“What are you doing here, Kieran?” I ask as I gesture to the bartender to fetch me another round. “I thought I made it clear how I felt about your… ambitions.”
“It’s been three weeks,” he says cheerfully. “We’ve both had time to stew on it. I’m sure there’s room for a compromise in there somewhere, right?”
A compromise? “Meaning what, exactly? I agree to let you own some of me?”
He laughs. “I don’t think we need to get into the minutia right this second. Why don’t we have a little fun first?”
“Fun,” I repeat, eyeing him suspiciously. “I didn’t peg you for a clubber.”
“Normally not,” he agrees, leaning forward. “But if it means getting to dance with the hottest woman in the club, I’ll make an exception.”
I do look good tonight—the one saving grace about this otherwise humiliating inte
