Page 10 of The Rogue and His Flower

And as his lips part, and I tentatively swipe my tongue into his mouth, something shifts almost imperceptibly. Maybe it's the fact that I've downed a strong cocktail, or perhaps it's because I truly need to make everyone believe this is real, but I kiss him back, welcoming the firm sweep of his tongue with a soft moan. He reacts immediately, his fingers sliding into my hair, gripping me tighter as I press myself against him and drag my hands up the firm planes of his muscular back.

Now as we kiss there's an air of desperation. I don't want Dalton, but I guess I just want to blot out this shit-show of aproposal with something that makes me feel more than just a means to an end. Even if it is pretend.

So we kiss like lovers might, like two people in love, and for a while I give in to the feeling of it and allow myself to believe in the lie. I let him press his body closer to mine. I submit to his demanding kiss, explore it even.

But no matter how much I try, all I keep thinking is that this is just a carefully orchestrated scene, and it makes me feel inexorably sad. Sensing the change in me, Dalton pulls back, his gaze turbulent.

"Daisy, I..." he falters, brushing his fingers over my cheek, frowning as he looks down at me.

"Don't. It's done," I reply softly, shoring up my defences, straightening my spine as I plaster on another smile. As we break apart, I notice the interested onlookers still glued to us both. They clap and murmur, gossiping amongst themselves.

"Congratulations," one gentleman says as he passes us by, his gaze flicking from Dalton to me, an eyebrow cocked quizzically.

I know what he's thinking, what is a man like Dalton Gunn doing marrying the adopted daughter of Hubert Hammer? Most of the people in this town know my history, or at least the only part of it Hubert and I were willing to share. I'm nothing but a kid abandoned by her parents, and fortunate enough to be adopted by a wealthy man. Like Dalton pointed out earlier, I've never fit in. I don't belong here, and I sure as hell don't belong to him, not in the way that counts.

"Thank you," Dalton replies, twining his hands with mine. "We're very happy, aren't we, Daisy?"

I nod, refusing to buy into this charade any more than I have too. This is a marriage of convenience, a lie, and I won't ever forget that. But for now, under the watchful eyes of strangers and amidst the facade of happiness, I bury those secrets deep within me, locking them away behind a smile that doesn't quitereach my eyes. This may not be the proposal I dreamed of, but it's the reality I chose.

As Dalton leads me out of the lounge, his fingers woven with mine, I realise that agreeing to this marriage is only the beginning of a twisted dance, where every step brings me further away from myself, and I can't help but wonder if I'll ever find my way back.

CHAPTER FOUR

DALTON

“You wanted to speak with me?” Daisy asks, stepping into my office at the hotel we both work at the following morning.

My eyes graze over her as she shuts the door, taking a seat opposite me. She’s wearing a navy blue pencil skirt, sheer tights and a white fitted blouse with the hotel’s name embroidered on the lapel. But as always, Daisy adds her own flair to the uniform with her unique earrings, bold lipstick and dramatic eyeliner. Today she has a pair of unicorn earrings dangling from each ear, and a deep purple lipstick which clashes vibrantly with her pink streaked, strawberry blonde hair.

“How are things?” I ask, flicking my gaze from her pouty mouth to her eyes. Pretty sure I went to sleep last night thinking about how plump her lips felt against mine. Frankly, that had surprised me more than the fact she actually kissed me back.

She squints at me, her button nose wrinkling, smooshing up the freckles splattered across the bridge. “Things?”

“Is work okay?” I ask, suddenly feeling like some tongue-tied imbecile. Well, this is fucking awkward.

“Is this my long overdue performance review? Are you going to give me a raise?” she throws back with a scoff before adding,“Oh no, wait, in a few weeks I won’t actually have a job anymore, will I?”

“That wasn’t down to me,” I retort, bristling at her hostility. I mean, I can’t fucking blame her for being pissed off, but she knows as well as I do that becominga lady of leisurewasn’t my decision.

“Hmm,” she replies, picking at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt.

“Listen, I wouldn’t have minded you continuing to work. I’m not like my father.”

At that she tips her head back and laughs, and I fold my arms across my chest, forcing myself not to react. Why is she the one person who so easily pushes my buttons? I’d love to shut her up with my cock in her mouth. That’d teach her.

“Seriously? You’re his clone, Dalton.”

“How so?” I ask out of morbid curiosity more than anything else.

“You really want to know?” she retorts, eying me, amusement and a glimmer of spite glinting in her eyes.

“May as well know how much you dislike me before we tie the knot,” I reply.

“Okay, well you asked for it.” Shifting in her seat, she rests her forearms on the table, flashing me a hint of cleavage as she leans forward. I force myself to look away. “For a start you’re arrogant. Though I suspect that comes as no great surprise.”

I shrug. “Arrogant. Got it. Anything else?”

“Oh, there’s plenty more. You’re vain,” she continues, grinning at me in a way that looks like a dog about to bite. “Materialistic. Selfish. Terrible with women–”

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