Chapter Eleven #2
My heartbeat triples. Blood rushes up my neck and to my ears and settles there. I swallow, forcing myself to hold his gaze and not squirm in my seat. “A lot. So don’t ask.”
His tone innocent, he says, “I wasn’t. I was only wondering.”
He smiles, sipping his drink and staring at me, then flicks his tongue out and leisurely licks the salt from the rim, all the while holding my gaze so I know it isn’t the salt he wants to taste.
He’s playing games. Don’t let him get to you.
“Good. Because I have a fiancé.”
Have, had, same difference. Except technically Ezra never asked me to marry him, and I wouldn’t have said yes if he did, but I’m not splitting hairs.
Ronan drawls, “A fiancé. How conventional of you. I thought the Blackthorn women didn’t believe in marriage.” He glances at my hand. “Where’s the ring?”
I manage to lie with a straight face. “I don’t like to travel with it. It’s too huge. Draws too much attention.”
“Sure. And this fiancé of yours, what’s his name?”
His mocking tone gets my hackles up. “What, you think he doesn’t exist? You think no man would ever ask someone like me to marry him?”
“I think a lot of men would want to marry you … if they could get past the alligator-filled moat and the flaming balls of fire raining from the sky and the hail of arrows being shot from the castle walls. But in this particular case, I think you’re just lying.”
I settle back into the booth with my drink. “Lucky for me, I don’t care what you think.”
He narrows his eyes. As he did earlier, I suggestively lick salt from the rim of the glass, holding his gaze as I do it.
He’s not the only one who can play erotic little head games.
The hostess arrives holding two plates. “We’ve got chicken adobo and chili relleno. Who wants what?”
At the same time, we both say, “I’ll take the chicken.”
Unsure, she looks back and forth between us until Ronan gestures to me. “The lady will have the chicken. I’ll take the chili relleno.”
The hostess sets the plates down. Ronan tells her we need another round of drinks. I say we don’t, but he tells her to ignore me. She leaves, looking befuddled.
He picks up his fork and smiles at me. “My money’s on us getting another round. What do you think?”
“I think you were doing me an injustice when you called me a lady. I’m nowhere near as well-behaved as that.”
“I would’ve said ‘rabid wolverine’ but I didn’t think it would go over.”
A miracle occurs: we laugh together. Then our gazes catch and hold, and I don’t feel so amused anymore.
I guzzle the rest of my margarita and concentrate on the plate in front of me, reminding myself that this is the person who made my life miserable for years.
He ridiculed me, he taunted me, he humiliated me every chance he got. Then he’d do an about-face and pretend like I didn’t exist, breezing past me in the hallways at school with his nose in the air and his eyes averted.
And still, I loved him.
Love isn’t blind like they say. It’s total insanity.
We eat in silence until the hostess returns with more margaritas and a small plate of bacon. She sets everything down without asking any questions and runs away.
Munching on his chili relleno, Ronan glances at the fresh margaritas. “I won.”
“How thrilling for you.”
“It is. You’re hard to beat at anything.”
“That’s because I’m smarter than you.”
“Excuse me, but I’m the head of a multibillion-dollar international corporation.”
“Yeah. Started by your great-great-great-grandpa and handed over to you by your daddy. I’m not impressed. By the way, why do you still live in Solstice? Shouldn’t you be prancing around Monaco or Miami or someplace more appealing to playboys?”
“Maybe all this time I’ve been hoping you’d come back.”
I glower at him. “Don’t be flippant. I’ve got a knife in my hand.”
He gazes at me for a moment, then relents. “I keep a house here so I can stay close to the family, but I’m at corporate headquarters in Boston three days a week. Sometimes more, if necessary.”
“That’s a long drive.”
“I have a pilot. We take the helicopter.”
“Ah.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“It was one syllable. I didn’t say it like anything.”
“Yes, you did, and you know it. You’re the only person alive who can turn a single syllable into a symphony of disdain.”
I think about that for a moment, then smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. How’s the chicken?”
“The best thing I’ve ever eaten. How’s the relleno?”
“Like seasoned cardboard. Let me have a bite of yours.”
Without waiting for permission, he reaches across and spears a piece of chicken with his fork. “Mmm. Yummy. Here, have some bacon.”
He gives me two slices and puts two on his own plate. One remains, which he breaks in half and splits between us.
“That’s surprisingly generous of you. When did you get to be so equitable?”
“I’ve gone soft in my old age.”
Not from the looks of it. He’s big and hard in all the right places.
Against my better judgment, I’m curious about him. I want to know what he’s been doing the past twelve years, if he’s happy, if he’s lonely, if he has a wife. He’s not wearing a ring, but that doesn’t mean much.
Knowing him, he probably takes it off and puts it in his pocket every time he leaves his house, the cur.
“You can ask, you know.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can ask me questions about myself.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t want anything from you.”
He licks his lips and glares at me, those pale eyes of his burning with intense heat.
“Sure. I don’t want anything from you, either. Now both of us are liars. Now eat your damn bacon and stop smiling because you finally succeeded at pissing me off.”
I smile wider. Then I salute him and pop a chunk of bacon in my mouth.
His aggravated growl is the most satisfying thing I’ve heard in years.