Chapter 2
DALTON
CHAPTER TWO
Pacing up and down in my bedroom suite, I rip off my suit jacket and throw it on my bed, then loosen the tie around my neck, yanking it free. Dragging in a deep breath, I try and fail to calm my racing pulse, but no matter how many times I force air into my lungs, I still feel like I’m fucking drowning.
Yesterday, Daisy and I signed our marriage contract, and like it or not, we’re bound to each other. Afterwards, she’d angered me with her taunts about having an affair during our marriage and I did something I shouldn’t have and kissed her, breaking my promise to Drix despite the lie I told him today. He’s been staying in the flat above his gym ever since Lia found out the truth about his role for the families, giving her space. He’s always been a good man, thoughtful, and in that moment faced with his anger, I said I’d do my best by Daisy, that I would find it in myself to at least try and make her happy.
But that’s all just fucking words, bravado.
Truth be known, I don’t even like myself very much, so how the fuck can I expect Daisy to like me, let alone tolerate me? Not to mention the fact she’s infuriating. Always has been. How the hell am I supposed to live with her snide digs when I can’t throw her over my lap and pinken her arse like I’ve done to multiple women I’ve fucked over the years? Don’t get me wrong, they’ve always enjoyed such attention, knowing that with pain comes pleasure, but that is off the table for me and Daisy.
I can’t even sleep with anyone else for the entirety of our relationship to get some fucking relief. The only silver lining is that neither can Daisy, because I’ll be fucked if she thinks she can get her rocks off with some random arsehole whilst married to me. I let Daisy believe that particular stipulation in the contract was my father’s idea, but in truth, it was mine. She may never truly belong to me, but I’ll be damned if she’ll belong to anyone else. If I have to suffer, then so can she. It’s only fair.
Goddamn her. How could I let this happen? How could I agree to this fucking sham?
Because you’re a selfish bastard, that’s why, a voice inside my head taunts me.
“Motherfucker,” I yell, striding towards my ensuite, needing a moment to wash away the guilt I feel.
It’s not a feeling I’m used to. I’m Dalton Gunn, for fuck’s sake. I take what I want, when I want it. I’m rich, and enjoy every damn minute of the lifestyle being wealthy provides me. I fuck for pleasure, and I sure as hell don’t do feelings, least of all guilt, and yet here I am feeling exactly that. Guilt at signing the contract. Guilt at lying to my best friend. Guilt at kissing Daisy.
If her taunts had riled me up in that moment, then the hurt in her eyes as she pushed me away soon put it out. I’d overstepped. I was wrong. I deserved a knee to the bollocks.
Resting my hands against the sink, I look at my reflection. Dark circles ring my eyes, and my usually put together appearance is more than a little ruffled. Ordinarily, when I need to relieve the stress, I would grab my phone and call one of the many women ready and willing to spend the night. Whoever was lucky enough to be chosen would enjoy the best sex of their life, and a night filled with multiple orgasms, because whilst I might be selfish in all other aspects of my life, I’m not in the bedroom.
I get off on other people’s pleasure, love it when the women I’m fucking trust me to take care of their needs. It excites me when I figure out what turns them on. It’s like finding the key to Pandora’s box. Some women like dirty talk, some prefer praise. Others like to be bound, degraded, whipped, tied up. More often than not, most women just want to be adored, to feel for once like they’re the centre of someone’s universe, not just a quick fuck. And whilst I never promise to love any of the women I sleep with, I do at least give them my full attention for the hours I’m with them.
Well, almost always. There was that one unfortunate night when I made the mistake of calling Drix whilst fucking the woman I was with. I made it up to her though.
Truth is, most men pay lip service to a woman’s pleasure, only ever really seeking their own release. But me? I pay attention. I’m willing to uncover their deepest desires, and for the time they’re with me, I give them everything they want. So what if I get something out of it too?
Both Drix and Daisy think I have an addiction to sex. Maybe I do. But, honestly, I could think of worse things. Besides, making women come is about the only fucking thing I’m good at anyway.
“Not anymore,” I say to my reflection, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I strip, kicking my clothes to the corner of the bathroom for one of the staff to clear up later.
Stepping into the shower, I switch on the tap, and as hot water rains down on me, I grab a handful of body wash then lean my forearm on the tiled wall, gripping my cock with my free hand.
“Looks like it’s just you and me,” I mutter to my dick, allowing my mind to wander, revelling in the prickles of pleasure gathering at the base of my spine as I corkscrew my palm up and down my length.
With every stroke of my cock, the tension within me eases a little, and I allow myself this moment of pleasure, needing it, craving it. If sex with women is an addiction, then self-pleasure is a comfort. I don't want to think too deeply about why that is, knowing that if I did I'd uncover some fucked-up emotions that I've been running from for a long, long time.
Instead, I pump my cock faster, a steady rhythm matching the beat of my heart. The water turns from hot to scalding, but I barely notice. All I feel is the rush of pleasure surging through me. Soon the guilt melts away, replaced by the all-consuming intensity of my need as I start to imagine the faces of all the women I've fucked, hearing their soft moans, and the look of satisfaction on their faces as they come. So many women, that soon they all merge into one.
Then right before I climax, one face appears in my mind, hers, Daisy's, and I come with a guttural roar, shocked by the intensity, fucking shaken by it.
"God-fucking-damn-it!" I shout, reaching for the tap and turning it off.
