Mission Love

Seventeen

Recap: He knows!

After connecting all the dots, I got into a conclusion—Ryan hadn’t just called me for no reason. He wanted me to spill the beans.

But the real question was, why?

I figured that maybe, he didn't knew all the details, so now he was trying to get more information out of me.

Well, better luck never.

"What?" I scowled, trying to act surprised—or at least unaffected—but my voice came out embarrassingly hoarse, like I'd swallowed sandpaper.

Ryan chuckled, lowly, that ignited a desire in me — to throw something at his beautiful face.

"Is there any problem... that I should know about?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, with a glint of amusement playing across his face.

I took a sharp breath, before giving him a thin smile.

"If you don’t know, then maybe it’s supposed to stay that way. It’s not like you can solve everything—"

"I can." He cut me off, eyes practically twinkling with confidence, as a light breeze tousled his hair.
"If you'd just try me."

Where the hell did that breeze come from?

"Thanks, but I’ve got it handled," I muttered, smiling tightly.

"As you wish. But don't look at me when you get anxious in front of the client," He leaned back holding that annoying smirk.

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. But then it clicked — he almost had me. I was right! This was just another one of his little games, fishing for the truth.
He doesn't know — at least not the whole details.

"Is that why you called me?" I grumbled as I gestured at the ice pack that was now just a puddle of cold water in my hand.

"Of course not," Ryan began, smooth and calm.
"I just thought it might be better if you took the day off. You know… considering the bruises."

As soon as the words left his mouth, my jaw dropped, and I just stared at him blankly.
Was this some kind of feverish dream?

Mr. Ryan—the workaholic boss—was actually telling me to go home?

I couldn’t believe it.

"Oh, and…" He turned back to his desk, retrieving a paper. With a swift, almost dismissive flick of his wrist, he handed me the one single page.
"Add this to the file. That’s all."

He flashed me a perfectly straight smile, and went back to his work like nothing had happened.

Seriously?

I stared at the paper, biting back the groan building in my throat. He’d dangled a moment of empathy in front of me, only to reel it back like it was some kind of twisted prank.

Why does he always have to find a way to push me right to the edge?

Ugh!

As long as I can remember I've never held grudges. I don’t keep score or collect emotional receipts. People make mistakes, sometimes apologise, and that's usually the end of it.

No use in dragging things out.

But with Ryan.

I've made a very long, detailed list of reasons I can't stand him so that I won't forget how much I hate him.