Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

– Charles A. Hawthorne

CEO, Hawthorne Holdings &

Board of Directors, Elixir Inc.

Daisy reads the email out loud.

“You really declared a three-day company holiday?” She looks at me with a starry, doe-eyed expression. “Who the heck are you and where’s my boss?”

I’m not going to tell her that if she keeps looking at me like this, that asshole might never appear.

“Do you even know what people do on a holiday?” Daisy asks slowly, still not over the shock.

“Don’t you worry about that. I have a full day planned for both of us.”

“I can’t wait to listen to your great plan.” She finally seems to have found her usual self and rolls her eyes. “I’m sure it involves going to museums and galleries and some highly posh restaurants.”

“Don’t hate it before you try it, my dear wife.” I grin. “For your information, our first stop is your dad’s house.”

I get out of bed, and satisfaction fills my heart when she keeps staring at me. I’m only wearing track pants, which I pulled on sometime later in the night. I make a meal out of it as I saunter over to the nightstand and text Mrs. Kowalski, requesting two cups of coffee.

“Are we really going to my dad’s?”

I nod. “We are going to have breakfast with him. After the news yesterday, he wants to personally make sure you’re okay.”

“And how would you know all that?”

“Because your dad told me so.”

“You’re saying that Charles Hawthorne, the man who avoids talking to people, sometimes even when there are billions of dollars at stake, talked to my dad for leisure?” Her eyebrows shoot up, nearly disappearing into her hairline.

“What can I say? He’s more interesting and fun than most people in meeting rooms.”

The words have just left my mouth when there’s a knock on the door. Daisy pulls the sheets up to her neck, but I can’t pull my gaze away from her. Sitting in the middle of my bed, wrapped in my pristine white bedcovers, she looks exquisite. Her hair is mussed from sleep. Her face is devoid of any makeup except the pink blush that makes a frequent appearance on her face these days. I could watch her like this all day, every day of my life and never get bored.

She looks thoroughly fucked, thoroughly loved, and thoroughly mine.

There’s a second knock on the door and Daisy jerks. I’m relieved. It’s not just me who can’t focus on my surroundings these days.

I’m about to open the door when she squeals. “Stop!”

I look over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Is it Mrs. K at the door?”

I nod slowly and Daisy raises her hands up in the air in return.

“Where the heck is your shirt, Hawthorne?”

The perpetual grin on my face morphs into full-blown laughter, but I still put on a shirt.

If my wife wants me all for herself, I’m not going to complain. Ever.

When I open the door, Mrs. Kowalski is waiting patiently, holding a wooden tray with two coffee mugs that I’ve never seen in my house before.

One of them says Mr., and there’s a black mustache and a beard under the two letters written in flowing script. The second matching one says Mrs., and there’s a pink hair clip on the side.

They are too cheesy and cute.