10. Daisy Price, Pretty Woman
10
DAISY PRICE, PRETTY WOMAN
DAISY
“What?” My pacing steps come to a halt. I definitely heard him wrong.
“Marry me,” Charles repeats.
I’m almost tempted to put my fingers inside my ears to clear out whatever junk has gone in there. Why else would Charles Hawthorne, the prince of this town, be proposing to me?
Me , for God’s sake.
“It won’t be hard to convince people that we’re in love. I’ve never been seen with anyone, because I was always here with you,” he says, tilting his head the same way he does when brainstorming business solutions.
“ Working ! You were here working with me.” My voice is breathless and my brain is frazzled.
How are the words we are in love rolling so effortlessly out of my stuck-up boss’ mouth?
“I’m aware. I was there too.” His tone is clipped, as if I’m the stupid one here.
Just thinking about how absurd this all is, a giggle escapes me.
“What are you laughing at?” His annoyed expression only makes me laugh harder. “Just stop it.”
But when I still can’t control my emotions, Charles pulls me closer. And the moment he tugs me by my forearm, not just my laugh, but everything, stops. My breathing, my heart rate, and my erratic pulse. The entire world comes to a standstill the moment Charles Hawthorne, the most coveted bachelor in town, places his hand over my lips.
“I’ve been telling you for years that you need to learn when to stop your laughing and to think before speaking, Miss Price.”
My eyes widen at his slow words and the sight of him so close.
He’s never been so freaking close that I can spot the flecks of silver, like distant stars embedded in a midnight sky, in his sapphire-blue eyes as they catch the ambient light in a dance of shadows and reflections.
And I have no choice but to nod.
When he finally removes his hand from my mouth, I take a few moments to calm myself. I can’t let him know how much he’s affecting me right now, and only when I’m sure my voice is going to sound sensible enough, I state, “It’ll never work.”
“Says who?” His jaw twitches as if my statement is almost offensive to him.
“Me.” I finally find my bearings. “ I am saying that. No one will believe we’re together.” Has he not looked in the mirror?
“Jimmy did.”
“Jimmy what?” I gasp. “You…you told Jimmy? How many people have you shared this crazy plan with?” My gaze lands on the tissue papers with Giovanni’s red, white, and green logo, and I gasp. “You told your cousins too? Didn’t they tell you it was nonsense?”
“Not really. They said it was perfect.”
“Did they now?” My eyes narrow on him, but instead of squirming in guilt like I expected him to, he flashes me his perfectly white teeth.
Is there anything that’s not perfect about this man?
“Yes. Of course they mentioned my biggest challenge would be to convince you, and I think they were right.”
There’s something in his voice that makes me shiver.
“You’re not joking, are you?” I ask carefully.
“In all these years, have you ever seen me joking, Daisy?”
“I—I suppose not. But this still isn’t possible.”
“Why not?” His voice is calm, in contrast to my insides, which feel like an overinflated balloon on the brink of bursting.
“For a hell of a lot of reasons, Charles!”
“Give me your number one.”
“Forget Jimmy. The media will never believe you fell in love with me .” Not just because he’s The Charles Hawthorne, but because I’m me, someone with crappy luck when it comes to men, who have done nothing but hurt me.
“You think I can’t be a good husband to you?”
All my female organs raise their hands. Okay, not just their hands, they do cartwheels at the word husband .
“Charles, this is not a competition, and I’m definitely not a prize.”
He takes a step closer, and his gaze drops, those smoldering orbs locking on to me and holding me captive. I can’t move, even when he lightly grazes the side of my cheek with his index finger. His eyes, never leaving mine, hypnotize me in their spell.
“You don’t realize how special you are. But I’ll spend every moment proving it to you.” His low voice has a throaty, sexy lilt that seems straight out of a romance novel.
My eyes don’t know where to look, until they decide to settle on his full lips, which look much too pink up close.
“Do you have any more questions about us?”
I nod slowly, still staring at his lips.
