Rachel nodded at his rejection of food, but at his request for a tip off, she got the coffee pot and pour him a cup. She was feeling a lot better now and was thinking she might need to get checked for bipolar disorder. She hasn’t changed that fast since before Iason had healed her, and before that there had been a reason. Most of the people she spent time with also knew how to respond to her. Adrian did not. It still didn’t stop her from feeling embarrassed.
”No I haven’t, she said, walking back to replace the coffee pot and flip her bacon. ”It was already supposed to be not great, so getting worse sounds a little ominous. I’ll have to check on Em.”
Rachel flipped the eggs too. They were almost done, so she would only have to wait on the bacon. She then walked to the window to take a look out. There was a car near the building and a woman stepped out. A driver brought her bags inside.
”Yeah it’s already looking pretty bad out. And someone is here. A woman - wealthy for sure. Do you know if we’re expecting anyone else?”
Adrian barely glanced up from the wallet at Rachel’s mention of the worsening weather, dismissing the heavy snowfall as a nuisance rather than an immediate crisis. He offered a polite, reassuring smile to set her at ease and lightly tapped to power down the screens.
"Finish your breakfast, Rachel," Adrian murmured smoothly. "Let me see if I can find out who just braved the storm to get in here.”
He stepped out of the breakfast room, leaving the quiet comfort of the kitchen behind as he crossed into the vast, echoing silence of the inner corridors. Belizna was immense, a sprawling labyrinth of solid stone floors and soaring ceilings. He rounded the final heavy archway just as Colette was shedding her snow-dusted outerwear by the primary double doors.
Through the dim, leaden twilight filtering in through the clerestory windows, the posture, the unmistakable air of confidence, and the sharp, refined scent of high-end perfume instantly wired his nervous system. Adrian slowed his pace, every instinct sharpening with a sixth sense recognition. As she turned, the dim light caught the sharp angle of her jaw and the familiar, composed set of her features. Colette Moreau.
A sudden jolt shot through him, instantly chased by a heavy, visceral drop in his stomach. The realization dragged up weeks of suppressed dissonance. This was the woman who had somehow wormed her way past his defenses, only to casually dismantle his carefully constructed evening at the Vasilev anniversary.
Deep inside the polished veneer of his conscious mind, a dark, coiling current surged to life. The memory flashed unbidden: the hours of flawless patience he had lavished on her, the doors he held, the glittering circles he had unlocked for her benefit, all the while treating her like absolute royalty only for her to turn at the door of his own establishment and offer that quiet, dismissive flicker of judgment before slamming the door in his face.
She had spurned him. After the theatrics of a perfect performance, she had looked at him like he was something unpleasant stuck to her shoe.
A cold, familiar heat prickled behind his eyes. He didn't smile, but the muscles around his mouth tightened into something blank and smooth. He remembered the promise he had made in that hotel corridor, the subsequent weeks he had spent sinking into her sleeping mind, slowly, methodically reshaping her subconscious architecture, twisting her dreams until he was sure regret tasted like ash on her tongue. And now, here she was, waltzing straight into Natalie’s sanctuary.
A deeply contradictory wave of emotion washed over him. It was a toxic cocktail of attraction mixed with cold-blooded animosity. She looked breathtaking, her crisp elegance entirely unruffled by the brutal weather outside or somehow enhanced by it, and every fiber of his being simultaneously wanted to pull her close and utterly break her composure. He would find so much satisfaction in forcing her to relive every second of that rejection until she begged to make it right.
He adjusted his cuffs to purchase a few seconds for a shift in his psyche to transfer, and a razor-thin smile finally touched the corners of his mouth as he stepped fully out of the shadows and into her line of sight. Let her think it was a coincidence. Let her think he was just another friendly face welcoming her to the estate. His every attention was focused on interpreting the micro expressions of her reaction in order to use them against her.
"Colette,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a smooth, resonant cadence that cut cleanly through the emptiness of the foyer. "I wouldn't have expected to find you buried out here at the edge of the world. Though I suppose bad weather has a way of forcing unnatural circumstances.”
The breath caught in Colette’s chest, freezing her mid-stride as the smooth, resonant cadence of a familiar voice cut through the air.
Adrian?
For a jarring second, her mind scrambled to reconcile the sophisticated, sprawling luxury of Belizna with the man standing before her. She had expected Natalie, or perhaps an estate manager, or even a staff-person. She certainly hadn’t expected him.
Her pulse spiked and heat flushed her cheeks despite the bitter draft still swirling from her entrance indoors. Memories she had tried to bury, rationalize, and shake off of late collided all at once. She remembered the effortless charm, the way his eyes had held hers on the dance floor, and the sting of parting ways at her hotel room door. The way she had shut him out with a polite, final dismissal. And then, unbidden, came the ghosts of nights since then.
