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Her eyes felt tired, and she had to re-read her words several times to make sure she got it right.
At one point, she had written “The cat became pregnant with coffee” when she was supposed to write about the best way to choose a domain hosting site.
Mairi glanced at the wall clock, which was beautiful in its simplicity but gasp-worthy, too, with its frame made entirely of 24-karat gold.
Nine-fifteen.
It had her stretching in her seat before getting up. Her stomach growled as she did, reminding her that she had barely eaten throughout the day – and night. Mairi ignored it, already too tired to make herself anything. She climbed up the stairs to their room, telling herself she’d only take a fifteen-minute nap.
But the nap turned out to be more than what it should be. She was so tired she succumbed to a heavy sleep, and she didn’t even stir when Damen came inside their room and stopped next to the bed.
She was dressed like she had gone outside. Where had she gone and why did she seem so tired? He could easily get her bodyguards to answer him, but he resisted the urge. Doing so meant he did not trust her—-
But I trust her.
“I trust her.”
“I trust her.”
“I trust her.” And yet even with Damen repeating the words so many times, he still couldn’t make himself sound like he meant it.
AS DAYS PASSED, HIS puzzlement turned into unease, which later deepened into resentment. Why did she have to fucking change? Was she really so enamored with doing whatever the fuck she did when he was working in his office that she now loved his money more than she loved him?
Whatever it was that Mairi was doing, it must be so tiring, he thought sarcastically, that she had to blow two thousand dollars on a fucking spa treatment. It had been the first item on his most recent credit card statement and he had been so disgusted by it he had simply signed the check to pay his dues without checking the rest of the statement.
He was no cheapskate. His former mistresses had spent ten times more than that when they had gone to their favorite spas, and he hadn’t cared. But somehow, when it was Mairi involved, it did not feel right.
The memory of it set him on edge, and he moodily stared at his half-empty mug of coffee. Mairi used to prepare him one every morning, and it would always be ready by the time he came down to the kitchen. Now—-
“Good morning.” Mairi’s voice was a little wan as she joined him in the kitchen, interrupting his thoughts.
Looking at her now and noting the air of exhaustion that never seemed to leave her these days, he remarked casually, “You look tired.” She did not appear wasted but she did appear weary – too much so for someone who for all intents and purposes did not have a job.
Mairi flinched at Damen’s words. Did that mean she appeared ugly to him now, only he was too polite to tell her so? With him seated across her looking like a marble statue come to life, she couldn’t help feeling so.
Not wanting him to know she was hurt by his words, she said flippantly, “Too much partying.”
His lips tightened, but he chose not to comment, knowing if he did it would not be nice words. Again, he was tempted to ask for a report from the bodyguards he had tailing Mairi. But nowadays, it had become a matter of trust and pride.
Esther made constant digs about Mairi in the office and the words inevitably reached him, too. Did her son really know what that American whore was up to when he was away from home?
No. He did not. But he loved and trusted Mairi. He would not let Esther ruin things for him. And if she continued pushing him, one day she would push him too far and she would regret it.
“Are you going to the office?” She wished she could tell Damen that she missed him, but the words were stuck in her throat. More and more, she felt like Damen was withdrawing from her and she had no idea how to stop it.
“Yes. I don’t have any pressing meetings today, but I like to spend a few hours in the office all the same.” He added smoothly, “I like making good use of my time.” The barb hit home. He could see that it did with the way Mairi’s face whitened, but he wasn’t pleased it had.
Was being underpaid for hours of copywriting a good use of her time? Someone like Damen Leventis probably wouldn’t think so. He would think she was being an idiot to enslave herself like this. But what else was there for her to do?
