Louisa held his gaze for a long moment.
The room felt smaller than it had a moment ago. The silence between his words and her response stretched itself out, and in that stretch she was aware of her own heartbeat in a way she had not been before.
Something was moving through her that she did not have a clean name for.
It was not quite anger and it was not quite anticipation and not even the cold strategic calculation she had walked in here wearing like armor.
It was something that lived in the space between all three of those things.
She stood.
Her movements were unhurried and graceful, because she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rush.
She rounded the table and came to a stop directly in front of him, close enough that the hem of her skirt nearly grazed his knee.
She looked down at him.
"Is this what you wanted?"
Julian looked up at her, his expression still calm, but his eyes had gone dark.
"Not yet," he said softly.
