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Rose was already dressed and ready to go when a knock sounded at the door. She glared at the door, wishing she could drill a hole in it and burn the person standing on the other side. Even the way he had knocked, just once, as if he had somehow known Rose would be ready to answer, made her temper flare.
So she made him wait. Take that, Richard.
After a sufficiently long amount of time, she stood up and walked to the door, not giving herself time to overthink the implications of what agreeing to a date with Connor Cobalt meant.
Gripping the doorknob tightly, she yanked open the door. "I hope you know I'm not letting you kiss me on our first date, Richard," she said in her iciest tone. Don't let him win, Rose.
Connor's grin was blinding. He unabashedly stared at her, taking in the length of her body, then going back up and settling on her eyes. "You look gorgeous, Rose," he said, his deep voice turning her core molten.
Cursing her traitorous body, Rose squared her shoulders. She kept her back ramrod straight and quickly skimmed Connor's six-foot-four build, careful to keep her expression blank. Do not betray me again, body.
Connor's expression was like the one he'd worn when Faust had beaten Dalton academy at Model UN for the second year in a row. Triumphant. Conceited. It made her blood boil, heat rising to her cheeks, and the harder she glared, the more Connor's eyes darkened, his grin stretching wider.
She shut the door close without another word and walked past him towards his limo, her heels clicking on the pavement. Maybe she even swayed her hips a little. Maybe.
Her dark blue dress reached just below her knees, the silky fabric hugging her body just right. Not too tight, not too loose. Paired with black heels and minimal jewelry, the outfit would give her the right amount of confidence to get through the evening. You're Rose motherfucking Cobalt. Do not. Let. Connor Cobalt. Win.
If years ago someone had told Rose she'd end up on a date with Connor Cobalt, she would have stabbed him with one of her heels. Now, Rose was glad fate had made hers and Connor's paths cross again. At first, she hadn't believed it, but Connor's feelings for Lily and Loren were real, his friendship genuine. There was nothing in it for him. No reward, no benefit, only friendship, and companionship.
The night was going surprisingly well. Not that she'd ever tell Connor that. She'd never admit that she was enjoying the date or that she didn't mind sitting so close to Connor, his manly scent enveloping her when he shifted in his seat.
He hadn't tried to touch her, but his arm around the back of her seat was enough to cause her body to react in ways she tried not to dwell on.
The Tempest was as moving as she remembered, but her focus wasn't entirely on the stage, not when she kept stealing glances at Connor. Strong jaw, full lips, those blue blue eyes. And, of course, his horrible hair. He had opted for a dark blue suit, white button-up, and, surprisingly, no tie. Rose had to admit the ensemble didn't look half bad on him. He looked exactly like he was worth: billions. That's not an attractive look, Rose. Stop looking.
Connor was way more unabashed about his staring. Rose was 85% sure he had spent more time looking at her than at the stage. Strangely, instead of making her nervous, the way he looked at her made her feel powerful. His eyes seemed to say you're the only one I want there, sitting beside me. Translation: you're irreplaceable.
As Miranda approached Ferdinand, Rose felt Connor lean close to her, his warm breath tickling her skin, his citrusy scent enveloping her.
"I am your wife, if you will marry me," he whispered in her ear, quoting the play by heart. "If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow.
You may deny me, but I'll be your servant
Whether you will or not."
When he finished, he didn't lean back. Chest rising and felling rapidly, Rose slowly turned her head, and yellow-green met blue. This close, Rose could see Connor's long lashes, the freckle right above his left eyebrow, and the even smaller one on his right cheekbone. "It's a beautiful quote, isn't it?" Connor murmured.
"Personally, I'd replace the word maid with the word equal," Rose whispered back, sounding more breathless than she would have liked. "But yes, it's a beautiful quote."
Time seemed to slow down, the tension thick and heavy. Connor glanced at Rose's mouth, his tongue wetting his lips-
And then he looked away, leaning back in his seat.
Cold hair hit Rose's skin, and she pulled her shoulders back, sitting straighter as she drilled a hole between Connor's eyes. "What was that, Richard?" she hissed.
Connor rubbed his lips to hide his grin. "You said no kiss on our first date, Rose. I'm only respecting your terms."
Rose scoffed, her neck stiff. "You're the most unpleasant, aggravating person I've ever been on a date with. And who says there will be another date after this one?"
There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in Connor's eyes when he said, "There will be another date, Rose."
Translation: I never lose.