[Day 2, 10:47 A.M]

David's POV || Tu l'as Encore Oubliè?

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Sometimes I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. I mean, it always makes me to turn on and sometimes off when it comes from viewing Smith Wilson, the arrogant, cocky, mischievous and more importantly, an unpredictable guy in the universe.

I sighed as I clutched my bag that was a Christmas gift from my grandma. Inside of it, I already put the stuffs that assistants always bring when it comes to accompanying their boss. Come to think of it, does Smith thought of me just being his personal assistant--well, I'd like to think of it that way but why a part of me telling it doesn't feel right?

Eh, maybe this is a cause of a homesick now.

I looked once again at Smith who's driving his high-class car along the empty road. Suddenly I frowned, not liking the feeling in my guts when I am viewing his side profile. That sharp and stubble jaw made him a bit more professional, his hair strikingly a hot mess and those damn light blue eyes that made me to slap myself for staring too much.

Nope. There's no way I will fall in love with this man. Even if I do, I prefer an approachable one.

His phone's ringtone broke my gaze at him, while trying to figure out how to hide these growing crimson in my cheeks once I completely turned away. He started to spoke the opposite line.

"Bonjour? C'est le fils de Wilson qui parle. Qui est-ce?" My husband blast off with a deep voice, making me flinch.

"Oh, ravi de vous appeler Mr. Denison . . . Oui, la cargaison promise sera envoyée en Allemagne cette semaine, demain pour être exacte."

Once my 'known' blush is fading slowly as it should be, I can't help but to eavesdrop at their conversation and wonder at the language they are using. Perhaps German? Italian? Filipino or French?

Anyways, I have to admit that I'm quite impressed that Smith be able to drive and call someone with different language at the same time. Now it starts kicking in to me, did my parents really or coincidentally borrowed a money to a high-talented person?

"Excuse moi un peu." Smith shortly excused himself away from the phone as I can translate the first word before he suddenly looked at me, whispering. "Hand me the notepad and the pen."

"O-okay." I rummaged inside my bag as I dug my hands to grope the things he need. I successfully pulled out the pen and searched for the notepad.

"Hurry up!"

I nodded nervously at his impatient tone. Dug after dug after drug and I can't still find the freaking notepad. All I can touch is my phone, my stick notes that all page was probably doodled by me and nothing more.

Crap! I think I forgot it back home.

"Where is it now?" He couldn't hide the irritation because I am taking too long to hand him the notepad.

"Uhhh.... I... uhm... left it back home..." Great job David! Hello, this is between the talk of fame to fame and you're letting your side down for that goddamn notepad.

He cursed under his breath and backed on the phone. "Juste une seconde monsieur." Then he looked back at me, "Give me your arm."

"W-what?"

"I said give me your arm." He whispered-yelled. "I'm jotting down notes."

"O-okay."

For the first time, I felt the sturdiness of my husband's hands as he grabbed to make it steady for him to write notes in it instead. Actually, I am not lying about feeling his hands for the first time because again, we aren't a real couple. Holding hands at such, it never happened once we bowed and signed for a temporary marriage. To my relief, he didn't notice my tensed behaviour.

"Okay...okay.... euh monsieur. Y a-t-il quelque chose que vous voulez ajouter? Non? Super, attendez l'accord de livraison mardi."

I giggled as the tip was tickling my skin. I did it discreetly so I won't bother Smith from writing. I still can't get over his striking appearance and deep demanding voice so I have to make myself be distracted for awhile and this seems working.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

My husband left me in the waiting area near the company's exit door where there are many peoples, probably staffs, looking at me.

I looked under my wristwatch and the lunch time is coming. Smith texted that he wasn't still done at his meeting all because about the case of ten large cargo went missing yesterday. So he told me that I should go first to eat my lunch without him.

"Oh, it's the guy last night." When I was about to stand up from my chair, the same voice with the same lady from yesterday called me. "Where's your husband?"

"M-meeting..."

"Chill my boy. I am not against gay rights." She assured truthfully with a warm smile. Well actually, that's not I am worried about but having to hear that calmed me. "So, how many years are you two going about? And oh, before you answer let's have lunch together."

I can't say no once she maniacally started dragging me to the . . . restaurant? I have no idea that they even have their own restaurant here inside the company?!! As long other I company exist, this is the only building I discovered that was installed by a restaurant. Wow, high-class family always stays high-class.

Lucky me? Nah, I'll put that aside.

"So, what's your answer to my question earlier? Emily's my name by the way." She intrigued happily while I frowned. Should I tell her the truth? Me and Smith's marriage is nothing big to be showed. One thing, I didn't read the whole agreement paper if it's possible to tell about our fake marriage.

"So?"

"T-thre-thrree years from now on." I stuttered, not making sure if I sounded a liar.

She nodded and called one of the formal dressed waiter at our table. "Can I have two egg-boiled with shrimps and coke? Thanks!"

"Is that all?" The waiter asked.

She nodded.

"Be back for a while."

I watched as the waiter turned his heels back to the counter. Emily turned back her attention and asked again a question about the relationship between me and Smith. In the end, I know why she was interviewing me because her sister was once Smith's ex.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Translated French to English:

[1] "Hello? This is Wilson's son speaking. Who is this?"

[2] "Oh, nice to call you Mr. Denison... Yes, the promised cargo will be sent to Germany coming this week, tomorrow to be exact."

[3] "Excuse me for a second."

[4] "Okay ... okay .... uh sir. Is there anything you want to add? No? Great, wait for the delivery agreement on Tuesday."

[Title] 》You Forgot It Again?《