He wasn’t sure why he said it. He knew who she was, had expected to see her, but there was no anticipating what the sight of her did to his brain.
Strangely enough, she simultaneously said the same words, “It’s you.”
They stood in silence, watching each other. Waiting.
Finally, Dominique glanced at her assistant, breaking the staring contest. “Could you excuse us, Veronica?”
The other woman regarded them both with obvious curiosity, but she nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.
By the time the door shut, Dominique appeared perfectly composed. The surprise in her expression erased. “Please have a seat,” she said, gesturing to one of the chairs facing her desk.
He saw the flash of black on her right wrist at the movement and realized that she hadn’t covered her curse mark with a glamour as his parents pushed him to do. The sight of the crescent moon stirred the ire inside him and…something else. Something dark and possessive.
Unaware of the turn his thoughts had taken, she walked around to her seat and settled into it. “What can I help you with?” she asked.
Her cool façade was firmly in place, and Ronan found he hated it as much now as he’d hated it thirty years ago. In fact, she seemed even more aloof and in control than she had back then, which was disconcerting. The private investigator he’d hired to find her had referred to her as an ice queen, and now he could understand why. She was locked up tight, her face a mask of mild civility.
“It’s time for you to repay your debt,” he said, walking over to the desk and parking his ass on the edge of it.
Seemingly unruffled by his words, her eyes dropped to where he sat on the wood before lifting back to his gaze. “I’m afraid Idon’t know which debt you’re referring to. Or that I’d incurred one at all.”
“Considering I never would have been cursed by a sorceress at the age of thirteen if not for you, I’d say you definitely owe me.”
Dominique laced her fingers together and rested her hands on the desk in front of her. Her posture was regal and straight, her head held high as she tilted it back to survey him. “Very well. What payment are you hoping to obtain?” she asked.
His gut twisted at her calm, cold words. She seemed completely unbothered by his statement. There was no anger in her gaze. No anger in her tone. She wasn’t even going to argue with him. Her mild acceptance of his statement was completely unexpected.
Off-balance, Ronan moved from the edge of her desk to the chair she’d gestured toward earlier. He slouched into it, folding his hands over his belly. “I need a wife.”
He was amazed at the change that came over her. Warmth flooded her features, and she actually smiled at him. The expression on her face hit him like a punch to the gut. It knocked the breath from his lungs. He’d never seen her smile before.
“You’ve come to the right place. Our success rate for matches is the best?—”
Ronan held up a hand. “I’m not interested in finding my match,” he stated.
Dominique eyed him. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Her tone was cautious, which nearly made him smirk. She was right to be wary of him because once he outlined his plan, she would not be pleased.
“I don’t arrange marriages, Your Highness.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then, how do you expect me to help you?”
“You’ll be the one marrying me.”
Dominique stared at him, her expression shuttering. “Pardon me?”
Ronan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I need a wife immediately and for the next five to ten years. I don’t want to deal with the hassle of finding someone I can tolerate and hashing out a contract. You owe me a debt, and this is the repayment.”
Dominique blinked slowly. Her eyes were the color of the arctic sky when she opened them again, pinning him with her gaze. His skin suddenly felt chilled.
“Repaying my debt to you would be posing as your fiancée for a short while or finding you a match. This is a great deal more than that.”
“You are the debtor. You do not get to choose the terms of repayment. Only I can do that.”
“I’m afraid I don’t agree.” Though her words stated her disagreement, her demeanor was calm and cool, as though they were discussing the weather.