A shadow of unease ghosted over her expression. The strange, repeating architecture of those vivid, maddening dreams spirited across recent memory. She went from waking up in cold sweats, half-convinced her own mind was staging a mutiny, haunted by a version of him that felt far too real to now not being entirely sure how she felt about him anymore. The absolute certainty she’d had on the night of the masquerade had been that he was simply the most striking man in the room had curdled into something much more complex.
Colette caught herself and forced her jaw to relax, smoothing her features into a mask of pristine, unbothered composure as she turned fully to face him. She adjusted the lapel of her coat, letting a slow smile erupt over her lips. If he thought she was going to look rattled, he had another thing coming.
"Adrian," she echoed, her voice carrying that effortless, melodic amusement that masked a frantic fluttering beneath her ribs. She took a deliberate step closer, letting her gaze sweep over him, taking in the tailored fit of his clothes and the calm confidence radiating off his frame. He had seemed entirely safe, almost disarmingly so, right up until the moment he didn't. That lingering shadow of danger clung to him now, as real as it had been on the threshold of her room. She was suddenly grateful for the cashmere sweater beneath her coat, but it felt too thin even now.
Despite the instinct, that earlier attraction flared instantly, hot and undeniable, but came with a warning to be careful. This time, she kept her distance behind a shield of measured, glittering warmth.
"Well, you certainly have a talent for appearing where you're least expected,” Colette said, tilting her head with a light, teasing edge to her tone, though her eyes remained sharp as she tested the waters.
"Though considering the state of the roads out there, I'm beginning to wonder if the storm trapped you here, or if you simply materialized out of the blizzard just to keep me company.”
Adrian head out to figure out what was going on up front and to greet their new guest. Rachel shrugged and began to eat her food. She ate quickly - another quirk from her time with Lucio. Emily was usually good at telling her to slow down, but Emily wasn’t here. Rachel put her dishes in the sink and began to wash them, leaving them to dry in the rack.
Rachel didn’t think Adrian liked her very much. He didn’t treat her badly or rudely. It was just that he saw her freak out. That could be a lot for anyone. She’d be as polite as she could though and do what she could to keep her moments at bay.
It was for that reason she found a space on the floor to sit cross-legged. She began her breathing exercises. Deep breath in and then out. This would help her fully recover from her episode and should prepare her for being okay for the rest of the day. Breathe in the good energy and exhale the bad.
She thought then of the river. If she was going to do this, she might as well practice embracing the power. The river was there - calm and gentle. Rachel lay in her back, floating. It pushed her and she allowed it to take her where it wanted. Rachel found the light there, and allowed herself to be filled with it. She smiled then as she felt it flowing through her. The power was always very calming. She pulled no threads - not yet - she simply existed in that time. She kept breathing. Everything was going to be okay.
The truck shuddered and made popped its way down the road. The creature hitting it in rage had done something to the engine. Olivier hoped that at the very least they could get close enough to the large building before it died. The snow was really coming done.
The kids had fallen asleep. The ordeal at their house had kept them awake and for the first time since the attack they had fallen asleep. Even the oldest, Pavel, had his head leaned against the window of the car. His broken arm still in the sling and makeshift splint. The did could use a doctor - but they weren’t going to make it that far. At least his bones weren’t shattered. It should heal okay - should.
They passed fencing and a sign that marked the place as a construction area. They were close now. Close enough that Olivier wasn’t worried about getting there. Hopefully the structure was sound enough that it wouldn’t fall apart on their heads. He sighed as they got to the front entrance and the truck gave a final wheeze and died. Well - they made it.
Olivier shook Pavel’s shoulder, being mindful of his injury. He shook his head and awoke without complaint. ”We’re here,” he said, indicating the castle.
Pavel nodded and began to wake his siblings. Olivier got out of the vehicle and grabbed his bow although he didn’t hold it ready. He put it around his body with the string holding it across his chest. The older kids got some of their supplies and Olivier grabbed a bag as well. Pavel with only one good arm held Alicia by the hand who was rubbing sleep from her eyes.
They entered to find they were not alone. A man and a woman were there, dressed finely. They were both from wealth. That was obvious. The kids tensed a bit, but relaxed at seeing they were human. The woman Olivier didn’t know, but the man was familiar.
”Mr. Kane,” he said, a smile touching the corner of his lips. ”Have I found myself at another one of your hotels? I’d like to book a room or two.” he looked briefly towards the kids who just looked glad to not be outside or in a house falling apart around them.
