Summertime Smiles.

7.

Next morning ~

Alaya sat down on the opposite end of the dining table, trying to make herself as small as possible. Nathan didn't acknowledge her presence, his gaze fixed on the food as the storm raged on outside.

"The storm is still on. I've given a leave to all the employees today. As soon as the storm ends, I'll drop you back home." He said out of nowhere.

Alaya looked up at him and he wasn't looking at her all. He spoke all that while looking at his iPad only.

"Ah..ok." she replied.

"Thanks again. Sir." She said.

He wanted to correct her but he persisted. It's none of his buisness, whatever she calls him, as long as she's respectful, it's enough.

The silence between them was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of thunder and the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the dark sky. Alaya's eyes darted towards Nathan, trying to read his expression, but his face was a mask.

After finishing his food, he looked up at her.

"I'm going to the living room. If you want, you can join me?" He offered more like asked her.

She nodded as she had nothing else to do.

As the hours ticked by, Alaya's eyelids began to droop, her exhaustion catching up with her. She tried to fight it, but eventually, her head nodded forward, and she fell asleep.

Nathan noticed her slumped posture and felt a pang of...something. He couldn't quite identify the emotion, but it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He turned off the TV and stood up, his eyes fixed on Alaya's peaceful face.

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, he seemed to shake himself out of it, his mask slipping back into place.

He walked over to Alaya and gently shook her shoulder. "Hey, wake up," he said gruffly. "You can't sleep here."

Alaya stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at Nathan, disoriented, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Nathan's expression was unreadable, but Alaya thought she saw a flicker of...something...in his eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice husky from sleep.

"It's late," Nathan replied, his voice curt. "The storm has passed. I'll drive you home."

Alaya nodded, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. As she stood up, Nathan's eyes lingered on her, his expression inscrutable. Alaya felt a shiver run down her spine, unsure of what to make of Nathan's behavior.

As they walked out of the house, the cool night air enveloped them, and Alaya felt a sense of relief wash over her. She was going home, away from Nathan's oppressive presence.

But as they drove through the deserted streets, Alaya couldn't shake off the feeling that Nathan's behavior was a facade, that there was something more beneath the surface. And she wondered, with a sense of trepidation, what would happen if that facade cracked.

He, on the other hand, felt different having a woman sitting on his passenger seat.

He was angry at himself for allowing her to do everything he once stopped others to do. He never once allowed a woman, even his assistant to sit with him, neither did he allow them in his home, nor did he ever give his clothes to any woman before.

Chapter 7: The brat and the champanzee; a delicate dance.

"Are your arms good now?" He asked out of nowhere.