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“Twenty-five, why?” she asked.
“I’m thirty-five,” he said. “So, that means that my father secured an infant bride for me when I was ten.”
“Technically, I wasn’t yet an infant. It was more like your father promised you an embryo when you were ten.” She couldn’t help but giggle when he scrunched up his face in disgust. “Yeah—it’s kind of gross, right?”
“More than kind of gross. It’s disturbing,” he admitted.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about honoring the promise that our father’s made for our families to join. They’ll just have to find another way to get our families together—I’ve got a ton of cousins who might suit you better,” she teased.
Adriel drank down the rest of her brandy and put her glass back on the bar. “I’ve said everything that I need to say. Thank you for your time, Mr. Garo,” she said, holding out her hand to him.
He took it and kissed the back of it, ever the gentleman. “Edon,” he reminded.
“Edon,” she whispered, pulling her hand free from his grasp.
“Good seeing you again, Miss Tirana,” he sweetly said.
“You too, Edon. And it’s Adriel.” She turned to walk back down the hallway to the waiting elevator. She stepped on and turned back to find him standing beside the door. Edon nodded to her, and she returned the gesture, wondering if he was always so polite or if he was just putting on a show for her. Either way, she figured that she had dodged a bullet by not having dinner with Edon Garo tonight.
