“Yes,” I said.
Draven Vescari stayed in his chair.
My answer had been too quick to disguise as anything sensible. I could have made a joke. I could have asked how many room inspections he had escaped by sitting here.
Instead, I looked at his mouth.
“Though I thought you might just be accustomed to staring at people until they explain themselves.”
“I am.”
“That makes it difficult to tell.”
“Would you prefer a written notice?”
“No.”
The necklace lay on the table between the water glass and my elbow. I shifted my arm away from it.
His gaze caught the movement.
“We don’t have to do anything about it,” he said.
“I know.”
“Good.”
That quiet answer irritated me more than persuasion would have.
I wanted him to want something enough to lose the ease with which he sat there. I wanted
