Her silence is long. Her chewing is slow. She sets her fork down and dabs daintily at her mouth with a napkin. “Well, I suppose your concern is warranted. Wentworth is a massive douche and I did kiss a random stranger under the influence of a single martini. But in my defense, it was rather unexpected and he was incredibly attractive.”
Now I’m silent. “Was?”
“Mmm.”
“But isn’t incredibly attractive anymore?”
“Recent behavior has taken him down a few points.”
“A few?”
“I’m sure with some good behavior he’ll be able to recover most of them.”
“How many points did I lose?”
“You think I’m talking about you?” The lightness in her tone drops as she continues, and her focus moves away from me to her pasta. “How do you know I haven’t kissed any other random strangers under the influence of a single martini while you’ve been off enjoying the extracurriculars in Amsterdam?”
“Extracurriculars?”
She lifts her fork, twisting the noodles, but they slip off, along with what appears to be false bravado. “Come on, Bane, you’re in the country where narcotics are legal and so is prostitution. I’m sure it’s not all work and no play.”
“You think I’d pay for sex just because it’s legal?”
She lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug, but her body language is stiff. In the time I’ve been away I’ve become fairly good at reading her. She’s expressive—hand gestures, the look on her face, her posture all tell me things her thorny words do not. The idea of this bothers her. And that makes me happy, because I feel like we are on a level playing field now.
“Honestly, Ruby?” It comes out with real bite.
Her gaze shifts my way. I see the thing I want: worry.
“I’m offended,” I say. “You should know me better than that by now, don’t you think?”
She scoffs.
“What’s that sound supposed to mean?”
This time when her gaze drops, so does her voice. “Armstrong implied you were enjoying the perks.”
Fucking Armstrong. The next time I play golf with him I’m going to Charlie horse him with a nine iron. “Armstrong can be an asshole.”
She fiddles with her napkin, twisting it until it tears. “So you’re not enjoying the perks? You haven’t even gone to a café and smoked a hookah?”
“Is that an approved activity or will it cost me more points?”
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “You might even earn some back if you send me a picture.”
I wish I could reach through the screen and touch her. “You could use it for blackmail purposes.”
She bats her lashes. “You think I would stoop to such low tactics?”
“I don’t know. You did lead me to believe you intended to sleep with Wentworth. My faith is shaken a little.”
“You were trying to tell me what to do!”
“You were drunk and at risk of poor decision making!” I counter.
She leans in closer, eyes narrowed, her fire having returned. “I was not drunk.”
I arch a brow.
She tips her head to the side and concedes, “Okay. I was a little drunk.”
“And there was cleavage. Excessive cleavage.”
“It wasn’t excessive. It was a perfectly tasteful amount of cleavage. You used the word forbid. At this point, you should know that words like can’t and forbid make me want to do exactly the opposite. You know what happened the last time someone forbid me to do something?”
“I hope it wasn’t sleep with an asshole.” I have so many inappropriate thoughts going through my head. I’d like to test out her response to the word forbid in a variety of scenarios.
Ruby shoots me a dirty look, as if she can read my mind. “No. I moved to New York and pursued my dream.” She mutters something else that I don’t quite catch. “Anyway. If you still have enough time to do something fun that doesn’t include prostitutes, I highly recommend enjoying a few hours in a café with a hookah, it might calm you down a little.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m usually very calm.”
“Unless cleavage and Wentworth are involved.”
“I’m fine with the cleavage, as long as it’s not combined with Wentworth.”
“But any other time the cleavage is acceptable.”
“I’m not answering that. I’m working my way into a points deficit and this feels like a trap.”
She points the fork at the screen and smiles deviously. “You’re learning.”
“How are my other two girls?” I ask, intent on changing the topic so I don’t get myself into more trouble.
Ruby blinks a few times, as if I’ve shocked her. “Other two girls?”
“Tiny and Francesca?” I like her in green.
“Oh. Right.” She shakes her head a little. “Do you want to see them?”
“When you’re finished eating. Don’t let your food get cold.”
“I’m full. It’s fine.” She takes me over to the terrarium first where Tiny is resting on her rock. Then she goes over to Francesca’s cage and takes her out, walking down the hall to my bedroom. “Sorry. Your bed’s not made, we were in here earlier.”
There’s some rustling around. I hear a few things hit the floor and then she sets the device up against the pillows and climbs up onto the bed. My bed. She’s wearing those tiny little shorts of hers again. And a tank. Her legs are incredible. I want her ankles resting on my shoulders and the very limited amount of clothing she’s wearing to be gone when that happens. Not that I’ve been thinking about this scenario a lot or anything.
Francesca runs around on the bed, playing hide and seek under the covers until she gets tired. Then she crawls onto Ruby’s lap and sticks her head under her shirt.
“What’s going on there?”
“She likes to hide out between my boobs.” Francesca peeks her head out of the neckline.
“Smart girl,” I reply.
I can’t wait to go home. Actually, I’m hoping to be back sooner than I originally planned. I only have a few more things to do in Amsterdam and then it’s back to London. Lexington is going before me to tie up some loose ends there, which is great because he’s driving me batshit nuts with all of his micromanaging. I also think his inability to lay off of the perks here is interfering with work. Normally he’s pretty good at moderation, but it doesn’t seem that way right now. He needs to dry out for a few days.
I’ve done all the sightseeing I want to. Home is where I want to be most. In my own bed, eating my own food, prepared in my own kitchen. I want dinner with Ruby. Except she’s likely going to be moving out when I get back. Which I’m not all that excited about. I like my time with her.
“How’s the job hunt going?”
Ruby bites her lip and her gaze shifts away. “It’s okay. I have another audition later this week. I have a couple of interviews for some part-time work outside of theater, just for something a bit more steady.”
“Oh. That’s good news then?” Her tone makes me think it’s the opposite. That she’s looking for something outside of acting must mean she’s having difficulty finding a role and that seems like a real travesty. She’s a born actress from the stories she’s told me. From the moment she could talk, she’s been performing, school Christmas concerts, drama classes, lead roles in every high school production. Even her first kiss was on a stage. She said it was awful because the lead had eaten a burger with raw onions on it before they rehearsed the scene. She sounds exactly like I was with rugby, except she’s just starting and I’ve already been down that road.