8. Ready to Get Hitched?
8
READY TO GET HITCHED?
CHARLES
“Dave, can you please pull over at the next light?”
Upon Daisy’s request, my bodyguard meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, waiting for my confirmation. But I turn to Daisy beside me in the limo.
“It’s the middle of the workday, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I know it’s tough, but I was hoping you wouldn’t be playing a tyrant boss and could drop me home so I can change. I don’t feel comfortable in someone else’s clothes. Plus, I worry the longer I wear this, the higher the chance of a stain or tear.”
“No need,” I tell Dave, who continues driving.
“Charles! I’m your employee, not your slave. There’s something called labor laws—”
“Will you just relax for a bit? I had something delivered to the office for you.”
This dress is all wrong on her. Not because of her friend’s stupid remark about the neckline, but because my assistant looks best in the usual soft colors she prefers to wear. Pink, purple, blue—that’s Daisy. White is just too bland for her.
She gasps. “You did what?”
But instead of looking her way, I turn my head, focusing on the passing scenery outside. I catch a grin on my reflection in the window and kill it immediately.
“I’ve already wasted half my day with this ridiculous interview. I have no desire to waste the rest.”
She falls silent for a moment and then asks slowly, “How did you even know my size?”
“I didn’t.” But I’m sure my guess is fairly accurate.
Growing up with a sister who was crazy for fashion design is definitely paying off for once.
“This is so…”
“Thoughtful?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”
“I was going to say weird, but sure, whatever feeds your already inflated ego.”
This time, I have to bite down on my lip to stifle a smile. After the stressful morning and the soul-sucking interview, my heart rate is finally finding its normal pace.
After another second of pause, Daisy says, “I heard part of your interview. Jimmy turned on his phone for me. I think it went very well.”
She trails off as if there’s something more she wants to say but is holding back, and I absolutely hate that she’s keeping her thoughts away from me. Despite my aversion to unnecessary talks, Daisy’s chatter, sometimes teasing me and other times subtly trying to fix my life, has become an indispensable part of my life.
“What happened this morning?”
“I already told you about the cake—”
“I am not asking about your grand accident, Daisy. Why the hell weren’t you at the town hall early like we planned?”
Even though I know there must be a very good reason for her absence, I’m unable to hide my irritation. I remember the moment when I found myself wedged between Jimmy and the mayor, facing ten unfamiliar faces all eager to dig into my personal life. My chest tightened to the point of pain, the air around me seeming to thin.
Daisy’s eyes blaze with a fire I’ve always admired, yet she remains silent, her lips pressed tightly together.
“It was personal,” she finally whispers.
I reach for the button next to my seat, raising the privacy shield.
“What the heck?” She jumps in her seat. “Since when has that thing been there?” She points at the black screen as if it’s a piece of forbidden witchcraft.
“Since always.”
“Why the heck do you need it?” Her eyes widen as she shifts her gaze between the screen and me. “Oh my goodness! Please don’t tell me this is where you’re hooking up with your special someone.”
“What?”
“In the interview, you mentioned there’s a special woman in your life. Is this where you meet her?” She wrinkles her nose, her hands lifting from the leather seat as if she’s just touched something gross.
“I meant GG, my great-grandmother. Do you think I have the privacy screen so I can fuck women in the back of my car?”
If only she knew.
“Well, not exclusively for that, but I guess…if someone wants, it could come in handy.” Her words finally slow down, as if she’s struggling to keep up with her wild thoughts.
“I’m shocked and worried about the way your mind works sometimes. No, Daisy, the privacy screen is for times when I need to have private conversations—private business conversations that my driver and bodyguard don’t need to hear.”
She releases the bottom lip she’s been biting, unknowingly distracting the hell out of me, and finally, a smile spreads across her face.
“It fits, you know. Private screen for a private, complicated man like you.”
I didn’t know she thinks of me as complicated. At least around her, I feel like my life is uncomplicated.
“Not so private, it seems, since you’re sitting on this side of it and not the other.”
She grins, but it immediately drops when I ask, “Now, if you’re done irritating me, I’ll ask again. What happened this morning? Jimmy and Dave told me you were at your parents’ place.”
All the playfulness disappears from her face, replaced by something akin to pain.
“Daisy?” I’m about to reach out to her and hold her hand fisting the silk of the white dress, when Dave’s voice fills the cramped space.
“We’re reaching the parking lot, sir.”
The moment breaks, and Daisy puts on a smile that is as bad as a high school musical performed without a single rehearsal.
“It’s nothing, and I’m so sorry, once again, for being late.”
Before I can tell her to cut the bullshit, the car stops. She’s already sprinting toward the elevator when Dave opens my door.
