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“Ow, my feelings. Gracious, pet. You could have shot me instead.”
Peering at me, he mutters, “And risk getting blood on my seat? No.”
“Fine.” I offer him my hand along with my most refined expression—something that lands between narcissist and constipation. “I won’t embarrass you. Do we have a deal?”
“There’s one last thing.”
I lift a brow.
“Don’t call my bird Oreo.”
Eyes widening, I tamp down a laugh. Nice to know he’s got his priorities in order. “Fine, I won’t.”
Nodding, he clasps my hand. “Then we have a deal.”
Indeed we do. And, on an unrelated note, I am going to teach his bird to say “my name is Oreo” if it’s the last thing I do.
Chapter 9
~~~~~~~~~~~~
She smells like cake and regrets.
Rowan
I don’t normally want to stab people, so this is weird for me. These days, without my parents dictating my stabbing schedule, stabbing someone is only an unavoidable and depressing reality I stumble into on occasion. Regrettably. Unintentionally. As a last resort.
In this precise moment, however, the weight of the knife in my boot is a little too…accessible.
“Any questions?” Briar turns to Chip, Lace, and me in a small meeting room at the Rosanera manor. It’s been a week. A single week. I had thought things were going well.
Shortly after making our deal, Briar and I parted ways. Promptly the next morning, a Rosanera solider stopped by with the reports I’d asked for. I added going through them to my task list, which got back to Corbin, which resulted in questions that opened dialogue regarding proposals and the prospect of a political courtship.
A few days later, after I had a chance to discover there was no point where Veleno’s and Rosanera’s projects overlapped, I presented the decision that Briar and I become engaged at a meeting.
The entire situation devolved, as expected, highlighting further who among my subordinates is loyal, and who among them side with Granger.
In spite of Aster and I needing to contain that mess, things have been going well.
We hadn’t been making any progress, but at least I hadn’t been pulling out my hair.
Up until this moment.
Briar calls on Chip when he raises his hand, and he asks, “Isn’t an amusement park too generic for a first public date? It feels kind of like a cliché.”
Lace, deadly serious, pinches her chin. “I agree. I’m also against the inclusion of a spreadsheet depicting nutrition facts for park food. If you’re gonna go to an amusement park, you should eat whatever ya want.”
Chip nods, curls bouncing. “It’s a special occasion. Calories, hydrolyzed fats, and artificial flavorings don’t exist on special occasions.”
Briar scrolls back through the slides on her PowerPoint presentation…the PowerPoint presentation labeled Do Pets Like Parks?…and scans the detailed spreadsheet.
If I’m being perfectly honest, this spreadsheet is the only thing keeping me from stomping out of here. I have never seen organization at such a neurotic level outside of my own efforts. Each day, I understand more that Briar is a mad genius, but I don’t appreciate her coming violently for my fetishes.
“Rowan looks like he survives off protein shake IV, so I have a feeling healthy habits are important to him. Also—” She glances at me, looks me up and down as I swallow hard, then fixes her attention back on Chip. “—it totally turns him on.”
“It does not,” I snap.
Her head tilts. “Are you saying you’d prefer a different method of flirting?”
