Page 95 of The Unplanned Wedding

"Gotta go, Zoey. I’ll catch you again soon." I disconnect the call, then turn to Mary. "What’s he been up to now?"

"He’s acting like a bear with a sore head. It just so happened, I wasfilling in for the assistant of one of the other Vice Presidents, so I was in the sales meeting. And—" She shakes her head. "The boy certainly is all uptight. You can’t tell he's just back from his honeymoon. Which is where I think he should still be, but what do I know?" She sniffs.

"Uh, you know how important work is for Knox."

"More than his marriage?" She shoots me a skeptical glance. "He had no business dragging you back so soon."

"Oh, no, I don’t mind. Really. I like feeling useful."

She scoffs. "You need to accept your new position, young lady and make use of the benefits which come with it."

Her words are remarkably similar to what Zoey mentioned. A part of me recognizes I’m putting off the inevitable, but that workaholic part of me can’t fathom what I’d do if I didn’t come in to work. "You said he’s in the meeting?"

"In the conference room. And you’d better get there before he fires the lot of them."

40

Knox

"Give me one reason why I should not fire the lot of you?" I widen my stance. A headache stabs behind my left eye, and I ignore it.

I didn’t sleep well last night, and it has nothing to do with my not sleeping in the same bed as my wife. No way, can I miss not having her next to me in my bed when it’s only one night that we spent together. And a few hours yesterday, where I listened to her soft breathing and even softer sighs, and the slide of sheets on her skin as she turned to face me.

We returned from Paris, and I buried myself in my home office without bothering to explain to her why I decided to return to London. Simply put, I’m confused about my feelings for her.

I needed to put distance between us, so I went straight into a meeting I’d scheduled on the flight back.

By the time I emerged from the meeting, she was asleep. In my bedroom, and in my bed. Seeing here there felt right.

It also intensified this feeling of panic gripping me.I cannot give upcontrol of my emotions. I cannot give up control of my life…And it feels like I did just that in acknowledging my feelings for her.

I didn't dare slip into bed with her. So instead, I pulled up a chair and watched her sleep. Then, when it felt like I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself from joining her, I marched back to my study and spent the rest of the night on the couch.

I made sure to come into the office early today, so I didn’t have to see her.

But I knew she was back at her desk because she emailed to let me know. Then, she proceeded to take care of work and update me on various ongoing projects. I didn’t reply to her. Didn’t email or call her, like the coward I am.

All the pent-up anger at myself came to a head when I sat in on a sales meeting and realized our quarterly projections were way off.Fuck.People are not doing their jobs. And given my personal life is in chaos, no way, am I allowing my professional life to go down the toilet as well. I glare at the team gathered around the conference room table.

All of them avert their eyes. One of them shuffles their feet. Someone coughs. I scowl at my Vice President of Sales. He’s sitting to my right. His eyes are ringed with dark circles. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hands through it. There’s a stain on his collar, something that looks like spittle.

I’ve been unable to take my gaze off of it since I started this meeting. Now, I train my glare on him. "Do you have any excuse for why we’re five percent below our projections for the last quarter?"

He shifts in his seat. "It's only five percent," he murmurs.

The way he responds infuriates me. This is not an insignificant amount. "It was an entire five percent." I scowl. "When we finalized the forecasts, did I or did I not tell you that if you didn’t hit it, it would be your job at risk?"

He draws in a sharp breath. "I tried my best. My team and I? We worked nights; we pounded the pavement; we called in favors with media planners. We have several deals in the cooker; just couldn't close them by month-end. But we will. We did everything possible to hit the numbers."

"Not nearly enough, apparently." I look over the faces of the other teammembers, most of which are pale. One of them looks like he’s about to cry. Another is clutching his stomach like he’s about to puke.

My instinct warns me I should cool down, take a step back, try to get perspective. It’s one of the things I was well known for when I was a Marine—the ability to be calm under pressure. To distance myself from a life and death situation so I could have an overhead view. It always helped me get in touch with my instinct and pick the best option.

Which is what I did when I married her.So, why am I unable to come to grips with the depth of my feelings for her? And why the hell am I taking out my anger on my unsuspecting team?

"You’re the leader of this group, so I hold you personally responsible for not hitting your goals."

The Vice President swallows. More color fades from his cheeks, but he looks resigned. "The buck stops with me." He rises to his feet and gathers his phone and tablet. "I’ll send you my resignation."

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