‘That was fun,’ she said. She felt good, buzzing with a touch of champagne, her toes pleasantly sore from hours of dancing. ‘Yeah,’ he said, with a slightly bemused smile. ‘I know.’ The elevator doors slid open, and Ruby stepped out, her boot heels loud on the foyer’s marble floor. A lamp on a spindly-legged side table glowed softly, only partially lighting the room. But two steps later, she stopped dead. ‘Where am I sleeping?’ Dev laughed behind her, and Ruby turned to look at him. He’d propped his shoulders against the wallpaper beside the shiny elevator door, and he looked at her with a sparkle to his eyes. He pointed at the floor. ‘I booked you a suite on the floor below.’ ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked. But the narrowing of her eyes was more a habit now. At some point he’d stopped being quite so irritating. Come to think of it, for at least half the night—more if she disregarded the whole favour debacle—he’d been quite the opposite.
