A massive four poster bed dominated the center of the room, draped in deep crimson and gold silks that looked soft enough to sink into and forget the world entirely. Heavy velvet curtains framed a large panoramic window that offered a breathtaking view of the castle’s private gardens below.

But what truly caught Julian’s attention was not the bed or the view.

It was the elegant table positioned near the window.

Two ornate chairs faced each other, angled just close enough that whoever sat in them would find it difficult to pretend the intimate distance between them did not exist.

On the surface of the table sat a bottle of deep red wine, already uncorked. Beside it, two crystal wine cups caught the light from the window, glittering like they had been waiting there for exactly this moment.

Louisa closed the door behind them with a soft click.

The sound echoed briefly in the warm, enclosed air of the room before dissolving into silence.

She turned to face him.

"Do you like it?" she asked, gesturing gracefully around the room with one hand. "This used to be one of my private retreats when I first married into the family. Very few people know it exists."

She paused, watching his reaction before continuing.

"We can speak freely here. Without anyone listening."

She walked toward the table as she spoke, her hips swaying seductively with each step. She reached it, lifted the wine bottle, and poured two generous glasses with the ease of someone entirely comfortable being watched.

"Come, sit," she said, placing one glass in front of the chair opposite hers and gesturing to it with a graceful tilt of her hand. "We have much to talk about, don’t we?"

Julian moved to the table without hurry, his eyes taking in the room one final time before he settled into the chair. He accepted the glass she held out toward him, and their fingers brushed lightly in the exchange.

Louisa took her own seat across from him, crossing her legs slowly so that the slit in her skirt parted even further.

For a moment, no one spoke.

The silence in the room was the particular kind that had weight to it, broken only by the steady pendulum of the clock mounted on the far wall and the soft rhythm of their breathing.

Julian’s posture was entirely at ease. He seemed genuinely curious about how she would move forward. He could feel her calculating across the table, feel the machinery of her mind turning behind those composed, watchful eyes.

As he had expected, she was thinking deeply.

When she finally arrived at whatever conclusion she had been working toward, she broke the silence without ceremony.

"What really happened in Ezakael?" she asked.

The question came out clean and direct, without any attempt to soften it or approach it from a safer angle first.

Julian smiled.

"You are rather direct, Aunty," he replied, his tone light but carrying something faintly amused beneath it. "I thought you would take some other route before arriving there."

Louisa chuckled softly. She reached for her glass, took a small sip, and set it back down.

"Why even pretend, right dear?" she said, her voice carrying the particular confidence of someone who has played enough games to know when to stop playing them. "It is not as though you don’t know why I am here. Pretending would only waste both of our time."

Julian raised an eyebrow, and for once the surprise on his face was genuine.

She was an interesting specimen.

Most people who engaged in this kind of game preferred to keep it running as long as possible, squeezing every last drop of performance from each exchange. Louisa had simply set the game aside entirely. That alone required a particular kind of confidence that was difficult to manufacture.

"Well," he admitted, "you are right."

And then, just as those words finished settling, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes.

"I would love to talk," he continued, his voice dropping just a register lower, "but I am not motivated right now."

His gaze dropped deliberately to her neckline and stayed there.

She was sitting upright now, which made it a somewhat less generous view than it had been moments ago, but he made no effort whatsoever to conceal where his attention had settled. He simply looked, with the ease of a man who had decided that pretense was beneath him.

The effect on Louisa was immediate.

Genuine surprise moved across her face before she could fully contain it. She had walked into this room prepared for careful wordplay, for the familiar dance of implication and misdirection conducted behind smiles and veiled meanings. Instead he was sitting across from her and looking at her with undisguised interest, as though he had simply decided the performance was not worth the effort.

Her mind moved quickly.

Was what Cathy said really true? Does he really carry those particular attachments to the women of the family?

She gathered herself, though the faint flush already climbing the line of her neck betrayed her before she could fully suppress it. She shifted slightly in her seat, adjusting her posture in a way that was subtle enough to seem unconscious but calculated enough to cause her breasts to press more noticeably against the tight fabric of her corset.

"I see," she murmured.

Her voice had taken on a slightly huskier quality.

"Then perhaps I should try to motivate you."

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.

The position did exactly what she intended.

The neckline of her corset offered him a much clearer and more generous view of the soft curves beneath. The pendant of her necklace rested perfectly in the valley between her breasts, catching the light in a way that seemed almost designed to pull the eye exactly where she wanted it.

She held the position without any self-consciousness whatsoever, her eyes lifting to meet his directly.

"Tell me, Kraven," she said, "does this motivate you?"