I got the feeling he’d never watched over someone who was sick before. He could have asked another person to stay with me. He could even have hired someone to do it. But he hadn’t. I wished he had, though, because he just kept sneaking deeper beneath my defenses with every sweet thing he did.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. “You don’t feel sick again, do you?” He actually felt my forehead to check my temperature.
I had to fight a smile. Yeah, my defenses stood no chance against this side of him. “I’m fine, Nurse Nancy. Thank you for taking care of me, by the way.”
He shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “It was a one-off. If you’re ever ill again, you’re on your own.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.
I’d seen Dane like this before. Four other times, in fact. And always on November 1st each year.
He was colder than usual. Harder. Apathetic. So incredibly distant that his gaze seemed to skim over people, like he’d dissociated from everyone around him—it was hard to explain.
The others in the room had noticed, despite him barely saying a word. The latter wasn’t unusual when he met with the development team; he often allowed them to do the talking. He mostly listened, offered input where necessary, and let the team members work through their ideas. But this afternoon, they were too distracted by his icy demeanor to be productive. That wasn’t good at all, because he had far less tolerance with indecisiveness and ineptitude when in this state of mind.
A few of them glanced at me for guidance. I just waved my hand, encouraging them to continue. The absolute worst thing they could do would be to ask him if he was all right. He’d bite their fucking head off. He wouldn’t yell or rave, but he’d speak in that low voice that dripped with frost and could lash you like a whip.
It didn’t take a genius to work out that this particular date was somehow significant to him, so I was usually prepared for the change. But this year, I hadn’t seen it coming. We’d had such a blast yesterday at the Halloween festival. Well, I had a blast. He’d behaved much as he had at the zoo and the museum—he’d enjoyed himself in his own way. So the abrupt change in him earlier today had come as a shock.
He hadn’t been there when I woke, which was rare. I’d wondered if he was in the kitchen making breakfast for us or something, so I’d quickly gotten ready for work and headed downstairs … only to discover that he was nowhere to be seen.
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.