Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“Are you seriously going to a public event without a bra?” My gaze drops from her face to her chest before returning to meet her eyes, watching her lips curve into a smile.

“Actually, I am. The dress has a built-in bra.”

“I love it.” I run my hand along the silky fabric. “It means I have one less thing to take off.”

“Who knew you could have such a one-track mind, my dear husband. But there are hundreds of people waiting for you at the ballroom, so be a gentleman.” She grins, adjusting my pocket square before stepping out of my arms.

I help Daisy drape a shawl over her shoulders. “By the way, what’s the charity for?”

“It’s for kids who’ve lost their parents.”

As we arrive at the venue, I feel a surge of anxiety watching the press outside, their cameras aimed at every car passing through the gates. I’m still in the middle of my routine of breathing in, breathing out, and repeating when Daisy places her hand on my thigh, intertwining our fingers.

“It’s going to be great.” She ups the wattage of her smile, though I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job of masking my nerves.

Once again catching me off guard, Daisy leans in and plants a kiss on the corner of my mouth. With her thumb, she smudges any lipstick she might have left behind. My grip tightens around hers.

“What happened to your makeup getting ruined?”

Any lingering anxiety dissipates as she shoots me a sassy look and winks. “Fuck the makeup. You look absolutely delicious, my dear husband.”

I’m still grinning when Steve opens my door, and before my lips can flatten at the sight of the multitude of cameras pointed at me, Daisy is by my side. She loops her arm through mine, clinging to me as if she needs support, when the reality is quite the opposite.

The burning sensation in my chest intensifies. I know I’ll never find anyone else quite like her. Someone who knows my insecurities. And even if she extracts great joy in making fun of me in private, in public, she’s determined to ensure I appear the strongest, bravest, and simply the best, period.

“That went well. What do you say?” she asks as we make our way to the carpeted entryway of the building.

“Everything goes well when I have a charm like you sticking to me like superglue.”

She laughs up to the ceiling as the doors open and a venue staff member runs forward. “This way, Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne.”

As Daisy and I step inside the main reception hall, which is at its maximum capacity, all heads turn toward us, and my familiar anxiety starts to make its appearance.

She’s about to take another step forward when I lightly tug her back. “Don’t you dare leave my side.” The word ever remains lost in my throat.

Her brows knit together in surprise before she slowly nods and whispers, “I’ll stick to you like a parasite, husband.”

I can’t stop my lips curling into a grin. It’s definitely a first that I’m smiling instead of furiously searching for the exit in the middle of a social event.

The night progresses better than I expected. Perhaps it’s because of the woman who hasn’t left my side for a single second.

She maintains a constant smile, even as she fields detailed questions about our work and love life—not my words but those of a woman whose name I’ve forgotten. Daisy makes excuses on my behalf when she sees my patience wearing thin, especially as one man after another tries to broker a deal.

What did they expect? That I’d shake hands with them after hearing their pitch for five seconds and say, “Let’s become best business buddies”?

Conference rooms are meant for that, not stuffy parties.

But this old man before us is proving to be difficult, as he fails to pick up on Daisy’s polite hints. I’m a breath away from throttling him for giving my wife such a hard time.

“Mr. Hart, you’ll hear from us soon,” Daisy repeats in her same patient voice. “I have your business card. In fact, I have three.” She waves those blue-and-white cards in the air. “But if you’ll please excuse us, I have to show Charles something.”

The man, who appears to be in his late sixties, places his half-full champagne glass on the side table. “Oh, maybe I can tag along.”

No, you cannot.

I’m about to take a step forward and tell him that we’ve had enough, when Daisy holds my hand, once again intertwining our fingers.

“I’m sorry, but I have to say no. It’s actually something romantic, and I’d like to show it to Charles alone.” Daisy whispers the last sentence as if letting him in on some secret.