Page 86 of Don't Bet On It
He frowned. “What did I say?”
“You just… You missed the clam joke. It was sitting right there.”
From the way his forehead creased, I could tell he was running our conversation through his head. Ultimately, he scowled. “Like I would pick low-hanging fruit like that,” he complained.
I laughed because his outrage was adorable. “I like that you don’t pick the low-hanging fruit. I’m still getting used to it, though.”
“Well, work faster.” He went back to looking at the menu. “I’m going with the chicken parm.”
“Solid choice.” I felt his feet land on either side of mine under the table and had to battle back a grin. “You’re not playing footsies with me, are you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The server, who looked bored, took our order with little fanfare and then headed off after exchanging the bare minimum of conversation. We were stuck with iced tea—I would neverhave a cocktail before work—but conversation flowered fast and easy. When we got our food, I dug in with gusto.
“Oh, this is amazing,” I said on a heady exhale. “I knew it was going to be good.”
“What about the flashing lights in every direction? How do you feel about those?”
“I appreciate the aesthetic. But I would be worried if I was epileptic.”
“Right?”
We spent the next few minutes in silence, both of us focused on our meals. Another thing I really liked about Ronan was that I could be quiet with him. He didn’t expect—nor did he want—me to fill awkward silences. He was perfectly happy not talking.
When I was a kid, I’d hated silence. It was a constant reminder that I was alone in the world. As I grew older, I’d started to thrive in silence. Whether that was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t say. It was my thing, though.
No other man had ever been able to embrace the silence with me. Ronan was the last man I’d expected to do it. Yet here we were.
Once I’d taken the edge off my hunger, I slowed down. Giving myself a stomachache from eating too fast would fill my evening with discomfort. Being hungry as a child—on a regular basis—meant I had a tendency to shovel in food as if it were about to be outlawed. I had to remind myself not to do that now, which was a constant struggle.
I forced myself to slow my pace and sipped my iced tea, my eyes scanning the restaurant. The hour was early for people to eat, and yet Superfrico was doing solid business. Most everybody at the restaurant had to be tourists, I guessed. Nobody else, other than workers, ate this early in the city. In general, Las Vegas residents tended to eat late.
I was so eager to go back to my food that I almost missed the individuals eating in the corner of the restaurant. They were a decent distance away, and Superfrico was dark enough that it wasn’t easy to make them out. The flashing lights illuminated the duo, however, and once I recognized them, I couldn’t look away.
“Hey!”
I had no idea how long I’d been mesmerized by what I was seeing, but Ronan snapped his fingers to draw my attention. He smiled at me. “I was worried the lights hypnotized you,” he admitted.
I swallowed hard, my dinner forgotten. “No, it wasn’t the lights.”
Confused, he drew his eyebrows together as he shifted to look over his shoulder, clearly curious about what had garnered my attention. When his gaze fell on his father and Ryder Stone, his smile disappeared in an instant.
“What in the hell?” he muttered.
I was right there with him. I hadn’t seen either man since that night at the Paris casino. Olivia had made noise about Ryder trying to get someone on the board at Stone to add him to the agenda so he could attend a meeting. So far, he hadn’t gotten any takers.
“What are they doing together?” I asked after a beat.
Ronan shook his head. “I don’t know. It makes no sense to me that they’re spending time together.”
“And you’re sure that they weren’t friends before all of this?”
“I’m sure.” No mirth was to be found in Ronan’s gaze. “I even asked my mother about it during one of our weekly calls. I was all nonchalant and everything so she wouldn’t be suspicious. I mentioned Ryder was trying to gain access to the hotel and asked her what she knew about him. I figured it wasa roundabout way for her to mention that Dad and Ryder were friendly.”
“And?” I prodded.
“And she said that she’d only interacted with him a handful of times over the years. She said Dad was on a few committees with him, but she said Dad never liked Ryder. She called him low class and didn’t appreciate that he cheated on Cora the way he did.”
