Seeing two wine glasses on a small wooden table in front of a cheerful fire makes it clear what Nolan expects to happen here. For us to have a date.
One of his enforcers must have told him women love wine in front of a fire. This must be his idea of romancing me.
Nolan lifts a glass and meets my eyes. He nods at the chair opposite. "Sit. Drink."
"I'm pregnant," I remind him. "Pregnant women don't drink."
His faint smile doesn't budge. "One glass won't kill you. Sit. Now."
Since his request is nothing less than an order, I stalk over to the chair before dropping heavily into it. That's all I do. Just sit.
So much for the romance.
"Drink."
"No, thanks."
He gestures at the small dishes of fruit and crackers with cheese. "Then eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're losing weight. You need to eat."
