I’d gone in search of him and eventually found him in his office. When I’d entered the room and found myself the focus of that vacant stare, I’d remembered the date. Rather than ask if he was okay—I’d learned from past experience that it was best not to draw attention to the change in him—I’d asked if he was coming down for breakfast.
“I’ve already eaten,” he’d said, his tone flat. “I’ll meet you in the foyer when Sam arrives.” And then he’d turned back to his computer, dismissing me.
Deciding to give him whatever emotional space he seemed to need, I’d left the office and eaten breakfast alone.
He’d barely spoken a word during the drive to o-Verve. Had barely even looked at me, actually. Although there’d been mere inches between us on the leather seat, I might as well have been looking at him through plate glass. It was like he’d erected four huge walls around himself. No one was getting through them, and they’d be a fool to try.
It shouldn’t have been possible to calmly snap at someone, but he’d done it several times this morning; one employee had actually teared up as they walked away. Dane had a way of making you feel an inch tall, and he could do it with only a few words.
He’d been terse and abrupt toward me, but I’d so far managed to avoid being barked at. I’d probably feel the sharp edge of his tongue eventually.
When lunch time had arrived, he’d declared that he was heading to his office and didn’t want to be disturbed. So I’d eaten alone at my desk, like I had many times in the past before we became a fake couple.
It was the first time in a while that I’d actually felt like I was purely his PA. It was a reminder that, in fact, I wasn’t more than that to him. A reminder that we weren’t in a real relationship.
After our lunch hour was over, we’d headed straight for the meeting with the development team … bringing us to the present moment. Which wasn’t going well.
At one point, when one of the guys was verbally fumbling his way through an explanation, Dane raised his hand. The guy immediately quieted, and a boom of silence hit the room.
Dane’s eyes took in the whole team as he spoke. “You’ve had four weeks—four—to generate some fresh ideas. And this is the best you’ve come up with?”
I winced. Okay, so I could admit that the team could have done better, but the scorn dripping from his voice was unnecessary. By the time he’d finished verbally slapping them down, I was surprised they still had the will left to live.
When he returned to his office, he slammed the door shut behind him. If it was any other day of the year, I’d have followed him inside and told him that the asshole-behavior needed to stop. Not that he’d have apologized or admitted to being at fault. But I’d have called him on his shit anyway.
This wasn’t a simple case of him being a prick, though. Something was fucking with his head. Something big. And that same “something” continued to bother him throughout the rest of the workday.
He was just as quiet on the journey home as he had been on the way to o-Verve that morning. At least he hadn’t snapped at me. Yet.
No sooner had we stepped into the house than he disappeared upstairs without a word. All right then.
I spent a little time reading in the library before heading to the kitchen to make dinner. I sent him a quick text to let him know I was making spaghetti, just in case he was hungry.
He didn’t respond to the message. He also didn’t come downstairs to eat.
After dinner, I went to my room and caught up on some work. I then watched the new episode of a series I was somewhat addicted to. When 10 p.m. came crawling around and there was still no sign of Dane, I decided to check on him. I wouldn’t be able to sleep unless I knew he was at least relatively okay.
I tried calling him, but it went to voicemail. I frowned. It was exceedingly rare that Dane didn’t answer his phone. It was like an extension of his freaking hand.
I went to his office, expecting to find him sitting in the dark with only the glow of his computer screen to light the room, but