“There’s a delivery coming in for Daisy. Please make sure it reaches her.” I’m about to walk away but stop. “You were with Daisy this morning, correct?”
Dave gives a confirming nod, prompting my next question.
“What happened at her parents’ place?”
My bodyguard’s gaze moves from me to my assistant, standing in the open elevator waiting for me, one hand probably on the button to keep the door open.
“I believe it has something to do with her father. I’m sure she’ll have more details for you, sir.” Dave’s tone is earnest and respectful.
I linger for a moment longer, in case he has something more for me, but when that seems to not be the case, I reply, “Very well. I’ll check with her.”
With a parting nod to Dave and Steve, I walk away and slip inside the elevator. As soon as the door closes, my phone springs to life with Jimmy’s face flashing on the screen. My groan resonates in the metal enclosure.
“What’s that for?” Daisy punches in the code for our office floor, where only a select few have access. When I show her the screen, a slow grin pulls on her lips. “He might be calling to tell you how amazing you were today.”
“That would be a refreshing change. Finally, after four years, I’ve made the head of PR happy,” I quip, tucking my phone away. “Dave will bring your clothes shortly. Once you’re ready, let’s go over the day.” I hope to finally get answers about her unexpected absence this morning.
As I step into my office, Jimmy’s call rings through once again, and I answer. “Contrary to what you may think, I don’t spend my days sitting around waiting for your calls like some lovesick teenager. I have a business to run.” I sink into my chair, which groans under my weight, mimicking my voice.
“Have you seen the news?” Jimmy’s tone lacks its usual agitation.
“No, thank you. I’ve had my fill of entertainment for the day. Besides, the TV in my office is reserved for business news, not media gossip.”
“Just turn it on, Charles. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.”
An uneasy feeling starts to churn in my chest at Jimmy’s flat voice. I reach for the remote and switch on the TV, but the ground beneath my feet shifts the moment I see my back, clad in the same black suit I’m wearing now, and hear Daisy’s voice. “I love you the most.”
“Does Charles Hawthorne have a secret love interest?”
My jaw tightens as a reporter narrates the circus of speculations.
“Charles Hawthorne hinted today that he has a special someone in his life. We all thought it was a joke—”
Because it fucking was.
“—but our sources have shared that a mystery woman dressed in a peach bikini—”
It was so not peach.
“—opened the door to Mr. Hawthorne’s suite at the Cherrywood Town Hall today. She jumped right into Charles’ arms as he walked in.”
She fucking didn’t.
“Sometime later, Charles Hawthorne left town hall with the same woman, now dressed in a long white dress. Is the most talked about bachelor finally ready to get hitched?”
Jimmy’s aggravated voice rings through. “Why the hell wouldn’t you say anything to me? Do you know I’ve been almost on the verge of a heart attack, planning ways to distract the media from your bachelor status until you officially inherit the family business?” Jimmy doesn’t even pause to calm his rapid breathing, while my gaze is fixed on an unrecognizable image of Daisy on the TV screen, her words echoing in my mind.
I love you the most.
My phone chimes, alerting me of an incoming text. I put Jimmy on speaker as he rambles on and on about his recent visit to his cardiologist.
Ronald Grint, Anti-Charles Board Member: I’m impressed with how you managed to keep such big news under wraps, Charles. But with the media’s fixation on the Hawthorne family, I completely understand your need for privacy. I want to invite you and your lovely fiancée for dinner at my home, to formally apologize for my behavior at the last board meeting. But I still maintain my stance. Cherrywood is our charming family town, and only someone who desires to raise their own family here will be able to understand the real needs of the townspeople. But now that we know you clearly are that person, you have my full support as the next CEO of Hawthorne Holdings.
What the fuck?
There are so many things in this text that demand attention, but my gaze can’t move away from the word fiancée.
Grandma Irene: Charles, my assistant’s phone is ringing off the hook with calls from the board members. They want to reconvene to discuss their preferences for the CEO position. Do you know what prompted this change?
“Hawthorne, are you even paying attention?” Jimmy’s bark snaps me back to reality.
“No. What did you say?” I run my hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the situation.
How did a simple interview spiral into this chaos?
But isn’t this what I wanted? For the media and board members to see me in a new light?
But this is a lie.
Not really. It’s just a misunderstanding that seems to have worked in your favor.
What the hell are you thinking, Charles? In a few hours, the truth will come out and everything will go back to how it was.
“I asked, who’s the girl?”
“Who?” I absentmindedly run a hand over my jaw.
“Your special someone. Who else?”
“It’s Daisy.” And not anyone special.
“Daisy,” Jimmy repeats slowly.
