"Thanks for sending me home, Ronan," Amelia said with a sigh as they stood in the elevator. The climb to the penthouse seemed awfully slow, and Amelia wished it could only be slower.
"They should be done with dinner by now," Ronan said, checking his wristwatch. "Emmeline Hawthorne has a rather strict schedule set by her mother. She goes to sleep before ten every night. She wouldn't stay out too late."
"Oh, I am not worried about dinner," Amelia said. She then muttered bitterly under her breath, mildly in disgust. "I am worried we might walk into them having dessert."
Ronan, who had caught her little mumble, merely pursed his lips tightly together. He chose not to comment on the topic, allowing Amelia to vent all she wanted. He wasn't in any place to say anything, and while he understood that Amelia and Matteo's relationship was contractual, she still had her pride.
