Page 20 of The Unplanned Wedding

“Can’t have my employees starving.” He disconnects.

I place the phone down slowly, then take my seat. I wrap up everything else on my to-do list, stopping to eat in between. The Chinese food he had delivered is from a well-known restaurant and tastes really good. It’s also light enough that, despite my tiredness, it doesn’t weigh heavily in mystomach. In fact, it revives me enough to keep going for a few more hours.I should leave.Things can wait until tomorrow, but I want to impress him with my diligence.If I work hard, surely, he’ll notice and appreciate my efforts again? I’ll do anything for a few more words of praise from his mouth.

At eight p.m., I stretch, then switch off my computer. I gather my things and cast a glance in the direction of the closed door of his office. I take a step in that direction, then stop.

No, he hasn’t eaten yet. In fact, he didn’t even ask me to get him lunch, and when I emailed him to ask, he didn’t reply. Yes, he’s been at work since very early; but really, that’s none of my business. His family owns the company, so he’s putting in the hours to build his own legacy. Besides, he’s a grown man. He can take care of himself. I turn and walk away, then find I can’t leave thinking of him working on an empty stomach. When he ordered the Chinese takeaway for me, he hadn’t ordered any for himself. Seriously the man needs a keeper.

I sigh, head back to his door and pull it open. The office is in darkness, except for the lamp on his desk. He’s working on his computer and doesn’t look up when I head inside.

“Can I order you dinner before I leave?”

No answer.

“I can’t have my boss starving.”

Maybe it’s the fact that I’m using his words back on him, that makes him lift his head. “Goodbye.” That’s all he says before he focuses his attention back on his screen.

Fine, whatever. I tried. I pivot and turn to leave, and I swear, I can feel his gaze follow me. But that must be my imagination.

I reach the door when he calls out, “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. And yes, you can order me dinner.”

So, he was tracking my progress to the door?I turn, but he’s back to looking at his computer. So maybe not. But the fact that he answered me... I take that as a positive sign.

The next two weeks, he’s away for business. An around-the-world trip that has him hopping from London to LA, then onto Buenos Aires, then Singaporeand Mumbai. He never misses any of his video conferences or agreements which need his signatures. Perks of having his own private aircraft, I suppose. The number of times zones this man has crossed is enough to give me a headache.

During this time, I get to know his team thoroughly, especially since he has me pass his directives to them and prefers me to answer their questions and pass on to him the ones I need help with. He insists that all communication to him be streamlined through me, and while I’m hesitant at first, I grow into my role. Surprisingly, his remaining department leads turn out to be good people who are focused on getting the job done and making his and their lives easier by working as a team. In addition to getting to know the department heads better, I also become familiar with the people reporting to them. And I come to the dawning realization that I can make a difference by helping to communicate my boss’ thinking in more detail to them.

I’m privy to the workings of his mind and I realize, he doesn’t have the patience to break down his strategies for his team. As a result, many of them feel lost or left behind when it comes to the implementation of his plans. I spend time breaking down my boss’ ideas to his team. It results in them better understanding his intentions and appreciating the big picture which, so far, only my boss has envisioned.

It makes me feel good to do this. I feel needed. I’m bridging the communication gap between my boss and his management team. I’m making a real difference to the future of my boss’ company, and I feel so happy about it.

Not that I can share this with my boss because, for the entire time he’s gone, there’s not one personal message from him. Nothing except official emails. Our communication has been strictly professional. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, hedidemphasize there’d be nothing personal between us. And now that his handprint on my arse has faded, I confess, it’s becoming difficult to remember that day.

Then, it’s the day of the royal reception. When I wake up, there’s a car waiting to collect me from my place to the office.So, my boss was thinking about me, after all?My chest squeezes with happiness.

He realized how difficult it would be for me to transport the clothes he sent me on the Tube. So, he made things easier for me. Despite the fact I’llbe beholden to him again, I suck up my pride and use the car. Mainly because it makes me feel special that he arranged it for me. It also makes me realize he didn’t completely forget about me while he was gone.

You wouldn’t know it from how he barely acknowledges me when I bring him his morning coffee. Yes, he’s back. And the anticipation building inside me had, perhaps, as much to do with counting down the days to his return, as it did the chance to attend this event.

The day passes with the usual rounds of meetings—with the advertising agency, then the PR agency, then the technical team, followed by a sales forecast meeting, where the numbers make my brain hurt. My boss seems energized in the meeting. Clearly, he thrives on numbers. Given the choice, he’d eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He shows no sign of letting up, and when five p.m. rolls around, I’m beat. I stretch and yawn.

I need to start getting dressed if we're going to leave by six p.m. for the royal reception.

I rise to my feet and grab the garment box I placed under the desk. I sense someone approaching and when I look up, it’s to find a woman wearing white scrubs headed my way. She has a kind face and streaks of grey at her temple.

"Ms. June Donnelly?”

"Yes?" I frown.

"This way, please; your team is waiting."

"My team?"

"Your glam team, so we can get you ready for this evening."

"Glam team?" I scoff. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

The phone on my desk rings. I balance the garment box on the desk and pick up the phone, more out of habit than anything else.

---