Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” I raise an eyebrow at her before settling behind my desk.

“Aww, I’m always on your side.” She slips into the empty chair next to Jimmy.

“What now?” I turn to my PR manager, eager to get through whatever media nonsense he’s brought today.

“Did you read the articles I sent you?” he inquires.

“You already know the answer to that. I’m not wasting time on gossip columns. I have a PR team and you for that job.”

“Did you read them?” Unfazed by my words, Jimmy repeats his question to Daisy.

My assistant nods enthusiastically as if she’s in a classroom and will be graded for her knowledge about some dirty gossip.

Satisfaction lights up Jimmy’s eyes, as if Daisy’s affirmation validates the value of those articles.

“I want to help you, Charles. I swear on my sweet dog that I want the announcement of your CEO position to be met with unanimous agreement, not just in town but across the state. I want everyone to see that there couldn’t be a better person than you for this position.”

His words tighten like a noose around my neck.

Isn’t this exactly what I want?

I thought I had it all under control. How is the company’s success and the growth under my leadership not enough? When did my personal life—or lack thereof—become the focal point, overshadowing everything else I’ve achieved?

“I know what you’re thinking. But they call Cherrywood the Hawthorne town for a reason. You can never just be a businessman here, Charles.”

“What does that mean? My life isn’t mine?” I run a hand through my hair. I’ve heard these words before, but lately, they’ve been haunting me every waking moment.

“It is, but a part of your life will always be under scrutiny. I can help you balance it, make sure you’re the one in control. If they want to talk about you, then we’ll give them a slice of your life on your terms instead of being at their mercy. But ultimately, I can only advise you. If you don’t act on my suggestions, it’s better you let me go. I’d rather work for someone who values my input and doesn’t see me as a nuisance.”

The room falls into a weighty silence. It’s the first time Jimmy has hinted at leaving.

“Are you threatening to quit?” I ask slowly, once the initial shock subsides. I watch Daisy in my periphery as she sits straight on her chair, her gaze fixed on Jimmy.

“Not yet. I’m asking you to listen to my advice for once. Instead of letting the media drag you down, leverage it to your advantage. Give them the real Charles Hawthorne, not the one they’ve conjured up in their minds.”

“I won’t—” I begin. Jimmy’s about to interject when I halt him with a raised hand. “I can’t handle social events.”

The mere idea of being in a crowded room sends a throbbing ache through my forehead. My collar feels too tight, and it becomes hard to breathe.

My eyes drift to Daisy, and there’s a mix of seriousness and an emotion I loathe—pity—reflected on her face. I look away.

“What if it’s a private event?” Daisy says softly, and I once again meet my assistant’s gaze, finding a small encouraging smile on her lips.

In the four years we’ve worked together, I’ve learned to decipher the meaning behind the subtle movements of her mouth. The smile she’s wearing now, directed at me, reassures me that everything will be fine.

“No crowd. Just a handful of reporters at your convenience.” Daisy pauses, giving me some more time for her idea to sink in.

“Then make it an exclusive interview,” I say, keeping my eyes locked on hers. If this is the only way, then I’ll make sure to put a final stop on this social recluse nonsense. “Bring in the top reporters of the state—no, make it the top five in the country. Let’s settle this once and for all. Pour a significant amount of advertising money into it. Let’s market it as one of the biggest entertainment news stories of the year.”

Daisy’s smile widens with each word I speak, and I only tear my gaze away from her when Jimmy squeals.

“That’s fantastic! An hour with Charles Hawthorne—raw, personal, and honest.”

A wave of anxiety washes over me, but I push it aside, focusing on the reward and not on my fear.

“Where do you want to do this?” my PR manager asks.

I’m about to suggest my office, where I feel safest, but Daisy speaks up.