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Well, you did tell your boss you’re quitting. That’s some bad bitch material that Cal would be proud of.
I groan. That was so stupid on my part. Instead of biting my tongue, I let my anger get the best of me. My phone buzzes for the fourth time since I walked out. Declan’s name flashes across the screen, and I sigh as I answer the call.
Be an adult.
“Tell me where you are.” His clipped voice rumbles through the phone.
“Out.”
So much for acting mature.But seriously, who is he to order me around like that? Has he learned nothing from what happened earlier?
“I swear to God the moment I find you…”
His half-finished threat makes the back of my neck prickle.
What the hell?
“I’m fine.”
“You’re out in the middle of the fucking jungle.”
I coo at him through the phone. “Technically it’s called a bush. Not that you would know since you made me plan everything for a trip I can’t even enjoy.”
“Shut up and tell me where you are.”
A soft laugh escapes me before I have a chance to kill it. “This is our exact problem.” I keep my voice low just in case he is looming too close to the glass doors surrounding our villa. “You continue to order me around like some disobedient housewife, and I continue to push back.”
“If you don’t tell me where I can find you—”
“I’m lounging outside by the pool.”
Our call disconnects. The pace of my heart increases with each second that ticks by. My ability to hear is drowned out by the whooshing sound of blood in my ears.
The hairs on my arms rise at the sound of the sliding door opening. I refuse to look over my shoulder at Declan, so I keep my eyes glued to the starry sky despite the burning sensation spreading across my skin from his assessment.
Declan doesn’t move for a whole minute. I consider him to be an expert when it comes to torture, given the way he makes me wait on pins and needles while he says nothing. While I have always admired his ability to make people crack under pressure, today I find it unbearable. I almost give in to the temptation to look over my shoulder and check on him, but I stay strong.
The wind conceals my sigh of relief as the sliding door glides shut again. Declan’s shoes clap against the wood deck, the thudding matching the staccato of my heart. He lingers close by as if he wants to keep his distance.
I expect him to yell at me. Part of me thinks I deserve it after walking out on him in the middle of an argument. I know it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but I’m only human. While it takes a lot to make me explode, once I do, hell hath no fury like an assistant scorned.
The rebellious part of me stands by my decision, knowing something about him needs to give. I’m not a robot. I have feelings and dreams and a hope that I won’t spend the rest of my life assisting him to achieve his goals while putting mine on hold. And if he can’t see that, then maybe it’s time I move on from my position.
I might have tried and failed before when I applied for a job transfer, but that’s what life is all about.
“We need to talk.”
My eyes slide from the stars to his face. I open my mouth to speak, but the words seem to get trapped in my throat. I’m not sure what to say. Declan isn’t the type of man who wants totalk. That alone puts me on edge, and I become unsure of myself.
He takes a seat on the chair parallel to mine. Unlike me, he doesn’t lean back, instead choosing to remain in an upright sitting position. The shadows cling to him like a cloak, concealing most of his face. I don’t need any light to know he is focused on me. My body does the job for me, sending a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.
“I’m sorry.” His voice can barely be heard over a gust of wind.
I turn my face away, shielding him from seeing how my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.
He must take my silence as quiet approval. “I made a mistake.”
I might need to take up learning sign language because I have officially lost the ability to speak. Declan doesn’t apologize, and he sure as hell doesn’t admit when he iswrong. That should serve as my first warning that something is off between us.
