Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

I reach home and start calling the hospitals once again. I increase my search area after every half an hour on the app and call the hospitals who provide in-house nursing staff. But so far, the lowest budget I got is still so far beyond my reach. With every phone call, my confidence dwindles and Charles’ words, the money he promised, flash before me like golden stars.

“Shut the fuck up!” I close my eyes.

I’m not going to look at the imaginary golden money stars.

I cannot marry Charles for his money. It’s the twenty-first century. Women don’t need men for financial support. Yes, it would have been easier if there was someone in my life to share this anxiety with, but that someone is certainly not Charles Hawthorne.

Those gorgeous blue eyes, which I now know have silver flecks in them, don’t belong to me, and neither do those soft, full lips. I bring my hand close to my face, and for some reason it smells of Charles’ cologne. As much as I hate myself, I haven’t been able to wash my hand since I stormed out of his office after telling my boss I don’t love him.

I wrote Charles an email that I was leaving for home, and even though he didn’t reply back, Dave was waiting for me as I stepped out of the elevator.

I take another whiff of my hand when my doorbell rings, making me jump.

Crap! Is that him?

No, Daisy, you haven’t suddenly mastered the art of conjuring people with your thoughts. If you had, Charles would have appeared much earlier, considering you can’t stop thinking about him.

I slowly inch toward the main door, and a pang of unexpected disappointment washes over me at the sound of Willow’s voice.

“Daze, it’s us. Open up. It’s freezing out here.”

I swing open the door to my apartment, and my three friends file inside, along with the rich aroma of Mexican food. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten the whole day. Closing the door behind me, I return to the couch in my snug one-room apartment.

My friends have already set everything up. There are four glasses beside an uncorked bottle of wine, and paper napkins neatly arranged next to the sky-blue china plates I bought from a garage sale.

“Did we have plans that I forgot?” I flop down beside Willow on the floor, who finally looks up from her phone.

“No. This is an emergency meeting.”

“And what’s the—”

My words stop inside my mouth as she turns the screen of her phone toward me.

“I love you the most.” My breathy voice fills the room as I fixate on Charles’ figure, draped in a sleek black suit.

Until now, I haven’t seen the video clip properly. I stumbled upon it by chance when I went down to the café at the ground floor of Hawthorne Tower. A group of employees had their heads grouped above the iPad sitting before them on the table. I fled before anyone could question me about being Charles’ mystery woman.

“That’s your voice,” Willow says before swiping the screen and pointing at the second clip of me and Charles leaving the town hall and getting inside his limo. “And this is definitely you!”

“We have questions. So many.” Violet’s eyes are wild.

“But first, why was your phone switched off? We were worried,” Elodie says as she holds the wine bottle. Unlike Willow and Violet, who are so loud they could be heard on the other side of town, she’s thankfully much more relaxed.

“Charles asked me to.”

He did ask me to be offline for the first hour, and I chose to stay that way in case he decided to contact me again and throw that ridiculous offer at me once more.

“Your boss told you not to talk to us? Your best friends?” Violet gasps, rising on her knees.

Elodie tugs Violet down. “Calm down, Vi. I doubt Charles Hawthorne had us specifically in mind.”

“He didn’t want me to see the video.” I fidget in my seat, wondering if I should share what all happened today with my friends. Charles never said this was private, and he consulted his cousins.

“Because…” Violet drawls.

“Because my boss was planning to propose to me!” I throw my hands up in the air.

Looks like my brain has already made its decision.