“Because I’m your wife?”
His response is interrupted by the flight attendant showing up with our bottle of champagne. She pops the cork and moves to pour us a glass, purposefully leaning forward. One peek at her cleavage pushes me into action.
I interrupt her. “I got it.”
Her face reddens as she places the bottle on the table and leaves.
“Jealousy looks good on you.”
“Oh, shut up.” I fill the glasses and swipe one for myself.
Declan rewards my brazenness with a deep chuckle so low, I can barely hear it over the hum of the plane’s engines.
I smile in return as I lift my flute in the air toward Declan. “To the vacation I desperately needed.”
He begrudgingly grabs the other. “And the honeymoon I never wanted.”
I tap my flute against his. “Cheers!”
It takes me two whole days to recover from a severe case of jet lag. By the third morning, I am feeling better than ever. My head brushes against my silk pillowcase as I turn on my side and stare out my panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bush. The moon glistens off the surface of our private pool, and I’m tempted to dive in to wake myself up.
I stretch my legs before doing a celebratory wiggle in bed. I haven’t had a vacation since before I started working for Declan, so the idea of spending ten days off the grid has me wanting to dance my way through my morning routine.
The sound of my alarm breaks the silence. If I wasn’t used to waking up early for work, the 5 a.m. schedule here would have sucked big time. I’m quick with getting ready given my limited choices of safari-appropriate clothing.
By the time I make it to our living room, I expect Declan to be annoyed that I’m ten minutes late. Except Declan isn’t here. I spin around in a circle before making my way through our private villa. His room is located on the opposite side of the place, giving him an equally beautiful view of our pool outside.
A muffled noise comes through the bottom of his bedroom door. I turn the knob and push his door open, finding Declan bent over a desk, looking fresh as a daisy in a three-piece suit. I try my best to ignore the way his ass sticks out, but my eyes linger on his form-fitting pants because I’m not blind.
Although the little jolt in my heart concerns me enough to avert my gaze back to his face.
I frown at his attire. “You can’t go out like that. The lions will eat you alive.”
He ignores me as he scribbles something down on a notepad.
I check the time on my phone. “We’re supposed to meet with the ranger in five minu—”
“Sorry, Mr. Kane, what was that?” a woman’s voice cuts me off.
He glares at me as he holds a finger to his mouth.
“Just my assistant checking in on me. Carry on, Ms. Tanaka.”
Tanaka. Of course Declan would answer a call from Mr. Yakura’s assistant. She and her VIP boss are one of the few people who have direct access to Declan’s personal line.
Ms. Tanaka spouts something off in Japanese and Declan responds without missing a beat. Watching him shift between languages always impresses me. Whether it is Spanish, Portuguese, Mandarin, or Japanese, the way the words roll easily off Declan’s tongue is something to be admired.
I’ve tried to pick up on a few words here and there while listening in on his conversations, but I never had a knack for any kind of words—let alone foreign ones.
While Declan speaks to Ms. Tanaka, I enter his closet and start unloading his luggage. I make quick work of the job since I was the one who packed everything anyway. The suit was a surprise, and I’m somewhat peeved Declan thought to pack it in the first place. We were supposed to be on the same page about all this, including no work.
Because really, what is the point of going through this entire sham of a honeymoon if he is going to work the entire time. That doesn’t scream happily in love.
Ms. Tanaka finally ends the call, and I exit his closet with a safari-approved outfit. “Here. Change into this.”
“We’re not going.”
I blink at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
His eyes shift from my face to my trembling arm holding onto his clothes with an iron grip. “Mr. Yakura wants to meet in a few hours to discuss the latest proposal.”
“You’re joking.”
“No. The man is impossible. I’m close to abandoning the land and sending the scouts out to find me a new location.”
“But—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “I refuse to give up when I’m this close to securing the deal, especially after I promised the board I would follow through on delivering Dreamland Tokyo.” He paces the width of his room.
His large body makes me feel as if the walls are closing in around me.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I’m understanding you.”
“He finally gave me some concrete feedback about my proposal and would like to meet to discuss it further—”
“I’m not talking about the proposal!” I throw his clothes on the bed, wishing I could chuck them at his face instead.
Declan’s brows pull together. “You’re upset.”
“No, Declan. I’m disappointed.”
“You of all people should understand how important this is to me.”
I throw my arms in the air. “That’s exactly my problem. I understand your needs even at the expense of my own.”
I instantly want to take back the words, if only to erase the scary expression on Declan’s face.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve spent three years of my life making sure you’re taken care of, even if it meant sacrificing my happiness to do so,” I blurt out.
So much for keeping yourself in check.
His lips flatten, turning the pink color white from the pressure of his grimace.
Abort mission. “Never mind—”
“Is that how you really feel?” he cuts me off.
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 became Mr. 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.