“What is it you want to ask, Daisy?”
I feel a flutter in my chest at the way he says my name.
“Do you wear some sort of manly lip color, Charles?” The question slips out, and Charles’ laughter fills the room, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
Instead of replying in words, he holds my shivering hand in his and brings it closer to his lips.
My eyes fall closed, and I don’t see the first time Charles Hawthorne kisses me. His soft lips seem to create a direct connection from the back of my hand to the core of my body.
“See for yourself,” he murmurs, and I open my eyes.
My senses return when I find Charles smiling at me, and I immediately take a step back.
Holy freaking crap!
“What the heck was that?”
“You said no one would believe it, but I just showed you that I’m not that bad. And with the way you reacted, I’d say we’d have no problem making everyone believe we’re in love.”
With all the smiling my boss is doing today, he could be compensating for the past four years. And if this is how he’s going to behave, I have zero doubt we’ll make this believable. But what about me? How will I remember that this version of him is just a charade?
“I still can’t do it.” I fold my arms over my chest, even when it’s an ordeal to pull away from Charles’ magic.
“Why not? Tell me your second reason.”
“Charles, stop counting my reasons and think carefully. What will happen after you become the CEO?”
“I’d like to get the position first before I start making grand plans for the future. But I guess for us, we should stay married for some more time to avoid any unwanted suspicions. So I’d say we remain married for a year or maybe even two.”
“Then what? Have you thought about the media, which is constantly running behind you with a camera? Do you think they won’t be interested to know why Charles Hawthorne is all of a sudden wifeless?”
“Couples divorce all the time, Daisy. Especially rich ones.” He pauses as if his crazy thoughts are interrupted by some bigger annoyance. “Will it be okay for you?”
“Let me see. Was it in my life plan to get divorced before I’m even twenty-five? No, not really.” I huff. “You know, I won’t even be able to live in this town, if I agree to this madness.”
He pauses for a second as if he hasn’t considered anything beyond us getting married, and then he asks in a low voice, “Is there anywhere you’ve wanted to live outside of Cherrywood?”
My mind immediately goes to all the postcards Mom and I used to collect of Italy. Our small family had big plans to travel around the world once Mom and Dad retired, but none of those came true. If I had the chance, would I leave Cherrywood? A year before, I might have considered it. I’ve lived all my life in this town, and as much as I love its charm, I know there’s a whole world beyond these majestic mountains that protect Cherrywood.
But today, there’s nothing more important than Dad.
“I can’t leave Cherrywood, not for the foreseeable future.”
“How long is that? Five years? Ten?” Charles asks sincerely, unaware of what he’s really asking me.
How long will my dad be around to need my support?
I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I…I don’t know, and I don’t like this question. Please.”
I swing my gaze away from his face. Silence lingers between us until he clears his throat.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you. But what if we don’t put an end date to this marriage?”
“Why the heck would you want to stay in a fake marriage indefinitely? What if you’re at some fancy party, sulking at the bar, and you meet a pretty girl who’s just as stuck-up as you? You click instantly, but oops! You can’t do a thing because you’re ‘married’ to your assistant.” My voice takes on a growl. I equally hate the scenario and also the fact that I’m the one reminding him of it.
“Number one, I don’t go to parties.” He raises one finger up, his face bored, as if I’m wasting his precious time. “Second, I don’t believe in the soulmate bullshit.”
“What if I do?” I seethe. “What if I go to a party and meet my soulmate, only to realize I’m married to my superrich, dense boss?”
His nostrils flare as if he’s daring me to even think about someone else, but the next second, he looks away and the spell breaks.
“How about we discuss the ending of this relationship after I’ve taken charge as the CEO? We’ll keep everything low-key, including our married lives. I’m sure in a few months we’ll be old news, and when we decide to separate, we can do it silently.”
“I…I still can’t do it, Charles.”
