Ronan couldn't decide if he liked Stacia more or less now. His opinion of her had become a seesaw, tilting with each word, and then it fell with a thump when she started really asking questions.

There was always something unnerving about a person calling you out for your carefully maintained appearance. So what if that was exactly what Ronan wanted to project? You didn't just say it.

You're scarier than I expected. He couldn't push the words out of his mind.

Ronan's face before had indicated someone who was in a state of constant anger. But that was just his face. Now his lips thinned and his jaw tightened. Ronan stared at Stacia. His gaze wasn't icy (yet), but it was cold. "Figure it out yourself."