Yesterday, 12:16 AM
Adrian tilted his head like a man watching the final act of a play he’d already seen a dozen times. The corner of his mouth curved in reaction, not quite a smirk, but enough to suggest he wasn’t giving her an inch more than he wanted to.
“You didn’t stab her with your heel, so I’ll mark it a success,” he said, voice pitched just low enough for only her to hear. “Very diplomatic. Very charming.”
His eyes didn’t leave hers. Still unreadable, still infuriatingly calm. She knew he was assessing her, in the same way she’d been assessing Jessika. Tallying strengths. Testing for cracks. Admiring, maybe, but not in the way that made anyone feel safe.
“Ready to go?” he asked after another moment, his tone too neutral to be casual and too dry to be anything but mildly amused.
They didn’t rush. That wasn’t their style. Together, they weaved back into the flow of the ballroom exchanging parting pleasantries, letting each farewell linger just long enough to imply importance. Adrian handled his portion of the room with the kind of languid arrogance only he could make look elegant. A few of his goodbyes earned longer glances than strictly necessary.
When they finally reached the car, the cold was a bracing relief. The air outside was sharp and silent in a way the ballroom never could be. Adrian opened the door for her, all polished gallantry, but his glance as she slid inside held the same speculative glint it always did like he was still deciding whether she’d proven something, or revealed something.
Maybe both.
“You didn’t stab her with your heel, so I’ll mark it a success,” he said, voice pitched just low enough for only her to hear. “Very diplomatic. Very charming.”
His eyes didn’t leave hers. Still unreadable, still infuriatingly calm. She knew he was assessing her, in the same way she’d been assessing Jessika. Tallying strengths. Testing for cracks. Admiring, maybe, but not in the way that made anyone feel safe.
“Ready to go?” he asked after another moment, his tone too neutral to be casual and too dry to be anything but mildly amused.
They didn’t rush. That wasn’t their style. Together, they weaved back into the flow of the ballroom exchanging parting pleasantries, letting each farewell linger just long enough to imply importance. Adrian handled his portion of the room with the kind of languid arrogance only he could make look elegant. A few of his goodbyes earned longer glances than strictly necessary.
When they finally reached the car, the cold was a bracing relief. The air outside was sharp and silent in a way the ballroom never could be. Adrian opened the door for her, all polished gallantry, but his glance as she slid inside held the same speculative glint it always did like he was still deciding whether she’d proven something, or revealed something.
Maybe both.