19. PossessionNot?
19
POSSESSION OR NOT?
CHARLES
“Can I still not convince you to stay at home?” I ask as Daisy joins me for breakfast.
She’s wearing a sky-blue skirt and a white blouse that has pink peonies all over it. There’s nothing unprofessional about her clothes, and I’ve seen them on her more times than I can count, but my body has never been so aware of her presence. My cock—let’s not talk about that asshole, who seems to have a mind of his own around her these days. But how can I blame it all on him, when she’s making no attempt to hide how she feels about me physically?
But did you expect anything else from her?
If I hide my feelings in a tight vault with numerous locks, she proudly displays every emotion on her face.
Just this morning when I stepped out of the shower, she was waiting by the door. She blatantly perused my almost naked body, focusing extra hard on the towel wrapped around my waist, which was doing a shitty job at hiding my erection.
As I walked past her, she groaned. “Somebody likes seeing me.”
“Not at all.” Daisy’s words pull me back to the present. “I need to talk to Mr. Buffay about the updates on Vincent’s site, and you, my dear boss, have to find out what the price is for you running away from the board meeting.”
“I didn’t run away. I ran to you, my dear wife.”
“Cute, but too cheesy for you. Even Mrs. K thinks so. Isn’t that right?” Daisy raises an eyebrow as my housekeeper places two cups of coffee onto the table.
Mrs. Kowalski pales, her usual small smile dropping the same instant. “I…I…don’t—”
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kowalski. You’ll get used to Daisy’s natural talent of taking everyone by surprise.”
“Don’t complain, husband. Someone needs to keep you in check.”
“And who’s better for the job than you?”
Mrs. Kowalski sets down two plates of breakfast before disappearing. The moment we’re alone, the air morphs into something thick and heavy. I pick up my coffee mug, and Daisy takes a bite of her croissant, but my mind is busy remembering how we were less than an hour ago. I can still smell the fruity scent of her perfume.
Have you thought things through?
Those words are on the tip of my tongue, because next time when she’s in my arms begging with her eyes, I don’t think I’ll have the willpower to stop and walk away.
Her lips quiver as if she’s about to answer my silent question, when my phone rings.
Daisy jerks in her seat while I splash the hot coffee over my hand.
“Fuck.” I use the paper towel to wipe my hand before turning toward her. “You okay?”
Only when she nods do I grab my phone from the table.
Ashcroft Miller—my grandfather, Kristy’s dad, and a man who gave new meaning to my middle name because he’s the strongest person I’ve known.
“Good morning, Opa.”
“How’s married life, Charlie?”
“Full of surprises,” I reply, glancing at my new wife.
“Happy ones, I hope.” I can feel his smile through the line.
“So far, yeah.”
“That’s good, kid. You tied the knot so fast we didn’t get to meet Daisy properly. Your Oma is inviting everyone home for dinner tonight. She wanted to know if you’re available, but if you aren’t, free up your calendar. No matter how busy a businessman gets, family should always come first.”
“We’ll be there.” I could never imagine declining an invitation from him. I end the call and turn to Daisy.
“It was my grandfather. Mom’s—I mean, Kristy’s dad. They have invited us for dinner in St. Peppers. We’ll have to leave early in the afternoon to be there on time.”
That also means I have half the time to fix the mess of yesterday. Usually, I wouldn’t hesitate to send a text to Daisy and ask her to reprioritize my schedule. But today, she’s seated before me, her knees and palms covered in bandages while she’s typing furiously on the phone, possibly checking up on her dad.
I’m still watching her from the corner of my eye when my phone vibrates in my hand. I look down to find my ten o’clock meeting has been shifted to tomorrow. Notifications continue to pop up until my entire calendar has been rearranged.
“I freed up your evening and also a part of the morning so you can talk to your grandmother and any other board members to explain why you left in a rush.”
When I don’t reply, she looks up at me and grins. But this isn’t one of those that makes me want to put her in my pocket and never let go—like the one she gave me this morning, when her entire face beams. No, this is her professional smile.
“I haven’t forgotten what you told me when we signed the contract, boss. I know you’re not trading a wife for a lousy assistant.”
