Page 9 of The Rogue and His Flower

Dalton chews on his lip, giving me a look I can't quite interpret before he reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. My heart stills.

"Is that what I think it is?" I blurt out, dragging in a shaky breath.

"Open it," he replies, pushing the small box across the table between us.

Reaching for it, I flip open the lid. "It's..."

"An engagement ring, Daisy," he finishes for me, a small smile jerking up his lips.

I stare at the huge princess cut diamond set in platinum gold. I'm no expert on the value of such things, but given its size, and Dalton's reputation for extravagant gestures, I can only imagine the cost.

"This is absurd," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't accept this."

"Why not?" he asks, his voice tight.

"Because it isn't real."

"I can assure you that diamond is very real, and worth a substantial amount of money."

"That's not what I meant," I retort, closing the lid and pushing it back across the table towards him.

"Daisy, you're my fiance, my future wife. Youwillwear this ring," he hisses out, sliding it back towards me.

"This is not how I imagined things to go," I admit quietly, disappointment expanding in my chest. This ring isn't me. Nothing about this proposal is what I'd wanted for myself.

"Do you want me to make a grand gesture, to get down on one knee, is that it?" he asks, pushing upright as he snatches up the ring, removing it from the box before rounding the table.

"What are you doing?" I hiss, my cheeks flooding with heat as he kneels before me. "People will see!"

"Let them,” Dalton declares, his eyes locked on to mine as reaches for my left hand, his fingers warm as they clasp my palm.

Around us, the conversations fade away, leaving only the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Dalton's expression is earnest, vulnerable almost, and yet I don't trust it, I can't. This is all an act, a show for the people watching. He’s always been very good at that.

"Daisy Hammer, will you marry me?" Dalton asks, his voice ringing loud in the silence.

My stomach coils, and tears prick my eyes but not for the reason everyone here might think. This is all a lie, and even though I chose this, chose to marry Dalton, it still hurts knowing that. I always imagined an intimate proposal, just me and the man I loved somewhere secluded, romantic, not here in this members’ lounge surrounded by judgemental strangers.

Dalton holds the ring over the end of my finger, as though I have a choice to say no, that this engagement will only become real if I agree to his proposal, but we both know that's bullshit. It became real the moment I signed the contract.

"Daisy?" Dalton questions, his voice dropping, his shoulders tense as he looks up at me. There’s a tightness around his eyes, and for the briefest of moments he seems lost somehow.

"Yes, I'll marry you," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

His face lights up with a triumphant smile as he slips the ring onto my finger, and the surrounding guests begin to clap in stilted applause, as though they too suspect that all is not as it seems.

Sensing their doubt, I force a smile, my eyes flickering from the ring on my finger back to Dalton's expectant gaze.The weight of the ring feels heavier than anything I've ever experienced, a physical reminder of the choice I made, and the path I’m willingly walking down.

As Dalton rises to his feet and pulls me into a tight embrace, I can't help but feel a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. We both know that this engagement isn't just a union of two people; it's a contract sealed with secret agreements and hidden agendas, and as much as I try to push down the rising doubts, they claw at the edges of my mind, whispering truths I'm not ready to confront.

Dalton eases back slightly, his fingers dusting across my cheek as he stares down at me. “Shall we seal this with a kiss?” he murmurs, and there isn’t a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

If I didn't know any better I could be fooled into thinking that he really wants this, wantsme, but then I remember our contract and the stipulations written within it. We have to make this look real.

"Fine," I whisper back. "Just do it."

He licks his lips, his arm circling my back as he pulls me tighter against him and presses his lips against mine in a gesture that should be filled with joy and promise, but all I feel is the cool press of uncertainty against my mouth.

Mine. His. Ours.

---