Page 36 of Disavowed

He’d let this play out, but if something changed and he thought Daisy was in any immediate danger, he’d kill Jack in a heartbeat and fuck the operation.

The elevator doors opened and Dom got in. As the doors closed, the truth kicked him hard. If anything happened to Daisy because of the decisions he made, he wouldn’t be capable of living another day on this earth.

Chapter Ten

As the cab stopped to let her out in front of the door to her shop, Daisy looked up at the red neon sign. Highland Floral was all hers, and she was damn proud of it. Good thing it earned her a nice income, because she’d just gotten the repair estimate on her Mercedes and it wasn’t pretty.

Not only would the car be in the shop until next week but she’d have to pay a small fortune to get it fixed. She didn’t know which was costing her more, the Mercedes or the city’s exorbitant taxi fares.

She paid the driver, then hefted her purse and leather briefcase over her shoulder. Both bags matched the snug red sheath and sweater she’d worn, and the coordinating red and gold earrings and necklace capped off the outfit nicely.

Morning sounds of the greatest city on earth came to her. Horns blaring. People shuffling past on their way to work. Food vendors rolling their silver carts into place for the day. She paused before entering the shop. It had been hard work and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears getting her business to where it was now. She only wished her parents had lived to see her accomplishments.

Every time she thought of the train derailment that had claimed their lives, utter sadness enveloped her. At least the desolation she’d experienced then had diminished to a dull, occasional ache. It had taken two years to get to the point where she didn’t cry every morning, and another ten years after that to stop hating her grandparents. And now they were dead, too. From old age.

Daisy pushed open the door to her shop, surprised at the unexpected resurgence of anger over the callous way her grandparents had treated her. She realized Dom was the reason for her mood. She’d once hoped he would be the one to love her and help her pick up the pieces of her shattered family life. Maybe even be the father of her children. But he never would be. Like her grandparents, he’d thrown her away like trash.

“Morning, Daisy.” Marjie, her fifty-something assistant, waved to her from the display room counter where she sat slicing thorns off a bucket of red long-stem roses.

“Hey, Marj.” She waved back, smiling. Marjie Evans had been with her since she’d opened the shop, and Daisy was proud of her ability to retain employees. It was a sign of a good, stable work environment. “Jack here?” she asked, eager and yet apprehensive to see him. She still wasn’t fully on board with the idea of dating him.

“He’s in the back, loading urns for the Piazza.” Marjie indicated with the floral knife in her hand to the back of the shop. “He knows how swamped we are with all the extra deliveries lately, so he got in early. He brought you coffee,” she added with a wink and a knowing smile. “I think he’s sweet on you.”

Daisy froze, not completely sure whether Marjie’s observations made her feel happy or anxious.

Give him a chance.

“We have a date tomorrow night,” she admitted, still not sure how she felt about having accepted Jack’s offer.

A bright smile lit Marjie’s face. “It’s about time. You haven’t been on a date in quite a while. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

“Thanks.” She nodded and smiled at her assistant. It was about time.

She headed to her office, inhaling that flowery mix that made all floral shops smell unique. After setting her bags on the desk, she sat in her rolling chair and stared at the deli cup of French roast coffee waiting for her. It reminded her of that morning so long ago, after she’d woken up in her bed. Alone, praying that Dom had only gone out to get coffee and bagels for breakfast.

You were foolish then, and you’re foolish now. Time to move on.

Uttering a sigh, she pulled out the Piazza drawings she’d shown Alex the other night. Unfortunately that, too, reminded her of Dom. Watching him teach Nicky multiplication tables by using bullets had been amusing, but it was also clear that Nicky loved Dom as if he really were the boy’s uncle. He was good with kids. Just not with her.

She took a sip of coffee, then spread out the drawings. After making pencil notations for placement of the giant flower urns in the grand ballroom, she realized she’d have to go with Jack to the Piazza to verify the layout herself.

Flipping to another schematic of the Piazza’s grand ballroom, she yawned. After Dom had left her apartment, sleep had been slow in coming. She’d lain awake for hours, her lips still bruised from his kisses, her body heated as if his skilled fingers were again skimming across her bare skin.

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

Loud thumping sounded from the open bay door as Jack loaded the heavy urns onto the delivery truck. Then she heard him talking to someone, and his tone was far from friendly. She got up and headed to the loading door. Jack stood next to the truck, talking to another man on the sidewalk. Beside them were several large flower urns. She hung back just inside the door to listen and watch.

“I told you not to come here.” Jack’s body was tense, his fists clenched as if he were about to slug the other man.

The guy was shorter than Jack and lanky, with thinning brown hair. Like Jack, he wore jeans and a work shirt tucked into his pants. Over his left breast pocket was an embroidered Magellan Foods patch. Magellan was one of several food service companies that supplied the Piazza.

“I’ll do whatever I think is best,” the stranger growled in a low voice. “And I don’t answer to you, either.”

Jack must have sensed her presence because he jerked his head around, locking his angry gaze onto her for a brief instant before turning back to the other man. “Stay out of my way,” he hissed.

Curious, Daisy stepped down onto the sidewalk.

“Morning, boss,” Jack said with an easy smile, though his posture was stiff and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.