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Ronan grumbles, stabbing his fork into his spinach. “Who?”
“I can't say.” He slowly turns to me with a glare, but I continue anyway. “It's highly classified, special information and all. But only that she really would like this ball to happen.”
“Not happening.”
My shoulders sink slightly. Shit. Okay, this is harder than I thought. New tactic. “It's a little dance, what harm could it be?”
“Maybe the ongoing fuck storm with this new information. It's enough on my plate.”
I nod because it's a good point. Still, I may not have promised Isabella, but I want this to happen for my own selfish reasons, and...so the students can have something normal in their lives.
Okay. Round three. “Whatever that we have going on shouldn't get in the way of teenagers enjoying themselves. It is your school, so I have no say. But...” I twirl my spoon in the bowl, not looking at anything in particular, only the hanging memories of the times when I was younger. “Take it from someone who never got to experience any of that. My kind of dance was going to the ball to kill a Bratva leader or a minister.”
He doesn't say anything back, only looking ahead with no answer to his expression, chewing slowly on his spinach. I watch as his jaws flexes as he chews, his Adams apple bulges out slightly when he swallows. Then he scoops some of his soup and eats it. I wait to see if he’ll make a twisted face. He doesn't.
Maybe he does like mushrooms.
I’ll ask for future reference. If there is a future with us...or here for that matter.
Focus!
I push away the thoughts and wait for him to say something but continues to sit here with a deadpan expression until he turns his head to look at me with the same look. I don't leave his stare as I stuff my mouth with more soup. Heat rushes over my face; maybe I overstepped. I’m ready to give in and say forget I ever said anything.
Then he drops his spoon into his bowl, wipes his mouth with the napkin before propping his elbow onto his marble counter with a serious stare. “I’ll only agree...” His lips finally curl into an eerie smirk, dosed with a caution on the side. “If you agree to be my date.”
That's it? “Your date?” I say with a dip to my brows.
He nods. “You heard me.”
I straightened my back, pretending to think on it, although my answer was yes the second he said it. I tuck a loose curl behind my hair. “I don't see why not.”
“That's not an answer. Don't beat around the bush with me. Yes or no.” Ronan's hand cups my knee and squeezes, the contact sends a surge of sensation up my leg and straight between them, too.
I glance at him through half lids. “Yes.”
He flashes a boyish grin with a wink. “Good. I guess there’ll be a Christmas party happening,” he says in Portuguese, then uses his left hand to eat, and the other stays put on my leg, stroking my sensitive skin.
I’ve never had dates or dances, so the thought of going excites me more than I let on.
He dusts off his hands, then wipes his mustache. “Now, tell me about this game again?” he says, grabbing the knife from where I left it.
I finish off my soup and push the bowl to the side. I want to ask how come he’s never heard of pin the hand game, but I’m even more thrilled to be the first person to introduce it to him. Ronan drags my chair closer to his, my legs are now practically touching his dick.
“Are you sure? You may lose a finger.”
“A little cut has never hurt me, and if my finger falls off, will you sew it back on for me?”
A smile elicits on my lips, and I fold them in to contain the heat blazing my cheeks. My eyes shift to his face, and he's watching me with an amorous stare. I take his wrist and place it in the middle between us. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try my best. You may or may not end up with my finger attached to yours.” I snicker.
Ronan hums, the sound throaty and gruff. “That wouldn't be so bad now, would it?”
We leer at each other while I’m spreading his long fingers onto the cold marble, my fingers stroking his smooth skin, and it sparks a tiny electric current between us. I’m sure if my back weren't mutilated, he would take me, right here, right now. I squeeze my thighs together to simmer down the ache roaring between my legs.
I guess it wouldn't be so bad.His deep stare becomes heavier, and I swallow, focusing my gaze on the game. “Well, you place your hand down on a flat surface...”