Please Let Me Go, My Contracted Ex-Husband.-Chapter 102 - - Vacation

"Get ready, you'll be going on a vacation in a few days!"

His voice came through the phone, calm and unhurried, but there was a slight hoarseness to it, sounding somewhat tired.

"Vacation?"

Cynthia's quick mind froze for a moment, holding the phone and muttering to herself, "What vacation?"

Monica, eager to explain, jumped in.

"Ah, come on, little Cynthia, of course it's you and my brother going on a sweet vacation together!"

She chuckled to herself. "Wow, after a year of marriage, my boss is finally making a move. About time! A vacation, huh? What a great opportunity to strengthen your bond!"

"Wait, really?"

Cynthia was startled. What was he thinking? Why would he want to take her on a vacation? Couldn't they just end up fighting non-stop, tearing each other apart?

"In a few days, once I finish up, I'll have someone notify you," he continued, ignoring her shock and simply issuing commands.

Cynthia, still stunned, quickly responded, "Sorry, I have classes to attend!"

He suddenly laughed.

"Cynthia, if you came up with another excuse, maybe I'd consider it. But you say you have classes? How often do you even go to school in a week? So, that excuse really doesn't work!"

Cynthia's face flushed between embarrassment and frustration. In her panic, she'd thrown out a random excuse, and now she realized how awkward it was. Her school attendance was practically nonexistent.

Seeing that she didn't respond, he hung up the phone without giving her a chance to argue. Cynthia stood there holding the phone, unsure of what to do next.

Monica seized the moment, trying to encourage her.

"Cynthia, I really think it'd be good for you to take a break. A lot's happened recently, and I can see you're feeling down. If you keep going like this, you'll end up with depression!"

Cynthia let out a bitter laugh. A vacation? How could she relax with him? She'd be lucky if her heart didn't get twisted into knots! But she knew deep down that his orders were non-negotiable. Even if she refused now, he'd find a way to get her there anyway, so it was probably easier to just accept it quietly.

Still, she didn't expect to wait for over a month. Initially, she wasn't excited about this mysterious vacation, and the fact that he hadn't contacted her suited her just fine. From what Monica said, BlackRock had some issues in Vietnam, and because he had grown up in the Golden Triangle and was familiar with the region, they needed him to handle things there.

It wasn't until early July that she finally received his call. His voice sounded distant, as if an entire century had passed between them.

"Pack your things. We're leaving for France tomorrow."

"Oh!"

Her response was lackluster, and she didn't try to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

He sounded exhausted, even his words were weary, "I'll be in France waiting for you. Before you leave, can you stop by my place and pick up a few clothes for me?"

She instantly protested, annoyed, "Hey, Albert Wilson, I'm not your maid! Why should I go pack your stuff?"

"You're my wife," he said lightly, his words slicing through her frustration. "If you won't do it, then who will?"

His simple remark felt like a blow, sending her spiraling into frustration.

Fuming, she hung up, but Jim was conveniently there, delivering the plane tickets for the next day. With no other option, she begrudgingly climbed into Jim's car, heading to his mansion to pack his clothes.

The massive, luxurious walk-in closet was filled with a staggering array of clothes, belts, ties, shoes, watches, and more. Everything was arranged meticulously, from casual styles to extravagant, limited-edition luxury brands. Cynthia was both dazzled and infuriated.

Did a man really need to dress so... flamboyantly every day? If he were a single bachelor, it might make sense, but wasn't he already involved with Lucca? There was no need for him to put so much effort into his appearance.

In frustration, she sifted through the dizzying array of clothing, selecting only casual, comfortable pieces. She had always found his cold, suit-and-tie demeanor off-putting. This time, in defiance of Wilson's usual style, she deliberately chose sporty, relaxed outfits.

The next day, Cynthia learned that her destination was Paris, known as the City of Romance, though her final stop would be a small town in southern France: Provence.

Provence, located along the southern coast, stretches from the Mediterranean to the rolling hills of the interior, with the Rhone River flowing through it. The region, with its dazzling sunshine, blue skies, captivating Mediterranean shores, and enchanting lavender fields, had always mesmerized visitors.

