Page 49 of Cruel Lies

So I go with something else.

"What's your middle name?"

His eyebrow ticks up. "Maksim."

"Ronan Maksim Akov." I test it. "Sounds like a man who owns at least one yacht."

"Two."

"Why am I not surprised?" I take a sip of water. "And what do you name a yacht when you have two?"

"The YachtandThe Other Yacht," he says. "I'm not creative."

I suppress a giggle. "What's the worst thing you've ever cooked?"

He blinks. "I don't cook," he says.

"Red flag," I declare. "I knew I'd find one sooner or later."

"I wish I could, but I never learned." A pang of pain crosses his face, brief, gone before I can even be sure I saw it. "There wasn't anyone to teach me."

I wince, instantly feeling like a stone-cold bitch. I bet he'd tell me if I pressed, but I'd feel invasive and rude, and something tells me it's not the right move. Not now. Not yet.

"Is it my turn?" he asks, sensing my silence.

I nod, grateful that the sommelier comes along then to pour our wines and fill the awkward gap.

"My first question," Ronan says. "What were you like before him?"

It's not what I expected. It knifes in under the ribs somewhere, in a soft spot I forgot I had.

"That's a strange question."

"I'm a strange man. You've said so yourself. Repeatedly."

I look down at the candle and think about it.Before Todd.What a concept. Did I even exist before then? Some days, it feels like a dream, badly remembered, mostly made-up.

"Before him," I say slowly, "I was… bold. I cared about—I don't know. Everything. I'd argue with strangers. I once made a boyfriend break up with me because I wouldn't stop correctinghis pronunciation of 'nuclear.'" I laugh, surprised by the sudden memory. "I built things. I had this whole—I had avision.I was going to change things, to be someone. And then…"

I stop. Because the answer towhat were you like before himis the same as the answer towhat did he take away from you,and I didn't see that until it was already out of my mouth.

Ronan doesn't fill the silence. He lets me simmer in it, patient.

"And then I let someone else take the pen," I finish. "I let him tell the story of who I was. Spoiler: it wasn't a flattering edit."

"No," he agrees. "But you took the pen back. I watched you do it."

I toy with my wine glass. When I'm feeling brave enough, I glance up at Ronan's face in the candlelight. "That was almost a nice thing to say."

His mouth quirks. "Don't get used to it."

The first of the appetizers arrives then. The octopus is, I am furious to report, extraordinary. I decide not to tell Hayden about it. Might break his delicate heart. And he's only got one of them, not nine.

Ronan watches me eat with a cryptic, gentle smile painted on his face the whole time. It's wild how even his tiniest facial expressions make me so curious about the man.What are you thinking right now? What are you feeling? What do you see when you look at me?

There's zero judgment in him. But after a lifetime with Todd and his endless comments about my size and appetites, all my many flaws, I'm hypersensitive and self-aware at meals. So I stick todainty little bites, even though it's so good I want to moan and eat enough to actually feelfullfor once.

While we eat, we talk. It's easier than it has any right to be. He asks about Hayden and Isabella and actually listens to the answers. He asks follow-up questions, remembers that Hayden likes facts and Isabella likes mayhem. He tells me about his cousin, Navi, who he describes as "an idiot I'd take a bullet for."