Page 8 of The Rogue and His Flower

"I'm so sorry, madam," the waiter stammers, his expression panicked as Dalton stands.

"You idiot!" Dalton growls at the waiter as he rounds the table and grips my elbow gently, his long fingers pressing into my skin. "Daisy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I retort, shards of glass dropping to the floor as I stand. "I'll just go and clean up."

Dalton throws a glare at the waiter. "Clean this mess up, and replace our drinks," he snaps, before guiding me away from the table and towards the restrooms situated at the far side of the lounge, his palm pressing into my lower back.

"I'm quite capable of cleaning myself up," I say as he pushes open the door to the ladies room.

But Dalton doesn't listen, his jaw set with determination as he steers me inside.

The room is empty, the muted lighting casting a warm glow over the elegant decor. I head towards the sink, but before I canturn on the gold-plated faucet, Dalton's hand lands on mine, stopping me in my tracks.

"Let me help you," he says softly, his deep-set, blue eyes searching mine.

The air between us thins, or at least it feels that way as he regards me. Dalton has always been that man, you know the type, the ones who suck the oxygen from the room and steal if for themselves.

"I don't think so," I reply tightly, shrugging him off as I wet a paper towel and begin to dab at the stain on my blouse. Only I seem to be making it worse, not better. I let out a heavy sigh. "Pretty sure this is ruined."

"Maybe you should just dry it off?" Dalton suggests, eyeing the hand dryer.

"I guess," I mutter, unbuttoning and shrugging out of my ruined blouse as I lift my gaze back up to meet his.

The heated look in his eyes stills my hand, and I realise in that moment that I'm practically naked in an empty restroom with a sex addict, who also happens to be my fiancé.

"You're full of surprises, Daisy," he says, a little too gruffly for my liking as his gaze drops to my breasts encased in a pretty cerise lace bralette. I'm not sure if he's referring to my choice of bra or the fact that I've just stripped in front of him.

"Don't get any funny ideas," I retort, giving him my back as I place my soaked blouse under the hand dryer and let the warm air dry it off.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he mutters after a moment.

After a few minutes, my blouse is dry enough to wear once again. As I slip it back on, I can feel his gaze burning into my back. It's unnerving, yet strangely thrilling. Though I quickly shake that feeling off. Everyone knows Dalton has no discernment when it comes to women, as long as they have a vagina, he'll fuck them.

"Believe it or not, I wanted to come to the hospital. I wanted to see if you were okay," he suddenly admits. "Areyou okay, Daisy?"

"Thank you for your concern," I reply quietly, my fingers stilling on the top button of my blouse as he steps closer, his presence looming behind me. "But I'm perfectly fine."

"You sure about that?" he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear, his body way too close for comfort.

My pulse flutters at his proximity, and I turn to face him, only to find his lips dangerously close to mine. The air crackles with tension, and I find myself questioning why I'm not shoving him away.

“I’m fine,” I repeat.

"Something tells me you're lying," he adds, his gaze flicking to my lips then back up again to meet my eyes.

"You might want to back up, Dalton. You know what happened before when you stepped out of line," I remind him, hating that he sees something in me that I thought I'd hidden.

"We're in public," he counters. "Fiancé."

"We're in a restroom,arsehole," I snap back.

Before things can escalate further, the door behind us swings open, jolting us apart. A middle-aged woman enters, her eyes widening in surprise. Dalton cocks a brow, and I glare at him, seeing the intention in his eyes. Fortunately for us both he doesn't try to kiss me.

"We were just leaving," Dalton says, stepping back, his charming mask slipping back into place as he smiles at the woman and takes my hand in his.

When we reach our table, Dalton releases my hand and pulls out my chair with practised ease, offering me a polite smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Immediately reaching for my cocktail that the waiter replaced in our absence, I gulp it down in one go, thankful for the distraction.

"So why am I here exactly?" I ask, placing the empty glass back on the table between us.

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