Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“Good morning, Grandma.”

“Charles, what happened yesterday? You left the meeting without a word, and then you didn’t pick up your phone. Is everything alright with you and Daisy?”

“Yes. She’s fine now.” I stand before the mirrored wall in my office. The special glass provides me a perfect view of Daisy’s desk, while she can’t catch me gawking at her.

“That’s good to hear. But since you weren’t there, the board rescheduled the meeting for after the holiday season. My assistant will send an email to Daisy, and I hope nothing comes up this time that is more urgent than the agreement on your CEO position.”

I don’t miss the hint of disapproval in her voice, but I have no regrets.

“I’m sure it was a one-time thing, Grandma,” I reply, watching Daisy water the plants on her desk while slowly talking to them. My lips twitch as she prances around, from one shrub to another, tending to her kingdom like a queen.

She finally places the elephant-shaped watering jar on the floor under her desk and grabs the pink Post-its.

With hurried steps, I step away from the wall, and I’m leaning against my desk when she knocks.

I wave for her to come in as my call ends. She walks up to the glass wall behind my desk and removes the Post-its from yesterday. My gaze follows her moves as, like every other day, she throws them into the empty paper trash can.

“So, which organ do I have to donate to compensate for pulling you out of a board meeting?” she asks without turning around, putting fresh task notes onto the wall.

“All your organs are safe for now, but if you’re planning to get kidnapped in the first week of February, I’d suggest postponing it for the following month.”

“Two jokes in twenty-four hours. There must be a long summer in hell for so much ice to crack.” Daisy looks over her shoulder and grins.

“Don’t get used to it. Anyway, did we hear anything about Vincent’s site?”

Daisy’s face is serious when she nods.

“Mr. Buffay has sent us a new assessment report confirming the workers’ observations. It appears that someone within Buffay Construction is exploiting the company by delivering substandard materials.”

My muscles tense as I once again imagine yesterday. “Please tell me we’ve canceled all our future contracts with them.”

Daisy stays silent, nervously biting her lips. I recognize the familiar expression—she’s searching for the best way to admit that she hasn’t done the job, and her reasoning likely involves something emotional.

But for once, I’m not feeling impatient or on the verge of exploding. In fact, I find myself oddly content, relishing in the sight of her furrowed brows, the indent on her lips left by her teeth, and even the faint stain of her pink lipstick as it trails behind.

As she’s busy sorting through her thoughts, memories of her in my bed flood my mind. I’m almost tempted to ask her if she’s given that any thought. I didn’t want us to have any regrets later, yet leaving her in that bed was without a doubt one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

Nothing and no one has ever looked as enticing. This morning, Daisy was the ultimate temptation, and I should be awarded some grand prize for walking away. But now I can’t wait to hear her decision, because in truth, I want her—my wife.

“Charles!” She waves her hand in front of me like an airport staff member directing traffic. “Did you hear what I just said?”

Fuck! “Of course I did,” I lie through my teeth. “You want to give Buffay another chance.”

“So you agree?”

“Not at all. I didn’t marry you to become a widower before I could show you what it really means to be my wife.”

Daisy sucks in a breath, and seeing the pink flush on her cheeks, I know for sure she’s thinking about this morning like I am. I push away from where I’m leaning against the desk and approach her. Suddenly, our few feet of distance is too much.

“Mr. Buffay is a good man, Charles.”

“Should I remind you that you’re my wife?” I continue until I’m right in front of her. My wingtips align with the points of her heels, and even with those, she barely reaches my chest.

“I’m serious.” Her voice wavers.

“And you think I’m not? I take my possessions very seriously, and you, my dear wife, are priceless.”

“I’m not your possession.” She wrinkles her nose in that adorable way that makes me crazy. “Besides, jealousy doesn’t suit you, my dear husband.”