The Collector | 18+

【34】Hard Day of Work

The following day was Saturday, but that didn't really matter. Things were already taking too long as it was, so I wouldn't make it worse by allowing myself to have a break during the weekend.

It seemed Ulrik wasn't one to stop working either, as he came into the kitchen in a full suit, ready for another long day of conference calls and being a remote CEO. This serious businessman thing was getting to me hard. I enjoyed watching him sip his coffee in the morning while his intense eyes were focused on some article on his tablet. It was a big difference from the fuckboys I'd known before. And the fact that his clothes were fitted to perfection made him ridiculously alluring. Even fully dressed as he was, I could guess at his broad shoulders, the muscular swells of his pecs, the narrowing of his waist... If I were an artist, I'd want to immortalize him this way, so remarkably himself.

As usual, he disappeared into his office once we were done, and I descended the stairs to the gallery. Upon entering the reserve, I was reminded of my utter failure at keeping up. By the time I'd have to catch my plane on Tuesday, three days from now, I'd have gone over a third of his collection—if not less, given the scrolls, manuscripts, and codex I hadn't started with yet.

I'd need an extension, and I wasn't too happy about that. Ian didn't mind if I stayed a little longer, and it was my understanding that Mullins wouldn't care either. I would have to speak about it with Ulrik, though, to make sure it was fine by him. Maybe if it became too much for him, I could find myself another place to stay, so he'd regain his beloved tranquility. It wouldn't be a bad thing for us to stay out of each other's personal space.

To make up for the fact that I'd probably have to extend my stay, I worked hard the entire morning. I photographed, filed, and organized an entire shelving unit. My ankle was still a little sore, so I made sure not to overwork it. It would be tender for a few more days, so no jogging in the woods for a while.

I was very proud of myself when the lunch bell chimed. If I could keep up this pace, I'd only need one extra week of work, instead of three. That was good news, and it alleviated some of the pressure resting on my shoulders.

Ulrik was abnormally silent during lunch, visibly preoccupied. I might have taken it personally and think it was because of me, but given how he checked on his phone several times per minute, I deduced it was an outside inconvenience. Nothing to do about me and what had happened to us the day before.

He was just done eating when his phone buzzed on the table. I vaguely saw that it was an email, which he read with frowned brows and a bothered look. "Apologies, but I need to get back to work. As always, it was delicious, Yuko."

With his phone in hand and a scowl on his handsome face, he left with haste. I watched until he disappeared at the turn to his office, and turned back to Yuko. "That looked like bad news," I told her with a grimace.

With a gesture of her hand, she dismissed it, indicating this wasn't a rare occurrence. "He get three bad news every month. He will be fine."

A smile stretched my lips at her detachment. She must have seen it all in her days of serving him. As always, I helped her with clearing the table, and since I was quick enough this time around, I got to do the dishes instead of her.

Ever since I'd arrived, I'd done my best to keep my stuff tidy to not give her an excuse to do more work. My bedroom was immaculate, and I spent five minutes every morning making my bed perfectly. It was amusing to think she probably thought me to be a very neat person, when I was kind of a slob—my bedroom at home had never been as immaculate as this one.

I was finishing up with the pot when a phone rang on the other side of the kitchen. She went to pick it up, and I tried to follow what was going on. Since she used his name, I understood she was talking with Jakob, and it seemed he was canceling something. Yuko seemed upset when she hung up, and I went to her, drying my hands.