The word, tinged with awe, sends a zing of uneasiness my way.
“It all makes sense now. How did I not see it before? You and Daisy? Of course. She’s funny, intelligent, and beautiful. She knows how to handle you and keep your tantrums in check. You’re so different around her. There’s no one more perfect for you than her.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
My tantrums? Daisy handling me? What am I, a dog?
“You’ve never been seen with anyone because you spend all your time hiding away from the media with her. ”
Jimmy’s words slowly start to sink in as my phone continues to buzz incessantly with sounds of incoming texts. Shareholders who were reluctant with me taking over as the CEO of Hawthorne Holdings are inviting me and my imaginary fiancée to dinners and charity balls.
There’s a knock on the door, and I swiftly turn off the TV.
“Jimmy, I need to end the call.”
He responds with a hum, possibly still in shock, but I have bigger things to address right now. Like my assistant poking her head through the door after another knock.
“Are you on a call?” she whispers, eyes wide, and I shake my head slowly. She’s dressed in a sky-blue skirt and a matching silk blouse. “Thanks for these, by the way.”
Daisy motions in the general direction of her body, and my gaze momentarily drifts to her girls .
Focus, Charles.
“I was going to pay you back immediately, but after seeing the price tag, I realize I might have to sell my soul in order to do so. If it’s okay with you, I’m going to pay you back in installments.”
“I’m not asking you for your money.” I amble back to my chair.
“No, you’re not. But I can’t just randomly accept clothes from my boss, right? It would be wrong and unethical on so many levels. And why would you pay for my things anyway? I am your assi—”
“Daisy, stop.” I hold up my hand. “I’m not taking your money, period.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t need your money.” This woman can be so infuriating sometimes.
Are you seriously considering doing this?
“Then can’t you say it’s a gift?”
“What?”
She tweaks her nose in pure annoyance. “ It’s a gift, Daisy. How hard is that to say?”
“Is it your birthday? Or some National Assistant Day?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not my birthday. But you don’t pay someone for a gift. If you say it’s a gift, I know you don’t expect me to pay you.” She looks at me with blazing eyes, as if I’m the one at fault here. Me, the person who bought her clothes and is refusing to take any money for it.
“Daisy, my competent and cherished assistant,” I begin, but she snorts, those squinted eyes crinkling as she smiles. Something zaps through me like a lightning strike. Outside of my family, she’s the only one I’m this comfortable with. “There’s no one in the world who can replace you in this office. And for everything you’ve done for me and this business, I’d like you to keep these clothes as a thank-you.”
“They aren’t that expensive, especially if we’re talking about everything I’ve done for you.” She grins wide.
Guilt slithers like a serpent inside me, realizing how much I’ll be asking of her if we go ahead with the plan slowly forming in my head.
“But since you asked so politely, I’ll accept it graciously.” She pinches the corners of her skirt and curtsies. As she bends forward, her sky-blue rhinestone hair clip catches my eye.
“How many of those do you have?”
“You noticed my clips?” Her hand moves to her hair.
“They’re hard to miss,” I admit, fighting the urge to shift on my feet, feeling like a young boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
“These were my mom’s. She loved hair jewelry, and my dad gifted her a new piece every year on their anniversary and her birthday. She had one in every color imaginable.” Daisy’s face flushes with warmth, a mix of awe and longing shadowing her expression.
I know she lost her mom a few years ago. Before I can offer my apologies or sympathy, she changes the discussion.
“Did Jimmy call you? I thought I heard him.” Her downturned lips lift slightly, though sadness lingers in her eyes, and for a moment I feel a pang in my chest as if I feel her pain.
“Did you see the news?” I ask instead, ignoring the strange emotion. Why else would she not be freaking out?
“Um, no.” Her head turns toward the black TV screen, and slowly her eyes widen. “They are already showing your interview. Wasn’t it scheduled for the nightly news?”
As she reaches for the remote, I lunge forward, placing my hand over it.
Daisy arches an eyebrow. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Has anyone called you?”
“Um, no. My phone battery just died. I’ve plugged it in to charge. What’s going on, Charles? You’re seriously weirding me out right now.”
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask, and before she can say anything, quickly add, “And I really want you to do it.” I’m not above begging at this point.
She nods, her eyes still wide.
“Don’t turn on your computer, TV, or phone. Basically, don’t go online.”
“What? How will I work?”
“Do anything that doesn’t involve going online.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue, Daisy. Just do it,” I insist, but she doesn’t budge and keeps staring at me, questioning my sanity. “I’ll explain everything in an hour. I promise.”
“Fine,” she finally huffs, squinting at me. “You’ve got an hour. But I better hear the full story after that.”