The morning sun streamed through Daisy's window, waking her earlier than expected. Her ankle throbbed faintly as she shifted in bed, reminding her of yesterday's fall and the man who had done absolutely nothing to help.
She groaned, covering her face with her pillow. Why did it have to be him? The first big brand partnership of her career, and it had to be tied to the one person she'd rather never see again.
Dragging herself out of bed, she limped to the bathroom and took a warm shower, letting the steam loosen the tension in her muscles. She had barely finished dressing when her phone buzzed.
It was Lucy.
Lucy: Morning! Are you going to the office or working from home?
Daisy: Home. I'm not risking another fall today.
As she sent the message, another notification appeared this one was from Desmond's company.
Message: Meeting at lunch. It's important.
Her eyes narrowed. No greeting, just a command. Wow. I just started and they're already this bossy.
Her ankle still ached, and she wasn't sure she could walk much. So instead of replying, she tossed her phone onto the couch.
Across the city, Desmond sat at the head of a polished conference table, surrounded by his department heads. His mind wasn't fully on the presentation in front of him. Every few minutes, he glanced at his phone, half expecting a reply from Petty Queen.
Richard stood at his side, briefing him on their afternoon schedule. "Your meeting with Miss Daisy is set for one p.m. at The Veranda. They have a private section ready."
"Good," Desmond replied curtly.
Richard hesitated. "She didn't confirm."
Desmond's lips twitched in mild irritation. "She'll come."
By noon, Daisy had convinced herself she wasn't going. She had too much work, her ankle hurt, and she refused to play into his little power games.
But curiosity gnawed at her. What does he want? Another petty jab? Or is this about the contract?
Her ankle felt a bit better, so she decided to at least hear him out.
At 12:30, she finally sighed, grabbed her bag, and muttered under her breath, "Fine. I'll go. This better be important, Mr. Jerk Face, or you're in my bad book for life."
The Veranda was all glass walls and soft lighting—a place where important people held important talks. Daisy spotted Desmond immediately: relaxed in his seat, sipping coffee like he owned the place.
He looked up as she approached, a faint smirk on his lips. "I was starting to think you'd stand me up, Petty Queen."
She froze. "Excuse me?"
He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. "What? You don't like the title? I think it suits you perfectly."
Her jaw clenched. "If you called me here to insult me, I'm leaving."
"Sit," he said smoothly. "I called you here to give you a job. Trust me, seeing your face is the last thing I want to do."
Hearing that it was work-related, she reluctantly sat. "Fine. Go on."
Desmond's eyes locked on hers. "I want you to design something for me. There's a charity gala on Friday, and we'll need a variety of outfits in stock. I need at least fifty designs ready so I can hand them over to my sewing team."
Daisy blinked. "…What?"
He leaned forward. "You heard me. Or are you deaf too?"
Her pulse quickened not from flattery, but from the sheer nerve of him. "Fifty designs in two days? Are you trying to kill me? Pettiness doesn't look good on you."
Desmond's smirk deepened. "That's up to you to handle. Don't forget I signed a contract with your company."
Daisy stared at him, torn between throwing her drink in his face or walking out. Instead, she said tightly, "I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee I'll finish in that short a time."
"That isn't my concern," he replied. "Just make sure it's done."
Rolling her eyes, she stood, ready to leave but surprisingly, he stopped her.
"Stay."
"What?"
"You haven't had lunch. Sit. I'll drive you back after." His voice lowered slightly. "And I'm not letting you use your ankle as an excuse for missing the deadline."
Even though she despised him right now, he had a point her ankle throbbed, and she was hungry. Reluctantly, she sat back down.
Seeing her settle in, a faint smile tugged at his lips before he quickly hid it. He'd wanted to treat her to lunch ever since yesterday, knowing he'd partly caused her fall. Secretly, he was glad he'd convinced her to stay.