Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

Daisy closes her eyes, squares her shoulders, and then returns her attention to the monitor. The arrow of my mouse hovers over the blue icon, the one I’ve never used until now. It was just for security reasons when Nick, the head of IT, installed software on my PC allowing me live access to any screen on the company network.

I push away the guilt, making room for worry, and type Daisy Price-Hawthorne into the search bar of the app.

She’s looking at my calendar.

Not just looking, but trying to find an open slot. But fuck, I’m booked solid until eight PM.

She’s my wife. She should never have to check my calendar just to talk to me.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I need to step out,” I announce, interrupting Ray mid-question.

There’s a moment of silence. No one leaves a quarterly financial review, at least not unless someone’s dying or bleeding.

“Is there something more urgent than this?” Ray’s tone is clipped.

“Believe me, there is.” I hit the red button and exit the meeting.

My rapid heartbeat is in sync with my footsteps as I walk out of my office.

“Charles.” Daisy jerks in her seat when I stop next to her desk. Her gaze flies from my face to the monitor. “The meeting ended early?”

“I stepped out.”

“You stepped out of Elixir’s quarterly financial review? Why?” Her jaw falls open.

Say something.

Fast.

Say anything, dammit.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Charles, I was hammered, not sick.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “If anything, I should be embarrassed. I’m so sorry for the previous night.”

“I’d say you did a good job at shutting down the mayor and the whole being-pregnant rumor mill.”

But her face falls at my lighthearted comment, not just in worry but in sheer panic.

I thought I was becoming an expert at reading her, but right now, her emotions are like a pop quiz for a subject I didn’t study.

She leans in to grab something from her desk—a plain white notepad—when I spot something wrong. She isn’t wearing a hair clip today!

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Can we talk?” she asks instead, circling her desk and nodding toward my office. The rare serious cadence of her tone doesn’t help in calming my nerves.

A few moments later, we both settle on the leather couch, which has been a witness to so many unforgettable conversations.

Today might be another of such days. I can already feel the shift in the air to something heavy and ominous.

“Is it about work?” I don’t even fucking care about the hopeful tone of my voice.

Daisy slowly shakes her head, plunging my heartbeat to the lowest notch. When I think something dreadful is coming my way, her lips curl into a smile. I follow her gaze to the golden desk plaque that my cousins gifted me.

Charles Hawthorne.

CEO of the Hawthorne Empire. Fucking Finally!