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My mind shatters.
Wh—
I blink.
My brow furrows.
She’s insane. Actually insane.
That’s just fantastic.
All I can come up with is: “I don’t date people who tie me up.”
“That’s a boring answer.”
Frankly, I do not have a better one.
When I don’t rescind my reply or correct myself, her bottom lip juts. “I’ll forgive anyone for anything—but only once. After the second time, I’ll hold a grudge forever. So, let’s try again: Rowan, Veleno, date me with the intention to marry.”
She has got to be joking.
I grumble, “Are you having trouble finding a partner?”
Her lips tip down.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s only on account of your personality.”
Her head tilts, one trim brow rising. “Did you just call me pretty?”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Her mouth softens with the ghost of a smile. “Then why did it sound like one?”
I grunt. “Excellent circle back.”
“Thank you.”
“Mind untying me?”
“Not yet.”
Yet, huh? Heaving a sigh, I shift against the chafing binds. “I’m going to assume your competence extends beyond effective knots. Give me the why behind this insane proposition, and maybe we can reach an effective compromise.”
“Can’t a socially-awkward young lady propose courtship to an emotionally-unavailable man without having to explain herself?”
I don’t believe for a second that she’s socially-awkward. Also… “What makes you think I’m emotionally-unavailable?”
“Please, Rowan. It’s better for both of us if I don’t go into all the reasons behind your emotional unavailability. While I do enjoy making grown men cry, we have more important things to deal with.”
My shoulders sag. “We do. So why are you skirting around my questions?”
“To be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love.”
Not her quoting Pride and Prejudice. While I’m tied up. In her bedroom. Past midnight.
On. A. Weekday.
This is a nightmare.
