Page 33
Charles effortlessly fixes his tie in a single tug. “We’re leaving this place and forgetting about interviews for the next four years.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, boss”—my grin couldn’t be wider, especially when his irritated frown is back—“but you are one of the media puppets now. There’s no way they’ll let you off that easy.”
“I’m nobody’s puppet. I’m serious, Daisy. Let Jimmy know we are not doing this nonsense again. Once was more than enough.”
8
READY TO GET HITCHED?
CHARLES
“Dave, can you please pull over at the next light?”
Upon Daisy’s request, my bodyguard meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, waiting for my confirmation. But I turn to Daisy beside me in the limo.
“It’s the middle of the workday, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I know it’s tough, but I was hoping you wouldn’t be playing a tyrant boss and could drop me home so I can change. I don’t feel comfortable in someone else’s clothes. Plus, I worry the longer I wear this, the higher the chance of a stain or tear.”
“No need,” I tell Dave, who continues driving.
“Charles! I’m your employee, not your slave. There’s something called labor laws—”
“Will you just relax for a bit? I had something delivered to the office for you.”
This dress is all wrong on her. Not because of her friend’s stupid remark about the neckline, but because my assistant looks best in the usual soft colors she prefers to wear. Pink, purple, blue—that’s Daisy. White is just too bland for her.
She gasps. “You did what?”
But instead of looking her way, I turn my head, focusing on the passing scenery outside. I catch a grin on my reflection in the window and kill it immediately.
“I’ve already wasted half my day with this ridiculous interview. I have no desire to waste the rest.”
She falls silent for a moment and then asks slowly, “How did you even know my size?”
“I didn’t.” But I’m sure my guess is fairly accurate.
Growing up with a sister who was crazy for fashion design is definitely paying off for once.
“This is so…”
“Thoughtful?” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”
“I was going to say weird, but sure, whatever feeds your already inflated ego.”
This time, I have to bite down on my lip to stifle a smile. After the stressful morning and the soul-sucking interview, my heart rate is finally finding its normal pace.
After another second of pause, Daisy says, “I heard part of your interview. Jimmy turned on his phone for me. I think it went very well.”
She trails off as if there’s something more she wants to say but is holding back, and I absolutely hate that she’s keeping her thoughts away from me. Despite my aversion to unnecessary talks, Daisy’s chatter, sometimes teasing me and other times subtly trying to fix my life, has become an indispensable part of my life.
“What happened this morning?”
“I already told you about the cake—”
“I am not asking about your grand accident, Daisy. Why the hell weren’t you at the town hall early like we planned?”
Even though I know there must be a very good reason for her absence, I’m unable to hide my irritation. I remember the moment when I found myself wedged between Jimmy and the mayor, facing ten unfamiliar faces all eager to dig into my personal life. My chest tightened to the point of pain, the air around me seeming to thin.