Page 4 of The Rogue and His Flower

“You’re one arrogant bastard, do you know that?” I hiss, taking another step away from him, my back hitting the wall.

“Maybe,” he replies.

The leisurely smile that pulls up his lips has my stomach coiling in anger as he leans his forearm against the wall, trapping my body against his. I’m vaguely aware of a member of staff moving at the end of the hallway, and I stiffen.

“I guess the show starts now,” he replies, aware that we’re being watched as he drops his head closer to mine.

“I’m assuming your arsehole father made them sign non-disclosure agreements?” I hiss, flicking my eyes to their maid who is dusting an ornament, trying and failing not to notice our interaction. “So this doesn’t count.”

He smirks. “The hell it doesn’t,fiancé.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” I warn, my breath hitching, as his mouth hovers over mine.

“Oh, I dare,” he replies before smashing his lips against mine in a rough kiss.

For a second I’m so shocked that all I can do is let him kiss me. His lips are warm, his kiss urgent, desperate almost. I gasp, and he takes the opportunity to lick his tongue inside my mouth as his free hand reaches up, curling his fingers into my hair and tugging me closer. His scent wafts between us, a familiar cologne of warm cedarwood mixed with heady notes of musk and spice.

His groan surprises me given I can feel his anger in this kiss. His anger at me for agreeing to this charade, at his father for forcing us both into this position, and at my brother for getting himself stuck with this debt in the first place, even if it was out of love for me. There’s a part of me, the tiniest, most miniscule part that feels sympathy for him. Then I’m reminded whyheagreed, and that sympathy dissolves. Dalton is selfish, he wants to maintain his lifestyle. Marrying me and producing an heir is the only way he’s going to ensure that happens.

My cheeks flood with heat, anger coursing through me as I push against his chest, not caring who sees. “AndIknow how to handle men like you,” I seethe, kneeing him in the balls.

“Fuck!” he yells, doubling over with a groan, his hands flying to his groin as he cups himself.

Spinning on my heel, I stride along the hallway, ignoring his call for me to wait, to stop. As soon as I reach my car, I yank open the door, slamming it shut behind me just as he comes running outside.

“Daisy, just wait a damn minute!” he yells, and despite the look of agony on his face, that speaks of something deeper than a bruised dick, I don’t wait.

Instead, I give him the middle finger as I drive away, hating that my first encounter with my husband-to-be was filled with so much anger and loathing. But, really, what did I expect? This is Dalton we’re talking about. He’s incapable of thinking about anyone other than himself. Gritting my teeth, I resign myself to the fact that this is going to be my life for the foreseeable future.

CHAPTER TWO

DALTON

Pacing up and down in my bedroom suite, I rip off my suit jacket and throw it on my bed, then loosen the tie around my neck, yanking it free. Dragging in a deep breath, I try and fail to calm my racing pulse, but no matter how many times I force air into my lungs, I still feel like I’m fucking drowning.

Yesterday, Daisy and I signed our marriage contract, and like it or not, we’re bound to each other. Afterwards, she’d angered me with her taunts about having an affair during our marriage and I did something I shouldn’t have and kissed her, breaking my promise to Drix despite the lie I told him today. He’s been staying in the flat above his gym ever since Lia found out the truth about his role for the families, giving her space. He’s always been a good man, thoughtful, and in that moment faced with his anger, I said I’d do my best by Daisy, that I would find it in myself to at least try and make her happy.

But that’s all just fucking words,bravado.

Truth be known, I don’t even like myself very much, so how the fuck can I expect Daisy to like me, let alone tolerate me? Not to mention the fact she’s infuriating. Always has been. How the hell am I supposed to live with her snide digs when I can’t throw her over my lap and pinken her arse like I’ve done to multiplewomen I’ve fucked over the years? Don’t get me wrong, they’ve always enjoyed such attention, knowing that with pain comes pleasure, but that is off the table for me and Daisy.

I can’t even sleep with anyone else for the entirety of our relationship to get some fucking relief. The only silver lining is that neither can Daisy, because I’ll be fucked if she thinks she can get her rocks off with some random arsehole whilst married to me. I let Daisy believe that particular stipulation in the contract was my father’s idea, but in truth, it was mine. She may never truly belong to me, but I’ll be damned if she’ll belong to anyone else. If I have to suffer, then so can she. It’s only fair.

Goddamn her. How could I let this happen? How could I agree to this fucking sham?

Because you’re a selfish bastard, that’s why, a voice inside my head taunts me.

“Motherfucker,” I yell, striding towards my ensuite, needing a moment to wash away the guilt I feel.

It’s not a feeling I’m used to. I’m Dalton Gunn, for fuck’s sake. I take what I want, when I want it. I’m rich, and enjoy every damn minute of the lifestyle being wealthy provides me. I fuck for pleasure, and I sure as hell don’t do feelings, least of all guilt, and yet here I amfeelingexactly that. Guilt at signing the contract. Guilt at lying to my best friend. Guilt at kissing Daisy.

If her taunts had riled me up in that moment, then the hurt in her eyes as she pushed me away soon put it out. I’d overstepped. I was wrong. I deserved a knee to the bollocks.

Resting my hands against the sink, I look at my reflection. Dark circles ring my eyes, and my usually put together appearance is more than a little ruffled. Ordinarily, when I need to relieve the stress, I would grab my phone and call one of the many women ready and willing to spend the night. Whoever was lucky enough to be chosen would enjoy the best sex of their life,and a night filled with multiple orgasms, because whilst I might be selfish in all other aspects of my life, I’m not in the bedroom.

I get off on other people’s pleasure, love it when the women I’m fucking trust me to take care of their needs. It excites me when I figure out what turns them on. It’s like finding the key to Pandora’s box. Some women like dirty talk, some prefer praise. Others like to be bound, degraded, whipped, tied up. More often than not, most women just want to be adored, to feel for once like they’re the centre of someone’s universe, not just a quick fuck. And whilst I never promise to love any of the women I sleep with, I do at least give them my full attention for the hours I’m with them.

Well, almost always. There was that one unfortunate night when I made the mistake of calling Drix whilst fucking the woman I was with. I made it up to her though.

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