Months of hard work were finally beginning to culminate in something tangible, but as the world around her grew, Natalie felt little of it. Michael Vellas had proved an interesting encounter, and ultimately he had given her what she needed – with stipulations, of course. Something subtle in his manner had suggested they were of a similar mind when it came to contingency, making the concessions easier to accept despite the risks of the alliance. Not long after, another Dominion had made a request that left her with an additional charge, though she had flatly pointed out there was little she could do to help him. Neither could she quite bring herself to turn him away, though.
Rachel Shale had accepted the offer to move in and assist with the renovations, and with Emily and Zhenya's guidance, she was making slow progress in both learning and healing. Natalie’s networks continued to grow organically. More recently, a meeting with Colette Moreau had kept the door to Evelyn's influence ajar, with an open invitation to explore Belizna for herself at her convenience. In Colette's reactions especially, Natalie had witnessed the idea truly spreading its own wings for the first time. Watching her enthusiasm over a business lunch, even she had begun to wonder if this was something she might be able to believe in.
Everything was progressing the way it was supposed to.
That really should have been enough.
Belizna was an idea born in tragedy, shaped to life inside dilapidated castle walls, and forged from the bones of nothing by a partnership made on not much more than the turn of a whim. It should have left her feeling accomplished. Excited, even. This was a future she had made with her own two hands, rather than one she had spent years trying to escape. Yet in the rare quiet moments she allowed herself, satisfaction was never what she found waiting there.
Perhaps that was why she kept herself so busy.
The announcement of Adrian's inspection wasn't unexpected now that his investment had taken shape, though she had been dryly amused when he made it plain he intended to stay a while, given how hands-off their business relationship had been. Not that she had any complaints. The speed and craftsmanship of the work were exactly what she had stipulated, and more than she could have expected; the ship he ran was beyond efficient. His people were easy to work with, too, nonplussed by the long and sometimes unusual hours Natalie kept. It had certainly made things smoother. There was no fanfare to his reception of him, but neither was he unwelcome.
She habitually rose early, and turned in late. Softer routines were always the first things to disappear when Natalie was focused, and focus for her was usually sparked by frustration. Beyond the necessary affairs of Belizna, she sank hours into the dead-end lead of the necklace Toma had given her, searching for whoever had instigated the break-in. There had been no call from London, or at least none concerning the apartment, which meant Toma had inexplicably failed to report it. Natalie might have confronted her, but the woman was more seldom around these days.
Jay was distant too, fallen back into old patterns of avoidance that left Natalie feeling diminished. Yet the wound it pressed on had worn down to a familiar callous by now. She grieved in private sometimes, and accepted that the spark she cradled was simply not enough to sustain itself. Not with everything that had happened. He was alive, and that mattered more than any softer emotion inside. Neither was he drowning every night in whatever might take the edge off. Natalie would ensure he survived, whether he wanted her to or not, and if she had to do that from the distance he created, so be it. The walls were already built; Natalie had spent half her life that way. Maybe the purpose made it hurt less. Or maybe not. She didn’t allow herself the introspection.
Then there were the phone calls.
Late at night, most often, and usually from the American lawyers. The Carpenter estate was settled, but the matter of the mystery Trust remained. For a brief moment it had seemed they might concede her authority, or at least answer her questions about it, only to suddenly turn about now and slam the bars down completely. She had no idea what had caused the reversal, but since she was leaning heavily on bullshit and her family name, she could hardly be surprised. Threat of legal action had been floated in their last communication. Which meant she really needed to speak to Jay before it landed her in actual trouble. Only, she'd wanted to have something in the way of answers before she did. He might think he was fooling the world, but the cracks were palpable. The last thing she wanted was to fracture them deeper with some life-upending revelation she couldn't even be sure was true.
She hadn’t seen him that morning. She rarely did, though she often enough heard about the rounds he made across the grounds. The work crews liked him and found him useful in equal measure; he was that sort of man, to catch attention. Usually she would have been out by now herself, rather than nursing a cold and unfinished coffee in the room they shared, but she’d just ended an impossibly frustrating and expected phonecall with Helena Asquith. Anger simmered behind her expression as she processed the complication. She was utterly still, face like glass, entirely braced inwards. After a moment she slammed a hand down on the piano keys, grit her teeth, and stood. The discordant vibration lingered. Natalie sat on the bench often enough, though she never played. It was the only outlet she allowed herself before everything smoothed away. Another problem to shelve and battle later – one look at the window told her she wasn’t making it to the city today. And she wanted to speak to Helena in person.
A waiting message from Colette said she was battling the snows, too close now to head back into Moscow, which Natalie acknowledged with a reply. But before she headed down to the entrance foyer she would need to speak to the foreman. Nothing in the forecast had suggested problematic weather, but if it was changing as rapidly as it now seemed, she needed to check in with them. It was enough to draw her back into the present. She took another small moment, smoothed the hair from her temple, and slipped the wallet in a back pocket before she headed for the door.