Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

Probably for the first time since his diagnosis, Dad is smiling so wide and making a joke about his health.

“I’m ready to soak in all the secrets.” Charles removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves, making my ovaries combust.

God, I’ve seen the man without a shirt on, but there’s something sexy and forbidden about him when he’s dressed in a tailored white shirt with an expensive tie hanging from his neck, the veins of his forearms popping out and making my deep-buried fantasies come to life.

“First lesson.” Dad leads my boss-husband to the kitchen. “You cannot make these pancakes for her every day or else they’ll lose their impact. Only when she’s upset or too angry to even listen to you.”

“Dad!” I squeal. “You’re my father. Instead of telling him that, you should be advising him never to do anything that would upset me.”

“He’s a man, Doodles, not God.” Dad laughs. “Men are designed to be stupid. The key to a successful marriage is for the man to keep his stupidity in check and for the woman to be patient enough to overlook it sometimes.”

My feminist brain screams at me to remind Dad that women, too, have the right to be stupid, and it’s not only their job to be patient. But I don’t want to ruin the perfect, dreamlike morning we’re having.

Throughout the cooking, Charles hangs on to Dad’s every word and instruction with the same focus that he carries in the boardroom. He even flashes a smile for the camera as Dad snaps selfies of the two of them for his social media. But when Charles slides the pancake onto a plate, his teeth grit in frustration. I can’t help but chuckle when I see the reason why—instead of a perfect circle, it’s turned into a soft triangle.

“You can always argue that you were going for a heart shape.”

His scowl is immediately swept clean and replaced by a grin.

A grin I’ve started to understand.

A grin that makes my toes curl and my heart race.

He drizzles some syrup onto it before picking up a slice on the fork. His eyes dance with mischief as he mouths, “Open up.”

Two simple, platonic words, yet they send heat shooting down my core.

My gaze darts toward Dad, fully engrossed on his phone with his back turned toward us. I lean forward and put the fork in my mouth, never taking my eyes off Charles. The moment my lips close around the cold steel, his nostrils flare.

“It’s so sweet that I probably need to change your name again. Charles Sweet Hawthorne,” I whisper.

“What can I do to stop your obsession with my middle name, Daisy Hazy Hawthorne?”

My legs go unsteady. “How did you—”

There’s only one person who knows my official middle name, because he’s the one who put it on the document.

“Dad! You told Charles my middle name! Didn’t you promise me years ago that it would never come out?”

“He’s your husband, Doodles. You’re not supposed to have secrets from each other.” He shrugs, returning to whatever he’s doing on his phone.

“You can’t call me that ever again.” I point a finger in the air, trying to channel my strictest persona before Charles, but his grin only grows.

“I can’t?” One of his eyebrows quirks up in that sexy way. “After all the heartache you’ve given me over the years, I think it’s only fair that I tease you a little.”

“No, please. I hate that name.” Every childhood trauma floods back to me, where my middle name was one more reason I was bullied at school. Something that seemed harmless when Dad suggested it in this very room several years ago, became the bane of my existence as I grew up. I hate it when my throat tightens and tears well up in my eyes.

“Hey,” Charles says, his thumb rubbing against my cheek. “Daisy, it’s just a name.”

“It was my nana’s middle name.” My throat chokes. “She had a blast with it with her friends. My parents wanted the same for me, but it turned into a nightmare at school. I didn’t share every story with my parents, but I shiver when called by that name. I know it’s silly and stupid, but—”

“I promise I’ll never call you that.” Charles leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead.

I nod just as Dad rejoins us. “Is it okay if I post a few of our pictures online, Charles?”

“Go ahead.” My husband grins.

Is he really the same man who made a rule against opening any social media website on the company network?