Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
There was nothing for it. Daisy had not grown more comfortable with the daring skirt as the hours slipped by. If anything, she’d become even more aware of it. The too short length, the silken glide of it against her skin. It made itself known each time she moved, whether walking or sitting.
It didn’t fade into the background as Daisy herself tried to. Feeling as if she’d done something wrong, she fussed with the hem, smoothing the skirt down her thighs.
Don’t embarrass me, Claire had said.
Heat suffused her cheeks just thinking about it.
She’d already tripped in Mr. Blackwell’s office, clumsy as ever.
If that hadn’t been enough, people kept watching her.
Eyeing her before they whispered amongst themselves so Daisy couldn’t hear.
They looked away as soon as she noticed them.
Humiliated, she kept her head low, ignoring all the passing stares. Pretending none of it was happening.
As soon as she sat down from her trip to the copier, her phone trilled. Startled, Daisy recoiled from the blaring sound, almost knocking her chair over in the process. Scrambling to pick up the receiver before the third ring could shock her nerves even more, she jammed it to her ear.
“Daisy Bloom, how may I help you?”
“Bring me the quarterly projections,” Mr. Maxwell said. No greeting. Just the gruff demand.
“Yes, sir. Of course. At once,” she babbled, already jumping up from her chair. Only a dull tone met her. He’d already hung up.
Snatching up the files, she thumbed through the tabs even though she knew them by heart. Telling herself to breathe, to just walk. Not say something stupid. Scurrying down the short stretch of hallway, she rushed to his door.
Hand raised, knuckles at the ready to knock, Daisy hesitated. Her lungs worked overtime, little gasping breaths that gave her no oxygen. Steadying herself, she sucked in a deep lungful through her nose and let it out slowly through her mouth. Did it twice more.
Telling herself she belonged there and not believing a word of it, she knocked.
“Come in.”
Daisy eased the door open, a brittle smile pinned to her lips that fell at once. Mr. Blackwell was standing. Jacket off, sleeves rolled up the thick cords of his forearms. Something in Daisy’s chest clenched, twisting up on itself as her lips parted over a trembling exhale.
Shuffling forward, she made it all of two steps. The short heel of her sensible pumps caught on the carpet, sending her tumbling to the floor. The papers fled from her hands, fluttering over each other as they drifted to rest on the ground.
“Oh,” Daisy cried as she fell to her knees, hands slapping against the floor to stop her fall. Crawling forward, she began gathering up the loose files. Tears rushed to her eyes, trembling along her lashes. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”
“Stop.”
That single word, spoken in a rough tone seething with command, was enough to slice through her effusive apologies, leaving her speechless. Daisy sniffled with her head hanging low, fingers left trembling aloft over the scattered files, not even daring to continue picking them up.
Mr. Blackwell moved closer, his presence swallowing her up. Suffocating her by degrees until her breaths sawed in and out, her bosom heaving. As he crouched before her, he filled Daisy’s field of vision as she peeked up at him through the fringe of her lashes.
“Stand up.”
Complying at once to the power of the command, she struggled up to her feet on trembling legs as she gathered the rest of the papers together.
Mr. Blackwell took the files from her without comment, placing them on his desk.
Knees wanting to fold, Daisy’s fingers strangled one another as she twisted her hands.
“You don’t usually dress like that,” he murmured.
Heat surged to her face, even the tips of her ears burning as she hung her head lower. Lips parted and came together over nothing as her words turned tail and ran back down her throat.
She hated that he noticed.
Loved that he noticed.
For two years she had dressed in quiet colors and sensible lines, pretending it didn’t matter that he never looked twice. As if she didn’t go home and replay the sound of his voice in her head every night.
She’d told herself it was admiration. Respect.
It wasn’t.
It was worse.
“I, um, I mean my friend…” Cringing at how weak and thin her voice was, Daisy blurted out, “I mean, I thought it would be less wrong—I mean normal…”
Mr. Blackwell made a sound low in his throat. Not of amusement. Not one of anger, either. His bright blue gaze lingered on her, once more traversing a path she could feel from head to toe. It burned like a brand, pushing against her skin in scalding passes.
“You don’t make decisions like this on your own,” he said, head tipping to the side a fraction of an inch. An almost curious action, though there was no question in his words.
“I try to. I just get… confused.”
“That much is obvious.”
Sinking into herself, Daisy huddled around her middle, arms wrapped tight around herself. Blinking fast and hard, she tried to hold back her tears, but they spilled free. Tracking down wan cheeks, they dripped to stain her sweater with their wetness.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, making herself even smaller.
“Don’t cry.”
Though she nodded so hard her thick blonde hair slipped down to tumble around her face, another tear slipped free.
Mr. Blackwell’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. Without thinking, Daisy leaned into the touch, a rattling sigh exploded past her lips.
“You’re here because I allow it. Because I have plans for you,” Mr. Blackwell said as he drew himself up to his full height, looking down his patrician nose at her. “You’ll do exactly what I expect. And you’ll be grateful I’m the one in charge.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep that in mind, princess.” Moving away from her towards the wide expanse of his desk, Mr. Blackwell called over his shoulder, “Bring me a coffee.”
His calling her that shot through Daisy, settling deep in her core. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, the shuddering exhale loud in the silence following his demand. Mr. Blackwell’s gaze flicked to her, a dark fire flaring in his eyes before he looked away once again.
On trembling legs, Daisy turned and fled the office, closing the door with the utmost care behind her. Nerves jangling, as soon as she hit the hallway, she bolted to the restrooms where she locked herself away in a stall. Hand slapped over her mouth, she muffled her sobs.
This stupid skirt of Claire’s was making everything so confusing. Daisy didn’t know if she’d done something wrong or not.
What she knew was that something had changed today. King Blackwell saw her in a way that made Daisy feel raw and exposed. Vulnerable. Utterly trapped.
The worst part was that a traitorous part of her wanted his attention anyway.