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“Would you like to switch positions? You handle the big stuff and I’ll take care of construction budgets and charming the contractors?” Oliver suggested, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Fuck you, Oliver. Don’t patronize me. I don’t charm the contractors. I speak to them like they’re people,” I snapped, my temper flaring.
“And I don’t?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing.
“Are you itching for a fight?” I challenged, standing my ground.
“I just want you to realize you need to toughen up. I don’t like it when you question my motives,” he said, his voice tense.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t like it when anyone questions you, period. Do me a favor, go back to your office and give me some space,” I said, my voice steady but firm.
Oliver stared at me, his sapphire eyes boring a hole through me. I didn’t break his gaze, and he was the first to turn away as he rose from the couch.
“I’ll talk to you when it’s time to go home.”
“Good. Three hours should be enough time for me to cool down.”
Oliver didn’t look back as he left my office. I put down the report I was going through and sagged against the back of my chair. Lately, we’d been having little arguments and I decided to chalk it up to our impending nuptials. Maybe a weekend away would get us back on track.
Chapter 4
The tension was palpable as Vlad held the limo door open for us on Friday afternoon. Oliver slid in first, his jaw clenched, while I hesitated for a moment before following. The plush leather seat felt cold beneath me, mirroring the chill that had settled between us since Wednesday evening.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, I found myself recalling the past two days with painful clarity. Oliver, retreating to his office with a hastily made sandwich. Me, seeking solace in a long bath, my appetite dulled by the weight of our unspoken words. Two nights of restless sleep, the bed between us a vast, empty chasm.
I glanced at Oliver; his profile etched against the tinted window. His fingers flew across his laptop keyboard, the rapid-fire clicks a stark counterpoint to the suffocating silence.
Unable to bear it any longer, I reached for my earbuds, fumbling with my phone to queue up a playlist. The familiar opening chords of a classic rock song filled my ears, drowning out the sound of Oliver's typing and my own tumultuous thoughts.
I don't know how long I sat there, eyes closed, head tipped back against the seat. When I finally opened them, I found Oliver's intense gaze fixed on me. The raw emotion in his eyes made my breath catch, and I quickly looked away.
"Ryleigh," he said, his voice so soft I almost missed it over the music.
I pulled out an earbud, eyeing him warily. "What?"
Oliver's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Can we talk?" The gentleness in his tone caught me off guard.
A humorless laugh escaped me. "Now you want to talk? After two days of the silent treatment?" I shook my head, blinking back tears. "I don't even know why we're going to Southampton, Oliver. What do you expect to happen?"
He placed his laptop on the seat and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I expect us to come together," he said, his eyes pleading.
"How?" I challenged, my voice cracking. "You shut down every time I try to discuss what happened."
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, mussing the usually perfect strands. "I know. I just... you challenge me, Ryleigh. It throws me off balance."
"Isn't that a good thing?" I countered, frustration coloring my words. "Or would you rather I just nod and smile like one of your employees?"
He flinched at that. "No, of course not. You're my fiancée, not my employee. Sometimes I forget the line between work and us is... blurred."
I sighed, feeling a glimmer of understanding. "That's exactly the problem, Oliver. We can't pretend work doesn't affect our personal life. We need to find a way to navigate both."
He was quiet for a moment, then he patted the seat next to him. "Come here?" he asked softly.
Hesitantly, I slid across the smooth leather until our thighs touched. Oliver's hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle arc beneath my eye.
"I'm sorry," Oliver murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "I never meant to shut you out. I was... overwhelmed."
“Just talk to me next time, don’t shut me out. This won’t be the end of our arguments,” I replied, my voice tinged with frustration.
