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“Don’t think he wouldn’t, Vienna,” Travis advised. “The man is ruthless through and through. His own interests come first.”
Actually, I had signed a prenup. There was in fact such a clause in the contract but, according to my attorney, it was a standard thing. I hadn’t really cared about any of the clauses. I didn’t want money or anything else from him. Except maybe the bed. “So what are you suggesting I do?”
“Stop letting him use you,” said Travis. “He’s done plenty of that already. You can walk away now, which will mean his little plot won’t have paid off and he’ll lose access to his trust fund. Then at least you’ll have your pride. If you stay with him, you’ll be left with nothing at all. I hope you make the right choice.” With that, he and his wife left.
Shit, Dane was going to flip when he heard that they’d come here to spout that “advice.” Currently, he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with this calmly. I could delay telling him until later, right? No, it was probably best that I told him straight away in case someone else mentioned that they saw Hope and Travis in the building. Dane wouldn’t like hearing about it secondhand.
My resolve to tell him about it melted when he stalked out of the elevator a short while later looking ready to draw blood. I had no idea what had crawled up his ass and died a terrible death, but he showed no signs of calming any time soon.
He didn’t even greet me with a simple eyebrow raise. He marched past me, stormed into the office, and slammed the door shut. Huh.
Knowing from past experience that it was best to leave him alone when such moods had a tight grip on him, I went back to transcribing notes I’d taken from an earlier meeting. The whole time, my mind kept drifting back to something Travis had said …
If you two divorce, there’s no way you’ll keep working here, is there? No. That means you’ll be out of a job.
Stupid as it made me, I hadn’t even thought about that. But he was right. There was no way I could continue to work here afterward. Not only because it would look weird to others if I did, but because I didn’t think we could go back to being simply “boss” and “PA.”
Our dynamics had sort of shifted slightly. The marriage might be a sham, but we’d kissed, touched, shared secrets, and even lived together. He wasn’t my husband, no, but he also wasn’t simply my boss. I didn’t think I could go back to booking dinner reservations for him and his lady friends.
I’d always felt a twinge of jealousy whenever I’d thought of him with other women. But I’d been able to box that away and keep professional walls erected between us. Those walls weren’t so steady anymore. And it would be hard to move on because my simple crush no longer felt like a simple crush. It had grown. Shifted. Lost its harmless air.
Plus, how the hell was I supposed to explain to any potential boyfriends that I still worked for my ex-husband? They’d consider that a red flag for sure.
Putting it all out of my mind for now, I went back to work. The rest of the day passed rather quickly. We were soon sitting in the car on our way back to his estate. Dane’s black mood hadn’t whatsoever improved, and the atmosphere was so thick it was palpable.
He didn’t speak a word. Nor did he work on his phone. He just stared out of the window, his expression as hard as stone.
I gave him the space and silence he seemed to need, knowing better than to try to appease him. He’d harshly rebuff those attempts for certain, and then I’d have to flip him off again.
No sooner had the car pulled up in the courtyard than Dane was slipping out of it. Without a word of goodbye to Sam, he prowled up the path and disappeared into the house.
Skirting the hood of the car, I smiled at the driver. “I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, Mrs. Davenport,” said Sam, giving me a pitying look. He probably thought that me and Dane had had some kind of lover’s quarrel.
A little stiff around my neck and shoulders, I decided to go take a bath before I ate dinner. Soaking in the hot water did wonders for my aching muscles, so I was feeling a lot more relaxed when, clad in my pjs, I later went down to the kitchen.
I was rooting through the cupboards, looking for inspiration as to what to have for dinner, when Dane came striding into the room, seeming no less moody.
“I’m making beef stir fry,” I told him. “Want some?”
