Mireille exited the bathroom, and as she sank into the chair across from him, he assessed her.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“What?” He moved a piece across the board, the picture of innocence.
“I got plenty of rest. While you were playing with yourself?” She gestured to the game.
He chuckled. “Gotta keep my skills sharp. My sister is ruthless. We have a decades long tournament going at the moment, and I am way behind.”
A flutter stirred Mireille’s chest. He continued to surprise her, thisButcherof Aethalia. So full of contrasts.
“Do you play?” he asked.
“No, I never learned. Where did you find the board?”
“Top shelf of the closet.”
Mireille gnawed her bottom lip, her mind churning.
“Nope,” Ronin said, popping the last syllable.
“Nope what? You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I knowexactlywhat you’re going to say. But we can’t go sneaking around the estate right now. While you were snoring away in dreamland, this arrived.”
Ronin handed her a cream card as she fought to suppress her embarrassment. Had she been snoring? She was amazed she’d let herself be that vulnerable in front of him, to sleep that deeply.
When she slept next to her marks, she’d lie on the edge of wakefulness the whole night. Even if she managed to drift off,not a single mark had survived long enough to mention her snoring.
As if he could read every twitch of her face, he added, “Don’t worry. It was less snoring and more a delicate whistling noise. Like an off-key clarinet. Fucking adorable.”
She blushed, glancing down at the card. Printed in swooping script, it read:Master Matakos and Mistress Valette - your presence is requested this evening in Master Otto’s private dining quarters. A servant will arrive to fetch you at seven o’clock. Please dress appropriately.
“Please dress appropriately?” Mireille snorted. “What doesthatmean?”
“You’ve seen the shit he wears.” Ronin moved another piece across the board. “I think the technical term for it isabsurdist whimsical chic.”
She couldn’t help the rumbling laugh that poured out of her as she crossed to the closet. She flipped through the dresses she’d brought, most of which she’d worn on previous assignments. “What time is it?”
“Quarter past six,” Ronin answered, not looking up from his game.
“Are you kidding? It’ll take me half that time just to shower. Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” She flew back into the bathroom to get ready.
Forty minutes later, she emerged to find Ronin waiting at the door with his back to her, dressed in a sleek black shirt and pants. Which he’d topped with a pair of checkered suspenders, of all things.
He turned at her snicker, his breath catching as his eyes traveled the length of her shimmering gold gown. She’d left her hair down again. Not for him, she lied to herself.
He continued to stare, his heated gaze a physical weight upon her body, stealing her breath.
“Ready?” she wheezed out, frozen in place.
Rather than opening the door, he prowled toward her. “You forgot a piece of your armor.” His voice was low and silky as he tugged her across the room.
He wrapped his tattooed hands around her waist and hoisted her up onto the vanity, grazing her knee with his fingertips and encouraging her to spread her legs. As he settled between them, she had to restrain herself from wrapping her thighs around his waist.
He plucked up her lipstick and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.
“Part your lips for me, love.”