Her mentioning the contract leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
But why? It’s there for our benefit—hers and mine.
Even if we slept together, the terms of the contract will protect the future of our arrangement. No surprises. Clean separation. The idea, which was reassuring a few weeks ago, now makes me want to throw up.
What did Mrs. Kowalski put in the breakfast today?
“I thought you’d be pleased, but you’re making that face where you want to murder someone.” Daisy pushes a curl behind her ear, and I realize I’m scowling right at her.
“It’s not that.” I clear my throat, trying to come up with a sensible response. “I don’t like the bandages. I was serious about you staying home.”
Surprise colors her face. “I swear I’m fine, Charles. I texted the doctor before changing the bandage this morning. He agreed there’s no harm in going to work.”
“And what about the blood work?” I ask carefully. Not that I’m worried about her being pregnant; I’m worried about her . “Is there any chance of you collapsing on the street someday due to a vitamin deficiency? Everything okay there?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” She drops her gaze.
“And what’s ordinary for my wife? Show me.” I place my hand forward for her phone, where I’m sure she’s received a digital copy of her blood work.
“Charles, that’s personal! I’m not sharing my health report with you.”
“After what I glimpsed this morning, I think your reports are safe with me.”
Daisy flushes at the reminder. “I’ll just tell you, okay. I’m vitamin D deficient, but every person has that. I’m going to pick up some supplements. Satisfied?”
Not at all.
“Only for now.”
“If you’re done being difficult, I want to remind you that we have half a day to handle everything at work.” Daisy throws her hair over her shoulder and rises up.
Ten minutes later, we’re seated in the limo like all the numerous times before. No words are exchanged, as she’s busy switching between a tablet and a phone, typing furiously, while I go through a report on my laptop. We finally pause when the car stops in front of my private elevator at Hawthorne Tower.
Steve opens the door by my side, but before we can march toward the waiting elevator cab, Daisy stops.
“Steve, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have accompanied Mr. Buffay instead of asking you to drive me.”
“Please don’t say that, Mrs. Hawthorne.” The man shakes his head as his gaze lands on the bandages around Daisy’s hands. “I’m grateful that you’re okay and nothing major happened.”
Daisy takes a step forward, closer to him and away from me, making my pulse jump.
“I’m still me, Steve. I’m not going to tolerate this Mrs. Hawthorne nonsense. You’re calling me Daisy like you always did. You too, Dave.” She looks at the other man. “How else will we continue to have our personal talks?”
Personal talks? What the hell is she talking to them about?
My bodyguards are right to look nervous, but my wife hasn’t received the same memo.
“I cannot share with you all the evil but true things about Charles if you call me Mrs. Hawthorne, can I now?”
I’m about to ask Dave and Steve a question of my own, something along the lines of if they’ve forgotten who’s paying them their salary, when Daisy tugs on the sleeve of my suit jacket.
“Aren’t you going to say anything to Steve?”
I know she wants me to apologize, and it’s cute that she thinks she can order me around.
“I definitely am.” I turn to my bodyguards. “I don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”
They both nod, and I don’t wait anymore, marching toward the elevator. Daisy huffs before trailing behind.
“You know that was not what I meant.”
“Daisy, Steve made a mistake, and I’m not going to hesitate in reminding him of that.”
It must be my serious, humorless tone, because she doesn’t interrupt or add any playful comment.
We step out, and before she can say anything more, my phone rings.
Once I’ve seen the caller’s name, I know it’s not safe to take this call here. I wouldn’t want the first emotion Daisy feels this morning to be guilt. So, I leave her at her desk and walk inside my office.
“Good morning, Grandma.”
“Charles, what happened yesterday? You left the meeting without a word, and then you didn’t pick up your phone. Is everything alright with you and Daisy?”
“Yes. She’s fine now.” I stand before the mirrored wall in my office. The special glass provides me a perfect view of Daisy’s desk, while she can’t catch me gawking at her.
“That’s good to hear. But since you weren’t there, the board rescheduled the meeting for after the holiday season. My assistant will send an email to Daisy, and I hope nothing comes up this time that is more urgent than the agreement on your CEO position.”
