The meal was perfect.
I don't say that lightly.
I'd been fed by some of the best chefs in the world, and yet somehow, Maeve managed to outdo them all.
Not that I'd ever admit that out loud—her ego was already unbearable.
I leaned back in my chair, sighing in satisfaction. "Alright. I'm full. You can stop trying to seduce me through food now."
Maeve arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. "Who said I was trying to seduce you?"
I snorted. "Oh, please. This was a full-on, calculated attack. The candles, the music, the perfectly cooked meal? You're practically throwing yourself at me."
Maeve smirked. "And if I was?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Then I'd be worried. Because it means you've got something else planned."
Her smirk widened. "Maybe I do."
I stared at her for a second. Then, slowly, I crossed my arms. "What did you do?"