It takes all my willpower to not break eye contact. “Yes.”
“Why?”
His question throws me off. Does he actually care about how I feel? He has never made it a point in the past to check in with me about my needs, and there have been plenty of opportunities. Like the Christmas I missed because he planned a business trip or the hundreds of plans I had to cancel last minute because of some Kane Company emergency.
Over the last three years, my life slowly disappeared until my identity becameMr. Kane’s assistant.
This is your chance to confess how unhappy you’ve become with your job.I open my mouth to speak my mind but something in his gaze stops me. The skin around his darkening eyes tightens.
His phone rings, cutting through the silence. The hand clutching onto it hesitates.
He doesn’t want to deal with your shitty mood right now when he has more important things he needs to handle.
I put on my best smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Forget it. I’m being extra grumpy from jet lag and waking up earlier than usual for our safari. It’s nothing a cup of coffee can’t fix.”
His phone stops chiming. “Listen—”
“It’s fine.”
“I didn’t expect—” The shrill ring interrupts whatever he was about to say.
“You better get that. Sounds important.” I nod my head and offer him a tense smile.
His mouth opens, but I don’t stick around. The last thing I hear before shutting his bedroom door behind me is his deep rumble of a voice barking an order at an innocent caller.
* * *
Declan, like the complete asshole boss he tends to be under most circumstances, sends me a recorded voice note requesting that I make a PowerPointjust in caseMr. Yakura wants a visual aid for his meeting.
The only visual aid I want is of my hands wrapped around Declan’s neck, stopping his airflow.
Okay. Turn it down about ten notches.
Once I rein my temper in, I get back to work. It takes me two hours to create a PowerPoint based on our combined messy notes. What would take a normal person an hour to compile takes me double because I have to triple-check each slide for errors. The last thing I want is for Declan to berate me for a silly typo or incorrect punctuation mark.
After I finish the slideshow, I send Declan a message sarcastically asking if he needed anything else from me. I should have expected it would backfire. Declan throws task after task my way, each more irritating than the last.
Check in with our Tokyo sponsors to make sure they are still interested.
Contact the head of marketing and have him send me an estimated expense report.
Schedule me a last-minute meeting with Rowan before Yakura jumps on the video call.
The more demands he places, the stronger my anger becomes. I’m supposed to have ten days of vacation time. After being denied three years’ worth of paid time off, I want my break.
Ineedit.
Maybe you want more than that.
My head drops into my hands as I let out a frustrated groan. While I appreciate my job and the many opportunities Declan has given me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this.
Better yet, I don’twantto do this.
I’m turning twenty-four this year and what do I have to say for myself? Most of my life revolves around Declan and making sure he has everything he needs to be successful. I even married the man so he achieves everything he dreamed of—all because I care about him way more than he could ever reciprocate. He gave me a chance when no one believed in me, and for that, I owe him.
My actions say more about me and less about him. I put my needs aside because I thought it would make me happy to help others. And while it feels great to see everyone else achieve their dreams, it leaves me with a gaping hole in my chest.
Nothing will change unless you do.