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Summary
“Who’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”
“Me.” She kept her smirk hidden in the glass of wine, long lashes coating her view of the way he stiffened on the other side of the table, shoulders squaring. She’d wondered for nearly forever on what his reaction would be when finding out just exactly what her name was, and what his reaction would be when she finally told it to him— years of playful banter about how her greatest secret would be as plain and simple as his adoration to her. Her hands clammed at the quietness in the room, but she pushed through it, keeping her eyes level with the man across the dinner table. “I want you to take me out.”
“With a gun?” Chat Noir grimaced, leather gloves squeaking as he fisted his hands. “Or out on a date?”
“Surprise me.”