“I’ll buy you a house anywhere you want. Hell, I’ll get you three. You’ll receive a million dollars for every year we stay married, and every year after that, you’ll get a hefty alimony—”
“Stop! Please. I’m not an auction piece you can keep raising your bid on.” I place my hands over my ears.
Shame washes over me like an acidic downpour. I hate that even after knowing Charles’ proposal is completely insane, my brain can’t stop crunching numbers. That would be more than enough to cover Dad’s extra medical bills and anything else he might need.
“Fuck. I…I didn’t mean to be a total asshole, Daisy. I’m just desperate.” Charles’ face is sincerely contrite.
“I know, and if I could, I would help you, Charles. I know what’s on the line here. But I can’t marry you.” He’s about to say something, but I hold my hands forward. “Despite you having answers to all my reasons, there’s one even you can’t solve.”
I admire his one raised brow as if silently grumbling, “Bring it on, Daisy.”
“I want to marry for love. I watched my parents together, so in love that it was impossible to even breathe without the other. I want that for myself. And as much as I respect you, I don’t love you. I’m sorry, but my answer is no.”
This time when I storm out of his office, Charles doesn’t stop me.
I reach home and start calling the hospitals once again. I increase my search area after every half an hour on the app and call the hospitals who provide in-house nursing staff. But so far, the lowest budget I got is still so far beyond my reach. With every phone call, my confidence dwindles and Charles’ words, the money he promised, flash before me like golden stars.
“Shut the fuck up!” I close my eyes.
I’m not going to look at the imaginary golden money stars.
I cannot marry Charles for his money. It’s the twenty-first century. Women don’t need men for financial support. Yes, it would have been easier if there was someone in my life to share this anxiety with, but that someone is certainly not Charles Hawthorne.
Those gorgeous blue eyes, which I now know have silver flecks in them, don’t belong to me, and neither do those soft, full lips. I bring my hand close to my face, and for some reason it smells of Charles’ cologne. As much as I hate myself, I haven’t been able to wash my hand since I stormed out of his office after telling my boss I don’t love him.
I wrote Charles an email that I was leaving for home, and even though he didn’t reply back, Dave was waiting for me as I stepped out of the elevator.
I take another whiff of my hand when my doorbell rings, making me jump.
Crap! Is that him?
No, Daisy, you haven’t suddenly mastered the art of conjuring people with your thoughts. If you had, Charles would have appeared much earlier, considering you can’t stop thinking about him.
I slowly inch toward the main door, and a pang of unexpected disappointment washes over me at the sound of Willow’s voice.
“Daze, it’s us. Open up. It’s freezing out here.”
I swing open the door to my apartment, and my three friends file inside, along with the rich aroma of Mexican food. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten the whole day. Closing the door behind me, I return to the couch in my snug one-room apartment.
My friends have already set everything up. There are four glasses beside an uncorked bottle of wine, and paper napkins neatly arranged next to the sky-blue china plates I bought from a garage sale.
“Did we have plans that I forgot?” I flop down beside Willow on the floor, who finally looks up from her phone.
“No. This is an emergency meeting.”
“And what’s the—”
My words stop inside my mouth as she turns the screen of her phone toward me.
“I love you the most.” My breathy voice fills the room as I fixate on Charles’ figure, draped in a sleek black suit.
Until now, I haven’t seen the video clip properly. I stumbled upon it by chance when I went down to the café at the ground floor of Hawthorne Tower. A group of employees had their heads grouped above the iPad sitting before them on the table. I fled before anyone could question me about being Charles’ mystery woman.
“That’s your voice,” Willow says before swiping the screen and pointing at the second clip of me and Charles leaving the town hall and getting inside his limo. “And this is definitely you!”
“We have questions. So many.” Violet’s eyes are wild.
“But first, why was your phone switched off? We were worried,” Elodie says as she holds the wine bottle. Unlike Willow and Violet, who are so loud they could be heard on the other side of town, she’s thankfully much more relaxed.
“Charles asked me to.”
