09-06-2022, 08:56 PM
She laughed a little, mostly to herself, and watched as he perambled the space, moving in and out of the lines of shadow. The twinkling orbs above did not elucidate much of the detail around them, but she made no attempt to make the task easier for him. “Ought I to swoon?” she asked dryly. There was a scathe to her tone; not at the probability he was manipulating her in turn, but at the suggestion that a little earnest simplicity would be the thing to blindside her: like she was some soft-hearted damsel.
“Is that what you have decided my intentions are? That I’m building a legacy?” The curiosity was genuine, but the question posed only idly, his answer presumed. She’d given him no real reason to think otherwise afterall, but Adrian hadn’t earned those answers from her. She considered it, briefly, but she did not think a strike at bloodied honesty would be likely to draw anything else from him now. Natalie might take meaningless risks, but not ones likely to bite her later, as this one surely would. Her motivations were snarled in bitterness. Impotence lit a desire for retribution in her blood. Against who, or what, was still in flux.
She shifted. Her hands laced, a picture of demurity, if not for the tilt of her chin.
“If hard cash is truly the only thing you want from me, then you may submit a quote for the renovations – or whatever other services you might broker – and I will consider it along with the rest. The job will necessitate some speed. There will be some specific requirements.” It was somewhat a bluff; she did not want to rely on family funds, though it would not be difficult; her mother would hardly object to the endeavour, but she might want more involvement than Natalie desired. That could be managed too, if it had to be, but it was stubborn pride more than anything that pushed her to the more difficult path.
Meanwhile Adrian stood with his arms folded, waiting. The challenge scratched at something under the surface, and she was not sure what feeling it disturbed, but his stance demanded a subjugation she was not prepared to give. Did he expect her to beg? She tipped a dismissive shoulder in answer: he had what he wanted, if he wished it. Still, her level gaze did not break away, and her interest had not faded; it wouldn’t, unless he retreated first.
“We can play the game a little longer, I won't object, but I think you are growing bored. I presumed you followed me because I am a Northbrook. Or because I am a Grey. It’s why everyone does, Adrian. Old blood, or tainted blood, both draw sharks.” Her opinions on the reality of that were held behind a carefully neutral expression. “So I am asking: what is it you do want out of me?”
“Is that what you have decided my intentions are? That I’m building a legacy?” The curiosity was genuine, but the question posed only idly, his answer presumed. She’d given him no real reason to think otherwise afterall, but Adrian hadn’t earned those answers from her. She considered it, briefly, but she did not think a strike at bloodied honesty would be likely to draw anything else from him now. Natalie might take meaningless risks, but not ones likely to bite her later, as this one surely would. Her motivations were snarled in bitterness. Impotence lit a desire for retribution in her blood. Against who, or what, was still in flux.
She shifted. Her hands laced, a picture of demurity, if not for the tilt of her chin.
“If hard cash is truly the only thing you want from me, then you may submit a quote for the renovations – or whatever other services you might broker – and I will consider it along with the rest. The job will necessitate some speed. There will be some specific requirements.” It was somewhat a bluff; she did not want to rely on family funds, though it would not be difficult; her mother would hardly object to the endeavour, but she might want more involvement than Natalie desired. That could be managed too, if it had to be, but it was stubborn pride more than anything that pushed her to the more difficult path.
Meanwhile Adrian stood with his arms folded, waiting. The challenge scratched at something under the surface, and she was not sure what feeling it disturbed, but his stance demanded a subjugation she was not prepared to give. Did he expect her to beg? She tipped a dismissive shoulder in answer: he had what he wanted, if he wished it. Still, her level gaze did not break away, and her interest had not faded; it wouldn’t, unless he retreated first.
“We can play the game a little longer, I won't object, but I think you are growing bored. I presumed you followed me because I am a Northbrook. Or because I am a Grey. It’s why everyone does, Adrian. Old blood, or tainted blood, both draw sharks.” Her opinions on the reality of that were held behind a carefully neutral expression. “So I am asking: what is it you do want out of me?”