According to Jim, Albert Wilson would be waiting for her at the Paris airport, and after they met, they would transfer to Marseille before finally reaching their destination.

However, due to the rainy season, her flight was delayed by an hour. She struggled with the heavy luggage, her arms aching from dragging the oversized suitcase across the airport. If it weren't for carrying his things, she wouldn't have had to endure this extra burden.

When she finally emerged from the terminal, there he was, standing alone at the exit. His towering presence was hard to miss, the air of aloofness surrounding him. He wore stylish, dark-tinted sunglasses that added an air of mystery to his look, paired with a tailored silver-gray suit that oozed sophistication and wealth. Although there was a slight weariness in his expression, it didn't detract from the commanding elegance he exuded.

As soon as she stepped out, he moved swiftly to take her luggage, pulling her into an embrace so natural that it seemed as if they were a couple deeply in love, rather than strangers who hadn't seen each other for a month or two.

She gently struggled, but his hold only tightened, and this man seemed to draw the attention of everyone around him wherever he went. Couldn't he just be a little more discreet? Being low-key was important, right?

Already, his presence drew the gazes of passersby, but now, with him affectionately holding onto a graceful Chinese woman, their eyes shifted from him to her. Luckily, she had prepared in advance, wearing oversized sunglasses that covered most of her face to hide her true identity.

Due to the rain, the flight they were supposed to take was delayed by an hour. Seeing the notice almost made her faint—how would she survive that hour?

Albert seemed unbothered, calmly sitting down with her, his arms still around her. She didn't even glance at him as she followed his movements, settling beside him.

Bored out of her mind, she pulled out her MP3 player, put on her headphones, and listened to her music, ignoring him entirely. She was never one to talk much, and since he hadn't spoken first, she wasn't going to make the effort either. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes to rest.

The long flight didn't seem easy for her small frame, which looked fragile and unable to endure the discomfort. Albert Wilson tilted his head slightly, peering at her through his sunglasses, his gaze softening as he watched her delicate face, emotions flickering in his eyes.

As she was lost in her music, she suddenly felt a large hand reach out and pull one of her earphones out, slipping it into his own ear.

"What are you listening to?" he asked, his voice low and inquisitive.

However, before he could finish his sentence, he quickly tossed her earphones back to her. The reason? The song that was playing on her MP3, repeating over and over again:

"I'm not the woman you love..."

He shot her a sharp look and stood up, walking away without another word. Cynthia, feeling embarrassed, hadn't expected him to suddenly grab her earphones and listen to her music. She definitely didn't expect this particular song to play.

This was the song she had listened to on repeat when Vincent had abandoned her. During that time, she had asked herself over and over if she was truly the woman he loved.

She raised her eyes and saw him coming back with two cups of hot coffee, striding through the pouring rain. He handed her a steaming cup, and despite the quiet loneliness that seemed to hang around him, his weariness appeared a little lighter. She took the coffee, lowering her head and softly saying, "Thank you."

He didn't reply, settling next to her and drinking his coffee in silence. Coffee was supposed to be energizing, but as she drank, her eyelids grew heavier. Before she realized it, she had fallen asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. She must have been exhausted.

When she finally awoke, groggy and disoriented, she realized she was in a car, the vehicle bumping along the road. The rain had let up, and the air was fresh with that distinct scent that comes after a downpour.

She barely managed to open her eyes, catching a glimpse of purple fields stretching across the land, with vast, clear skies after the rain. She hadn't even had a chance to fully take in the scene before she fell back into his embrace, dozing once again.

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When she eventually woke up feeling well-rested, she realized she was lying in his arms. Their bodies were tangled awkwardly, with her back to him, and his arms tightly around her. Despite knowing they were on vacation together, she was still startled. She quickly jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.

When she came out of the bathroom, she saw him sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, smoking a cigarette.

This man... his first action upon waking up was to light a cigarette? Didn't he worry about how that would harm his health?

He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then glanced over at her, freshly out of the shower. With a calm, almost casual tone, he asked, "Can you ride a horse?"

"Yes," she answered honestly, unsure why he suddenly asked this question.