Leaning against the cooling tiles, I try to catch my breath as my thoughts twist and tumble. I'm angry at myself, at Daisy for daring to enter my mind, taunting me with her pale blue eyes, freckled skin and fiery spirit. She’s not even my type, so fuck knows why she even entered my head, let alone made me come so damn hard.
Then it occurs to me, Daisy had said she wasn't a game to be won, that she'd never be intimate with me, but that's like waving a red rag to a bull. No one has ever spurned my advances. No one. Yet, she has the audacity to do exactly that.
Straightening up, I step out of the shower and grab a towel, drying myself. Maybe this marriage needn't be as hellish as I first thought, and despite all my promises, I decide at that moment that she will be mine, in every way possible, whether she wants to or not.
The sharp trill of my phone wakes me from my sleep, and I push upright, blinking as light filters through the gap in the curtains. Grabbing my phone, I stare at the screen, noticing two things at once. First, it’s nine thirty and I’m already late for work, and secondly it’s Drix who’s calling.
“Listen,” I begin, prepared to defend myself. I know with how close Drix and Daisy are, she would’ve told him what happened between us already.
“I’m at the hospital,” he says quickly.
“At the hospital? What the fuck happened?” I ask. Our relationship may be strained right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t drop everything to be by my best friend’s side. Fuck work. It’s not as if the hotel can’t run itself anyway.
“Lia’s husband turned up at my house early this morning,” he bites out, the heaviness in his voice, the fear, making my own pulse beat harder. “He hurt Lia, Dalton.”
“He did what?! Please tell me you killed the fucker.”
Drix lets out a shuddering breath. “I wanted to. I didn’t. He’s in police custody right now.”
“You called the police?” I ask, my own voice strained. This isn’t what we do. If there’s a problem we deal with it ourselves.
“I told Daisy to do so the second she ended the call with me. Then I broke every speed limit possible to get to them. I was just in time, if I’d been a minute later…”
“Where’s Daisy now?” I ask, my fucking heart pounding as I get to my feet and stride to my wardrobe, yanking out a pair of jeans.
“She’s with Lia and Toby. Lia is being checked over by the doctor, and they’ve given Daisy something to help calm her nerves. They’re both pretty shaken up.”
“Did he hurt Daisy too?” I ask, my voice eerily calm as a sudden feeling of protectiveness washes over me.
It’s a feeling I’m used to when it comes to Daisy. No matter how much she irritates me, fucking pushes my buttons like no one else can, she’s still my best friend’s little sister, and I’ve always tried to look out for her in my own way.
“No. She was upstairs with Toby, keeping him safe.”
“Good,” I reply, relief flooding through me as I breathe out. “I’m coming to the hospital. Give me fifteen minutes.”
“No, don’t. I called you out of respect, because I wanted you to hear the news from me first.”
“Listen–”I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Daisy doesn’t want you here. She’s shaken up, concerned for Lia and Toby, for me. It isn’t the right time.”
“Fuck the right time. I’m coming.”
“You come here now and we’ll have an even bigger problem, Dalton,” Drix warns. “You’ll only upset her more. I said no. I mean it. Give her some space.”
“She’s my fiance, Drix. I’m coming,” I bite back.
“Don’t fucking remind me,” he grinds out.
I ignore his remark, anger rising up my chest. “Whether you like it or not, in a matter of weeks she’ll be my wife. I’m responsible for her as much as you are.”
“And I’m her brother. She doesn’t want you here.”
“She said that?” I ask.
“What are you going to do, haul her into your arms and tell her you love her, that she’s safe with you?” he retorts, ignoring my question.
I pause, hating the accusation in his voice, the loathing. “She needs to know I care.”
“Do you though?”
“Fuck, Drix, what do you want from me? I’m trying my best here.”
“What I want is for you to tear up that damn contract, Dalton. What I want is for my sister to find a man who wants to marry her because he fucking loves her,” he hisses out.
“We’ve been over this. The contract is signed, it’s done. There’s no going back, and what’s more you’re free from your debt, Drix. As much as I hate the fact that the bastard hurt Lia, you’re free of him now too. You can be happy.”
“This conversation is over. Don’t come,” Drix replies, ending the call.
“Fuck!” I shout, throwing my phone across the room. It lands on the bed, bouncing a couple of times before falling still.
Swiping my fingers through my hair, I consider my options. I could go to the hospital against my best friend’s wishes, but then what? Drix is right, what possible comfort would I be to Daisy, to him? Neither of them want me there, and with good reason.
Jesus fuck, last night I went to bed determined to make Daisy mine even when she’s made it very clear that she hates my guts. That’s the kind of man I am. One who’s willing to hurt a woman who’s sweet and thoughtful, loyal and trusting, just to appease his own fucking ego.
Even now, even knowing all of that, I still want to make her mine. This sick, twisted part of me needs to claim her despite everything, just to prove that I can. It’s fucked-up. I’m fucked-up.
I can’t change, not to save my friendship, not to stop myself from hurting Daisy, not even to prevent hurting myself, because if there’s anything I know about myself, it’s this: I’m my father’s son. What I want, I get, and damn the consequences.
With that thought in mind, I stride across the room and pick up my phone, flicking through my contacts until I find the number I need. Pressing call, I wait impatiently for someone to pick up.
“Smithson’s Jewellery, how may I assist you?” a crisp, male voice greets me.
“It’s Dalton Gunn, clear the store for me. I’m coming right now to pick out a very expensive, very sizable engagement ring. No expenses spared.”