Ronin pulled a folder from the box, then extracted a document written in swooping letters. “What does this say?”
Mireille gaped at him. “You don’t speak Aramaelish? I assumed you did, based on that phrase you have tattooed on your knuckles.”
Ronin shrugged. “I only know a few words here and there.”
Aramaelish was only used as a daily language on the continent sporadically, for official purposes and mostly among the higher class Fae. Which Ronin certainly was not. His parents and sister had only spoken to each other in the common tongue, the language used most often throughout Ethyrios and among the humans as well. Most signs on the continent were written in Aramaelish, so he’d gleaned some. But he certainly couldn’t speak or read it.
“Let me guess,” he said, “you’re fluent.”
“Of course I am. It’s a necessity that operatives speak it in addition to the common tongue.”
“If we’re supposed to be dating,that’ssomething I should know about you. I don’t even know where you’re from, what your parents’ names are.”
She dipped a hand into her pocket, a flicker of the deepest sadness darkening her silver eyes. Shit. Had something happened to her parents? He felt a small stab of guilt for teasing her.
Until she opened her mouth and proved, yet again, what a cold bitch she was.
“I don’t want to know anything about you, Butcher. Only what’s absolutely necessary. You’re a tool to get me through this assignment and nothing more. I don’t need your sympathy or your intimacy, and I’mcertainlynot going to offer anything of the kind to you. So, let’s just cut the bullshit. Play your role and I’ll play mine, and when this is all over, we can go our separate ways.”
Ronin whistled and spread his arms across the back of his chair. “She-wolfdoeshave claws, after all. What nerve did I just hit, huh?”
Mireille didn’t answer, merely scowled, her foot tapping against the floor. “Off fucking limits.” She leaned down to pick up her bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Theater. Practice. Files are all yours.” She gestured to the bookshelf. “There’s an Aramaelish dictionary over there if you need help translating.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense foryouto do this? It’ll take me five times as long.”
“Guess you’d better get started then.” She hauled her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. “See you tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” he barked out, halting her.
“Skanisse didn’t tell you?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, mumbling, “It’s the debut of our fake relationship.”
“Oooo, you’ve finally admitted it’s a relationship. Say it again, baby. Tightens my balls.”
Her silver eyes blazed and if looks could kill, he’d be bleeding out in his chair right now.
She whipped open the door. “If we’re not able to score an invite to that event, or if anyone suspects we’re not really a couple, this isn’t going to work. And we canbothsay goodbye toour rewards from the Emperor. Dinner. Riashi’s. Eight o’clock. Then tomorrow night, he’s gotten you a ticket to the ballet. Better hope Otto shows up.”
“Can’t fucking wait,” he grumbled, slouching down in his chair.
“They wanted you on this assignment for a reason, Ronin. And it’s not just to be my gorgeous arm candy. Maybe a miracle will occur and you’ll find something in those files that I didn’t. Do your fucking homework.”
The corkboard on the wall rattled as she slammed the door behind her, leaving him alone with his wolf and the files.
Groaning, he strode to the bookshelf to grab the dictionary, then slumped into his seat and plucked out a folder.
He’d prove to that smug little minx that he could find answers, too. That he was just as smart as she clearly thought she was.
It was only hours later, the juicy tidbits of information he’d found piled before him, his eyes scratchy and his back aching in the tiny chair, that he realized Mireille’s clever manipulation of his pride.
Maybe she was smarter than him after all.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Selene, you have to?—”