He did ask me to be offline for the first hour, and I chose to stay that way in case he decided to contact me again and throw that ridiculous offer at me once more.
“Your boss told you not to talk to us? Your best friends?” Violet gasps, rising on her knees.
Elodie tugs Violet down. “Calm down, Vi. I doubt Charles Hawthorne had us specifically in mind.”
“He didn’t want me to see the video.” I fidget in my seat, wondering if I should share what all happened today with my friends. Charles never said this was private, and he consulted his cousins.
“Because…” Violet drawls.
“Because my boss was planning to propose to me!” I throw my hands up in the air.
Looks like my brain has already made its decision.
“I knew it! Your boss is secretly pining over you. Why else would someone as handsome and sexy as Charles still be single, especially when women practically throw themselves at him?” Violet squeals, her pupils dancing like a puppy who just saw his favorite treat.
“Where is your calm-down button, Vi? No one is pining over anyone. He thinks marrying me will get the media off his back.”
“And what did you say?” Willow asks carefully, curiosity shining in her eyes as she leans forward.
“No, of course! I can’t say yes to this madness, can I?”
They all remain silent, looking at one another, until Violet breaks the quiet.
“If you say so. But he’s going to have a hard time finding a more perfect bride.”
“That’s true. How can he be sure the woman he’s marrying isn’t after his money?” Elodie shrugs before passing me a glass of wine, unaware that her words hit me right in my chest.
If I go ahead with this plan, I’d be doing the same thing. Marrying him for his money.
“Plus, there are people in this town who would do anything to see Charles Hawthorne fail,” Violet adds. “So what if the stranger does worse, like sabotage his business or ruin his image?”
My hand grabs the edge of the table at her crazy insinuation.
“Can we please talk about something else? I’m glad to see you worrying about my boss this much, but I’ve just spent half the day trying not to think about him or the video.”
They all nod, and thankfully, we get back to the food while talking about our town’s Christmas celebrations.
Willow is wiping the counter, and Elodie is loading our plates into the dishwasher. My hands are still in soapy warm water as I rinse the last wineglass, when Violet gasps.
“You all need to see this right now !” Her wide eyes, filled with excitement and a hint of worry, lock on to mine.
“What is it?” Willow plucks Vi’s phone and sets it onto the counter.
The foot I’ve just placed forward retreats, and I feel a sudden urge to retch. The video of Charles and me leaving town hall is on the screen, with my photo inset beside Charles’.
I don’t even notice which of my friends turns up the volume.
“The mystery woman is finally found, and despite what we all thought, she’s not a royal princess but a local girl. Yes, you heard right! The woman who confessed her love to Charles Hawthorne today is none other than his executive assistant.”
The clip of Charles’ back and my “I love you” is playing on the screen.
“Once again, Charles Hawthorne has surprised everyone, and we all can’t help but wonder if there’s a Pretty Woman situation going on here.”
I’m torn between feeling flattered by the comparison to Julia Roberts or offended because of the character’s profession in the movie.
“How the hell did they find you so easily?” Willow wheezes.
Before my frazzled brain can even process her question, Jax appears on the screen with a reporter, standing outside town hall.
The room spins around me, and I feel dizzy for a second.
“Everyone, meet Jax Mendes, the man who confirmed the true identity of the mystery woman,” the reporter announces, as Jax grins and waves to the camera, and I recoil watching his smile. “So, let’s start from the beginning. What’s the name of the woman in the video?”
“She’s Daisy Price, Charles’ executive assistant for the last four years. She has access to places in his life that no one else does.” Jax’s eyebrows lift in a lewd way, making me almost gag.
“I’m sure she does.” The reporter grins back. “And how do you know her?”
“She’s my ex.”
“Charles Hawthorne’s current girlfriend is your ex?”
The shock on the man’s face can’t be more fake and practiced. How did he end up in television?
“When did you find out about them? I hope she didn’t cheat on you.”
