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I’ve never seen him look so angry, and for a moment, I think it’s over. He’s realizing at this very moment that he’s too old to be taking care of an irresponsible woman, who can’t even remember to eat.
So when he rushes toward me, I’m taken by surprise. His strong hands grip my face as he forces me to look at him.
“You’re not going to let that happen again, you understand me? You’re going to eat better. Three square meals a day. Are we clear?”
“I will. I promise,” I choke out.
“I can’t…” Whatever he was about to say is lost, his words trailing off as he presses his lips together. After he looks away for a moment, like he’s composing himself, he turns back toward me with a stern expression on his face. It looks as if he’s about to say something, but just then, the curtain opens and the doctor walks in.
She talks fast and goes over my test results in a rush. She talks more to Ronan than me, and I get a little irritated. I don’t know if she thinks he’s my dad or if she’s checking him out—not that I would blame her. Even in these hospital lights, he looks gorgeous. But I want to yell at her that it’smyhealth. My fault. My issue to fix.
I don’t, of course.
Basically, she says I’m fine. No sign of diabetes or a concussion. I just had a major blood sugar crash, and I need to learn to eat better. Stress and travel can throw off my system—it’s all the same things I’ve heard many times before.
It’s another hour before we’re finally going through the discharge process and climbing into Ronan’s car to go home. I can’t tell if he’s still mad at me, but when he pulls me into his arms in the back seat, I take it as a good sign. But there are still traces of anger there—I can tell.
There has to be some way for me to make it up to him. He can’t stay mad at me forever.
RULE #24: TEACH HER A LESSON
Ronan
I squeeze my fists for the tenth time since leaving the hospital. My palm is itching. And not because I’d like to take my anger out on Daisy or hurt her in any way. I’m not a fucking monster.
While we were in the hospital, I saw the sad, regretful look on her face, and I could see just how bad she felt for letting me find her like that and for scaring the ever-loving shit out of me.
I have plans for her when we get home. Mostly I’d like to just hold her. Kiss her. Feel her heartbeat and her breath and soak in just how alive and healthy she is, but I can’t. Not yet.
Daisy wants to know what it’s like to be mine, and I intend to show her.
But before I do that, I have to take care of her first.
“You need to eat,” I say in a cool command when we get into the apartment. She’s standing by the door, looking defeated. Her long blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Okay,” she replies compliantly before disappearing into the bathroom to wash up.
While I pull out the meals Agatha prepared for us, putting them in the microwave, per her instructions, I think about how much things have changed with Daisy in such a short period of time.
In just a week, she’s become so much more to me than a mysterious girl that fascinated me. She’s quickly risen to a place in my life that scares me. More than Julia. More than Shannon. More than my ex-wife and more than any other woman in between. I wish I could understand why.
Aside from the fact that Daisy is beautiful, smart, and funny. This is about more than her good qualities. It’s about the way she makes me feel when we’re together. The way she makes me feel about my own life.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words, and never stops—at all…
That’s how Daisy makes me feel. Like I have more life left to live than I let myself think. Like I might have more love left to give.
The microwave beeps and I pull out the plate, setting it on the table for Daisy, with silverware and a glass of water. After she comes out of the bathroom, I point to her plate and say in a cold, emotionless command, “Eat.”
She swallows, moving toward the table without arguing.
I might be overstepping, but Daisy told me she wanted me to be her Dom. Fuck, she calls meDaddy,like she’s been dying to do it since the moment we met. Well, if she wants me to treat her like she belongs to me, then this is what she gets.
And she hasn’t seen anything yet.
Wait until I get her to the bedroom.
I’m letting my anger force my decisions, and I shouldn’t. I need to calm down. Think clearly.
