Mireille ignored her wolf’s panting as Ronin jogged up the steps and opened the door, the burbling voices spilling over to where she stood, transfixed.
Once inside the foyer, he shucked off his jacket, patting away the snow, and swiveled his head. Searching for her.
How incredibly absurd this all was. Ronin Matakos didn’t date females like Mireille. In fact, from what she knew of his exploits, he didn’t date at all.
It was that thought which spurred her into motion. This wasn’t a date. It was a job. Might as well get it over with.
Glancing left and right for passing vehicles, she crossed the street and strode into the bustling restaurant.
Ronin pivoted toward her as she opened the door, and he stepped over to take her coat.
“Valette,” he crooned.
“Matakos. I’m surprised you showed up.”
He cocked an eyebrow, a wry smile twisting his plush lips. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I thought you didn’t dohomework.”
His laughter was low and uncharacteristically warm, sinking into his role. “A night out with a beautiful female can hardly be considered homework.” He leaned in to whisper into her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “Even if this is all for show.”
She fought an urge to press in closer as her wolf took a deep whiff of his scent.
Bountiful Faurana,the creature groaned.He smells incredible.
Mireille breathed in his fresh, wild scent—wind-tousled pine trees and frosted citrus—then dragged her gaze across his slim gray trousers topped with a fitted navy sweater that showed off his broad chest and muscular arms.
“You look…nice,” she said.
His lupine grin had her instantly regretting the platitude. “Holy shit, was that a compliment?”
“Don’t get used to it,” she grumbled. “Just playing my part.”
He performed a similar perusal over her forest green, high-necked dress. It was one of the few she owned that she’d purchased solely for herself and not as a trapping for one of her many disguises. She’d been overtaken by a rare moment of vanity when the salesfemale had gushed over how incredible it made her legs look.
His eyes darkened as they traveled their length. “You look…nice, too.” The word was loaded as it dripped from his lips.
She tugged at the short, flowing skirt, questioning her decision to wear it.
Please, her wolf piped up.You knowexactlywhy—and for whom—you wore it.
Okay, fine. Yes, she’d wanted to look good tonight. She’d caught him staring at her a few times in the archives hall this morning. And heated looks like that coming from an attractive, powerful male like him… He’d been on her mind all day.
It was fucking annoying.
Are you going to offer up unhelpful commentary all night long?Mireille snapped at her wolf.
The beast sat back on her haunches, cocked her head and perked up her ears.Oh my darling, I’m just getting started.
Ronin cradled the small of Mireille’s back, the warmth of his fingers seeping through the thin silk. “Come, our table’s ready.”
Her wolf let out a euphoric sigh at both the touch and the command, and Mireille bit her tongue to keep from echoing it.
Just a job, she reminded herself.
This was going to be a long, exhausting night.
Twisting heads and muttered whispers followed them through the restaurant, shock at seeing the prima ballerina of the Kheimos Company with the infamous Butcher of Aethalia.Though, there was an equal amount of envy. For both of them, Mireille supposed.