“What the hell? Show some decency, you jackass.” Willow’s teeth grit, and every muscle in my body tenses, coiling like the bunched cleaning rag in her hand.
But Jax simply nods.
“Daisy used to spend an awful lot of time ‘working.’” That asshole makes air quotes for emphasis. “Weekends. Late nights. Sometimes she’d be gone for days before we’d see each other.”
“That’s just cruel.” The reporter’s downturned lips and pout remind me of the cool kids from my high school who never hung with us normal people.
Jax nods on the screen. “I tolerated everything because I loved her. But then I caught them together and decided to get out of the picture. I’m definitely no match for Charles Hawthorne. I’m sure Mr. Hawthorne is used to having women throw themselves at him with a flick of his wrist and maybe a few hundred dollars, but I hope he’ll treat Daisy with respect.”
Did he just say, caught them together? A few hundred dollars?
Is he really the man you’ve wasted your tears on, Daisy?
“We share your concern, Mr. Mendes. It was lovely talking to you.” The reporter turns to face the camera. “You all heard about Charles and the mystery woman, and if, like me, you’re wondering whether this is a whirlwind romance or just a fling, only time will tell.”
“Okay, we’ve seen enough.” Elodie sets the phone facedown.
My friends release a collective deep breath, yet I can’t believe what just happened was real and not some bad dream.
“It’s going to be okay, Daisy.” Willow throws her arms over my shoulders. “They’re not only talking about you but also Charles. I’m sure his team will put a leash on Jax and this nonsense soon.”
Oh my God, Charles!
In shock and self-pity, I momentarily forgot that I’m Charles’ assistant. Instead of slowly turning ice cold, my job is to alert his PR team when something like this surfaces.
I grab my phone from the couch, and as soon as I turn it on, there’s an influx of notifications, unread messages, and missed calls. Ignoring them all, I shoot a text to Jimmy, asking him to check the news.
I’m about to switch off my phone again when it rings. A shiver skates down my spine at seeing Aunt Mel’s name and face on the screen.
How the heck did I not think about Dad before making myself unavailable to everyone? What if he had called, or worse, someone else had called because he was once again lost?
“Hello, is Dad okay?” My words tumble upon one another in fear.
“Yes, hon. Jason is asleep. I just came back from your parent’s place and turned on the TV. Is it true? You and Mr. Hawthorne are together?” Her last question is nothing but a gasp.
I glance up at the ceiling, imagining the smirking faces of the gods, who have all ganged up against me today and decided, for whatever reason, I don’t deserve a single moment of peace.
“Um, Aunt Mel, can I please talk about this tomorrow? I have to be somewhere urgently.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. You must have to handle the press. Go.” I’m about to end the call when she adds, “I just want to tell you, Daze, Penny would be so happy today. She always used to say, ‘My Daisy will marry a prince,’ and Charles is nothing but a prince in this town.”
Something in my chest twinges as memories of Mom saying those words swim in my mind. Watching my parents, I dreamed of having my own family so often. A small house. Long nights spent beside a fireplace in the arms of my husband while it snows. Corralling my kids inside as the sun goes down on a Cherrywood summer day.
Yet, here I am, with my reality headed toward a fake marriage.
“I love you, Aunt Mel. But right now, I really have to go. I’ll call you soon, I promise.” I hit the end call button and put my phone facedown on the table.
When I turn around, my friends are watching me with concern and sympathy. They know well that this is just a beginning. Aunt Mel was happy for something that isn’t true, but I’m sure there will be a lot more people who won’t think the same way about this news and me.
I’m almost scared for tomorrow.
“One of us can stay with you tonight, Daze.” Elodie grabs my hand and holds on to it, as if reading my thoughts.
“Or all of us!” Violet adds. “We can turn this nightmarish evening into a throwback of our teenage slumber parties.”
“I’m scared of your plans, Vi.” I narrow my eyes on her. “We did the jerk-boyfriend purging ritual, and see where it landed me? I’m now the town slut.”
