Page 53 of The Betrayer
“All right. I’ll keep that in mind.” I was still chuckling. “Dinner on Monday, Dad. You need to be there and be on your best behavior.”
“I already said I would be.” My father’s tone of voice was definitely peevish.
“Okay, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
I disconnected and slipped my phone into my pocket as Angela approached me. Her robe was loose at the chest, giving me a view of cleavage.
“Your dad?” she asked, tracing the line of the buttons down my shirt with a finger.
“Yeah. Telling him about the business dinner on Monday.”
“What do you want me to wear?” There was a twinkle in Angela’s eye, but I ignored it. I still had to pack, and I was still hungry.
I pulled away from her, shifting her to the side as I headed into the kitchen. I could see the containers of food on the counter, and my stomach growled.
“What did you get?”
Angela shrugged. “Stuff from that place down the street you like.”
She had been here for the past week, enough time for the two of us to settle into a routine. But I didn’t think this had been the vacation Angela had been looking for. I’d spent most of it working, and she’d wandered around, mainly staying in the apartment, even when I told her she could use my driver to explore.
As we unpacked the food in relative quiet, I wasn’t sure why Angela had come to begin with. It wasn’t like I was going to be gone for weeks on end. More than that, she had known I was on an important business trip before she had hopped on a plane here. Had she somehow gotten the idea we could spend a romantic week together in between everything? Angela, of all people, should have known that would be an impossibility. She knew what my work entailed, or at least how many hours. And a buyout?
She’d said something about being romantic. Angela was possibly the least romantic person I’d ever known, myself included. It was part of the reason we worked so well—neither of us had time for the frilly aspects of a relationship. I never had to worry about spending time on empty romantic gestures with Angela, a trait I already appreciated.
Angela was too pragmatic for romance, which was why her grand gesture, flying all the way to China to see me, made little sense.
We ate in mostly silence. I could tell Angela was reading something on her phone, though I couldn’t tell what. Was she angry with me that things hadn’t turned out how she had wanted? Again, what had she expected? This wasn’t a vacation to Tahiti.
“What time does your plane leave?”
“Ten,” Angela answered, her gaze still on her phone screen.
“I know you’ll have to wait several hours, but why don’t we both take the car service?”
Her gaze finally flicked up toward me. “Sure.” Then she returned to her phone screen.
I almost asked Angela if she was upset with me, but something held me back. I wasn’t sure what kept me quiet—was it a lack of interest in the subject? A need to avoid conflict? Some unknown hesitancy on my part?
Whatever it was, it kept me quiet through the rest of dinner and beyond.
As we worked in silence to pack, our suitcases side by side on the bed, I wondered yet again what Angela had hoped to accomplish by flying all the way out here.
Not for the first time, I wondered if our relationship was what either of us wanted. Was Angela the one I wanted to have a future with? I enjoyed what we had, but I still didn’t know whether I could picture the future.
Not only that, but something didn’t feel right. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but none of Angela’s recent actions made any sense. Something just didn’t feel right.
