(Blake’s POV)
“Samantha, what are these?” I shouted from my office.
Her stiletto shoes made a ‘clang’ sound as she walked towards my office. She raised her brows and pursed her lips. She stood beside me, wrinkling her nose. “Do you need a detailed explanation, Blake?” She did not wait for my answer. She continued talking. “Those are the oil canvas painting you asked from Tara. She had them delivered the other day, and in front of you are four paintings carefully wrapped in a breathable sheet before placing it in a bubble wrapper and then...”
“Samantha-” I growled at her. I know what I see. What I wanted to understand is why some delivery company, not her, delivered these paintings. Not seeing her for more than a week was torture for me. The time difference, the long meetings, and plant visits made it even difficult to call. I miss her so much. I called her yesterday as soon as I a
