Then his attention slides to my face. If eyes had a language, his would be saying he wants to trap me and smear my lipstick in a dark library corner about now.
I shake my head internally, forcing that image to go up in smoke. It’s all I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. There’s a slight chance Ronan will ruin my plan. Contrary to my original assessment, he’s not a gigolo. He’s only using the gigolo image for other purposes, and since I don’t know what those are, I can’t form a counterstrike this soon.
The way he touched me and how his usual shallowness slipped means he might have more depth.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll give up on the plan. I’ve finally gotten here, and no rich spoilt boy will take away my justice.
The more he watches me, the harder I glare back.
If he thinks I’ll be the one to break eye contact first, he must not know who he’s dealing with.
His girls and shags don’t even compare to me. He’s lived in one world, and I’m an entirely different one altogether.
Charlotte breaks away, shutting down the glaring competition. We all take our seats, and as I settle beside Dad, my gaze strays to the head of the table.
Edric motions at one of the staff, and like magic, dishes appear in front of us. They contain many colours with different compelling smells. Knox dives into the food and loses the connection with his immediate surroundings.
Dad and Agnus are chatting about business and stocks. Ronan whispers something to Knox — probably about the ‘usual’ parties — and they both laugh under their breaths.
Elsa keeps sending me pleading signals over the table even as she speaks to Charlotte.
Me? There’s this black smoke that keeps swirling around my head and a shadow perching on my shoulder.
I can’t fight it off as I watch him, hear him, his voice with that distinguishable tenor. It’s changed a little, but it has been more than a decade, after all.
He’s still the same: confident, arrogant, and a wolf in a sheep’s clothing.
Back then, I could do nothing about it.
Now, I’ll slaughter his legacy, crush his name, and make him bleed.
My phone vibrates in my jacket and I pull it out under the table, thinking it’s a notification from one of the newsletters I’m signed up for, or perhaps the club. My heart flutters at the thought. It’s a long shot, but what if they accept me? What if they —
My shoulders drop when I see the screen.
It’s a text from Ronan.
My attention slides to him. He’s still joking and playing with Knox across the table; when the hell did he have time to text?
Also, I have no clue how he got my number, though this isn’t the first time he’s texted me. He sent me one last night, too.
Today’s text says:
Ronan: Do as agreed.
I scroll up to last night’s texts.
Ronan: My father will ask if you agree to this engagement, and you’ll apologise and say you don’t. If you feel like it, some tears are encouraged, but it’s not mandatory.
Teal: Why would I do that?
Ronan: Because if you don’t, I’ll figure out your secret and crush you with it until you wish you’d never gotten in my way. Mmmkay?
Teal: What makes you think I have a secret?
Ronan: We all do, ma belle. Some are just more destructive than others.
I didn’t reply to his last message, and I don’t plan to reply to this one.