Lib Novel Page 66
“Of course you would think so.”
Is she making fun of my habits?
What if she is? Why do I care? She knew what she was getting into.
Having no genuine reason to simply stare at my wife any longer, I get up and walk toward the closet.
I remove my gold cufflinks that are embossed with the Hawthorne crest and place them onto the glass tray. After taking off my suit jacket, I’m removing the bow tie when a throat clears behind me. My eyes snap up to Daisy’s reflection in the mirror. It’s impossible to miss the warm tingling sensation that starts from my chest and radiates outward at the sight. Daisy has taken off her heels and she suddenly looks too small, too fragile.
“Is it okay if I use your bathroom? But be warned, I’ll need at least thirty minutes since I have two dozen hairpins secured in my hair right now.”
I leave the loose bow tie hanging around my neck and turn around.
“Daisy, this is your room, your home, too. You don’t have to ask my permission for anything. Take the bathroom for as long as you need to. There are four bathrooms in this house for my use.”
Her furrowed forehead relaxes. “On a scale of one to ten, how high is your panic meter at seeing me encroach upon your private space, Charles?”
I can’t even help my grin. “I think you know the answer to that question, since you know me so well, Miss Price.”
“I’m going by Mrs. Hawthorne these days, boss.” She winks and turns around, escalating my heartbeat with her words.
Fucking hell.
Why the hell was it so hot to hear that title on her lips?
After taking a shower in the guest bathroom and changing into track pants and a T-shirt, I situate myself on the couch, sifting through my unread emails. I try to focus on the work, but my gaze keeps drifting toward the locked bathroom door, especially with Daisy’s muffled voice coming through intermittently as she speaks to herself—which I verified when I heard her say her name a few times as I was near the door by coincidence.
Thirty minutes later, the door of the bathroom opens, and my pulse ricochets against my rib cage. Dressed in a silk white PJ set with colorful butterflies, Daisy saunters inside holding a hanger with her wedding dress. Her face is wiped clean of makeup, and her hair is pulled up in some sort of messy bun.
The thud in my chest intensifies as I watch her looking so beautiful without even trying.
“Charles!” Daisy waves her hands before me, and I realize I’ve completely zoned out.
“What?” I adjust my laptop, which is on the verge of falling, and also to hide the reaction she’s having on me.
“I asked what the sound you made was?”
Fuck, what did I say?
“There was no sound. And if you don’t mind, I’m trying to catch up on some work.”
Her expression remains confused for a beat longer, until she shrugs. “If you say so.”
I breathe freely only when she’s on the bed, tugging the covers over her. Daisy turns off the lights and whispers, “Good night, Charles. I know how much you like your silence. I’ll try to fall asleep quickly and quietly.”
“Don’t worry, Daisy. I’m considering your chatter a white noise to my silence these days.”
I hear her snort and wait for some smartass one-of-a-kind comment, but what really comes forces me to bite my lip so as to not burst out in laughter and wake up my sleeping snoring wife.
Mrs. Hawthorne is a damn snorer.
16
BE A GOOD WIFE
DAISY
My eyes open and I need a beat for everything to come back, including the reason why I’m sprawled out in a room that looks fancier than a first-class hotel room.