Chapter 28 Autopilot
Chapter 28 Autopilot
His work phone rang, and wouldn’t stop chiming.
“Pick it up, it must be very important,” I said, disappointed, backing away from his advances towards my naked body.
He didn't stick around; he went straight to the bathroom, like nothing happened, like he wasn't driving my whole body crazy.
Was he for real right now? My entire system went cold, I felt thrown off, might as well get an ice bucket and pour it over my head
Cillian came out of the bathroom fully dressed, and a pang of shame filled my lungs. I wanted to scream.
He left me hanging, and for what? A stupid phone call?
“Who was calling?” I asked as I picked up my clothes from my bed
“Mr. Fujitaka cancelled the party.” He broke the news to me.
My hopes went up, we could enjoy our dinner date and wine tasting tonight, without rushing to go to the party after.
“I’m going to change so we can still make it to the wine tasting and dinner date I booked; we could still go as planned, much better because we don't have a party to attend anyway.”
“We’re not going.” His hand shifted from my face to the pamphlet I was holding for the wine tasting.
I blinked at him, “I’m sorry, what? I thought the party was canceled?
“He wants to meet tomorrow for an open meeting with Baxter, to discuss which deal he would accept.” He explained.
“What? Seriously?” I shook my head.
“Yes, and I think we should hold an all-nighter to polish the latest proposal.”
“But what about dinner and wine—”
He didn't let me finish, “ I refuse to give up when I’m this close to getting that deal, especially when I told the board that I would follow through on this huge project.”
He paced the width of the room and made me feel that the walls were closing in on me.
“Cillian, I don’t understand.”
“He finally requested a meeting, Sloane, this opportunity—”
“I’m not talking about the damn proposal.” I threw my hands in the air, giving up.
“You’re upset.” Cillian tried to reach for me, but I moved away.
“No, I’m disappointed,” I whispered, accepting defeat.
“You all people should know and understand how important this is.” He said, toning down his voice.
I scraped my hair in frustration, “ That’s exactly my problem, Cillian, I would put your needs at the expense of my own.”
His face squinted, “What do you mean by that?”
“This is supposed to be our honeymoon!” I blurted out.
“Sloane—”
“For five years I have worked for you, I spent my days making sure you get what you need, all I’m asking is for you to notice me, to look at me.”
I instantly wanted to take back my words to erase the scary expression on his face.
His lips flatten, turning white from the pressure of his grimace, “You're unhappy that you don’t get to enjoy your fake honeymoon?” He uttered.
I released a buff of disbelief, bitterness wrapped into my words.
“No, I’m here to look after you, and by the way, thank you for reminding me that it was a fake honeymoon.”
His foul attitude threw me off. We were supposed to be on the same page about all this, including no work.
What was the point of going through this entire sham of a honeymoon if he is going to work the whole time? The idea didn't scream happily in love.
Or happily married.
“Is that really how you feel? He muttered, “Why?
“We wanted to impress Mr. Fujitaka, you're a family man. A man who puts his family first, and I tell you no one is impressed, not even me, of course, what I feel doesn't matter, I’m your fake wife.”
The skin around his eyes tightened. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone chimed again, and I stood up.
Even if I waited, he wouldn't stop me from leaving the room. He wouldn't deal with your shitty mood right now when he had more important things he needed to handle.
And I was not that important.
Cillian sent me an email, requesting a PowerPoint in case Mr. Fujitaka wants a presentation tomorrow.”
I talked to him via email now, even though he was just inches from me, staying in the same room, and the only PowerPoint in my head right now was wrapping my hand around my husband’s neck and stopping his air flow.
He was so insensitive, unfeeling, and self-centered. It took me one hour to work on that presentation.
After I finished the slideshow, I sent him a message sarcastically asking if he needed anything else from me. I should have expected it would backfire.
Cillian gave me task after task my way, each more irritating than the last.
Check in with our Indian sponsors to make sure they are still interested.
Contact the head of accounting and finance and have him send me an estimated expense report.
Schedule me a last-minute meeting with Conrad before the meeting tomorrow.
The more demands he placed, the stronger my anger became. I was supposed to have ten days of vacation time.
After being denied five years’ worth of paid time off, I wanted my break from all his demands and cold stares.
My head dropped onto the table, and an annoyed groan escaped me.
I spent thousands of years taking care of the man who couldn't even put my needs first, who refused to list me down as one of his priorities.
Nothing would change unless I did.
Another email reached my inbox, I clicked the message from my laptop, and opened it.
“I’m calling room service. Do you want anything?”
I ignored his message, I closed the tab, and pretended I hadn't read it.
My emotions were high; every hit on my keyboard sounded like I was declaring a silent war.
Another email came through, “Aren’t you hungry? Stop working already.”
I did the same thing, closed the tab, and ignored his email.
He let out a desperate growl, and I blocked his miserable face in my mind.
It was his idea to spend an all-nighter; he didn't have to get the best of my two worlds.
He didn't get to have me as his wife and his executive assistant all at the same time.