I don’t miss the hint of disapproval in her voice, but I have no regrets.
“I’m sure it was a one-time thing, Grandma,” I reply, watching Daisy water the plants on her desk while slowly talking to them. My lips twitch as she prances around, from one shrub to another, tending to her kingdom like a queen.
She finally places the elephant-shaped watering jar on the floor under her desk and grabs the pink Post-its.
With hurried steps, I step away from the wall, and I’m leaning against my desk when she knocks.
I wave for her to come in as my call ends. She walks up to the glass wall behind my desk and removes the Post-its from yesterday. My gaze follows her moves as, like every other day, she throws them into the empty paper trash can.
“So, which organ do I have to donate to compensate for pulling you out of a board meeting?” she asks without turning around, putting fresh task notes onto the wall.
“All your organs are safe for now, but if you’re planning to get kidnapped in the first week of February, I’d suggest postponing it for the following month.”
“Two jokes in twenty-four hours. There must be a long summer in hell for so much ice to crack.” Daisy looks over her shoulder and grins.
“Don’t get used to it. Anyway, did we hear anything about Vincent’s site?”
Daisy’s face is serious when she nods.
“Mr. Buffay has sent us a new assessment report confirming the workers’ observations. It appears that someone within Buffay Construction is exploiting the company by delivering substandard materials.”
My muscles tense as I once again imagine yesterday. “Please tell me we’ve canceled all our future contracts with them.”
Daisy stays silent, nervously biting her lips. I recognize the familiar expression—she’s searching for the best way to admit that she hasn’t done the job, and her reasoning likely involves something emotional.
But for once, I’m not feeling impatient or on the verge of exploding. In fact, I find myself oddly content, relishing in the sight of her furrowed brows, the indent on her lips left by her teeth, and even the faint stain of her pink lipstick as it trails behind.
As she’s busy sorting through her thoughts, memories of her in my bed flood my mind. I’m almost tempted to ask her if she’s given that any thought. I didn’t want us to have any regrets later, yet leaving her in that bed was without a doubt one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
Nothing and no one has ever looked as enticing. This morning, Daisy was the ultimate temptation, and I should be awarded some grand prize for walking away. But now I can’t wait to hear her decision, because in truth, I want her—my wife.
“Charles!” She waves her hand in front of me like an airport staff member directing traffic. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Fuck! “Of course I did,” I lie through my teeth. “You want to give Buffay another chance.”
“So you agree?”
“Not at all. I didn’t marry you to become a widower before I could show you what it really means to be my wife.”
Daisy sucks in a breath, and seeing the pink flush on her cheeks, I know for sure she’s thinking about this morning like I am. I push away from where I’m leaning against the desk and approach her. Suddenly, our few feet of distance is too much.
“Mr. Buffay is a good man, Charles.”
“Should I remind you that you’re my wife?” I continue until I’m right in front of her. My wingtips align with the points of her heels, and even with those, she barely reaches my chest.
“I’m serious.” Her voice wavers.
“And you think I’m not? I take my possessions very seriously, and you, my dear wife, are priceless.”
“I’m not your possession.” She wrinkles her nose in that adorable way that makes me crazy. “Besides, jealousy doesn’t suit you, my dear husband.”
Every time she calls me that, Daisy claws away some ice around my chest with her tiny hands and leaves a bit of warmth inside me.
“I don’t know the meaning of that word.”
“Of course you don’t.” As always, she calls me on my bullshit. “But Buffay is a good person—a loyal business partner to Hawthorne Holdings and a good family man to his wife and kids. Give him one more chance. Please, Charles.”
“There are no second chances in business.” All my life, I’ve followed this rule and it has served me right. Plus, Buffay not only caused me loss in business but also put my wife’s safety at risk.
“This morning, you mentioned you’ve made exceptions for me,” Daisy whispers, pulling me away from risky thoughts. “Can I not have one more?”
How the hell does one say no to that?
I fold my hands together, bringing them close to my face, my index fingers resting over my bottom lip. “Only if you promise to think about what we discussed this morning.”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Believe me, I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a minute.”