“Oh, Daze. To earn that title, you have to do much more than say you love Charles Hawthorne the most.” Willow grins, looping her arm through mine.
How does one gentle touch from my friends seem to calm down my anxiety?
“If you want to be alone, then we’ll leave. You lock up after us.” Elodie tips her head toward the door.
“But you can call us anytime if you want to talk,” Vi swiftly adds.
“Thanks.” I give her a tiny smile before grabbing her hand. “I’m sorry for being cranky.”
“You have all the right to be cranky, but I still believe the ritual worked and landed you a prince. You’re just scared to see it right now, Daze.”
After my friends leave, I slip into bed. My thoughts drift to all the events of today: Dad’s incident, Charles’ interview, his outrageous proposition, and finally, Jax appearing on TV.
How freaking long was this day anyway?
It’s like my wish for a day longer than twenty-four hours was finally granted, and in the process, reminded me that wanting more always has consequences.
My hands clench the pillow lightly, and without any warning, my mind goes to the texture of Charles’ soft suit as he pulled me against his hard chest. Once that floodgate opens, I can’t stop the torrent of thoughts about my boss and the side of his personality he kept hidden until today. It defies my every preconceived notion about Charles. He isn’t as ice cold as I thought, because right now just the mere thought of him makes me burn and sweat.
The next morning, I wake up with a fresh feeling of dread, my hands shaking as I go for my phone on the table. I swipe the screen to read the latest text.
Violet: It’s all gone, Daze. Jax’s interview, the media report about you…nothing is online anymore.
What?
I quickly type Jax Mendes into the search engine, and there’s only one listing—his social media profile.
I go for Daisy Price and Pretty Woman , but get nothing.
Holy crap! Did I just dream the entire thing, including standing before Charles in my underwear?
My gaze slants to the date on top of my phone screen. No, I am definitely not reliving the same day. Once that’s confirmed, with quivering fingers, I type out Charles Hawthorne and the mystery woman before pressing enter.
There it is—the video clip of me and Charles leaving town hall.
I peek through the curtains to see if anything is out of the ordinary, like a press reporter lurking outside my apartment, but I’ve a bigger surprise, and thankfully, one not as nerve-racking. One of Charles’ cars is parked right across the street, and Steve leans against the door, dressed in his usual black suit and sunglasses, looking the street up and down.
What is he doing here so early? Is there a new crisis that I’m unaware of?
I put on my boho poncho and slippers and rush down the stairs.
“Steve? Is everything alright?”
“Morning, Daisy. Yes, of course. I’m here as your chauffeur and will drive you to work.” The big man smiles casually. As always, he’s showing me a much more casual side of his personality in the absence of Charles.
“Um, but I usually leave at eight.” I look at my watch, and it’s only six fifteen. “Is Charles going in early?” I struggle to piece everything together.
Surprise flashes in his wide eyes for a fleeting second. “Mr. Hawthorne asked me to stand guard here last night. I thought you knew.”
I shake my head slowly, unable to find words for several beats. “When did you get here?”
“Ten thirty.”
Right after the video of Jax went out.
Everything inside me stills as I finally try to process all that’s happening. Charles sent him for me, even after I turned down his insane marriage proposal.
“Thank you so much, Steve,” I say, almost in a daze, and upon returning to my apartment, I send a group text to my friends.
Me: Did you see Charles’ driver outside of my place last night?
Violet: Yup.
Me: And you didn’t think of telling me?
Willow: It was such a sweet gesture. Just think, if you accept Charles’ proposal, this will be one of those moments you’ll share with your kids.
Kids?
A few willful butterflies take flight in my tummy. Charles proposed an indefinite ending to this marriage. Did he forget that he’s supposed to have kids and grow the Hawthorne line? The lack of his image as a family man is the reason stakeholders are opposed to him taking over. Or is my crazy boss under the impression that marrying me would mean we would automatically be sleeping together and raising a family?
Damn you, Charles.