needn’t be a permanent move.”

“What about Drix, Lia and Toby?” I ask, feeling the tiniest glimmer of hope, despite being more than a little sad at the prospect of leaving them, if only temporarily.

“I’m sure they’d be supportive, and it’s not as if they can’t come to visit. What do you think?”

“Will Carl go for it?” I ask, chewing on my lip.

“I can be very persuasive, Daisy. Leave it with me, okay?”

I nod, feeling a surge of gratitude wash over me at the prospect of escaping this suffocating situation, and the possibility of becoming pregnant via IVF treatment, and I cling on to it with all my might.

“I trust you,” I say, and his eyes hold mine for a moment, a silent promise passing between us before he takes my hand in his and we head back to the party.