"You should rest."
"Oh, come on," Riven insisted, circling around the desk to loom over him. "It'll be an hour at most. I'll be perfectly fine."
Ronan's jaw tensed. "It will take longer."
"How much longer?"
"…It will take…" Ronan hesitated. Truth be told, the meeting would take an hour at best—but there was no way he'd admit that. Not when the idea of Raphael's golden gaze landing on Riven—his Riven—made him feel murderous. "…Well into midnight."
Riven blinked again, slowly realising he'd won. He watched Ronan's frown deepen, watched the flicker of annoyance cross his handsome face.
"Midnight, really?" he asked innocently.
"Yes," Ronan he said firmly, but at the same time sounded uncertain.
"…So you're saying I'd be stuck sitting there until then?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Well…fine, then," Riven said, trying not to grin. "I suppose I'll stay here."
Ronan looked momentarily pleased with himself for having so decisively shut him down.
Riven only smiled wider.
Step two: complete.
