Tales of Darkness & Sin - Pepper Winters Page 0,141

at the rest of him, I decided there was nothing spectacular about him. With foppish blond curls spiraling haphazardly into an open, earnest face eclipsed by eyes as blue and delicate as Spode china, he was fairly handsome, but not enough for me to take a second look at.

Particularly as I didn’t make it a habit to look twice at any man.

I narrowed my gaze at those flapping, animated hands as he dithered on about the importance of historical preservation and decided that regardless of his ridiculousness, he really did have beautiful fingers.

“There really is no reasonable way to defer the archaeological mitigation of such a large site, particularly when the Roman settlement of Londinium was a mere two kilometers away… Excuse me, Prime Minister, but are you listening to a word I say?” Tobias Talbot-Ullswater’s bright voice broke through my ennui and roped me back into the conversation that should have ended as soon as it began.

“I’ve heard you quite well,” I assured him. “In order that the football area for the new Kings Cross United team be built on the proposed site, you need six to unforetold months to properly survey the site, which will cost the government and unwitting taxpayers to spend millions of pounds on this project. I hear you, Mr. Talbot-Ullswater, but you have said nothing to convince me this isn’t a waste of time and money. The Battle Bridge Stadium stands to bring the city enormous economic growth, not to mention a neighborhood that fell into significant disrepair in the 19th and 20th centuries. We do not want to hinder or, God forbid, completely arrest the project based on your guess that there might be some bones of some kind beneath the ground.”

I arched a brow coolly as I leaned back in my chair and crossed one foot over the other knee. My best mate, Alexander, called it my ‘affected professorial posture,’ but I didn’t let him teasing deter me in its use.

I found it intimidated people into getting to the point or getting out of my sight entirely.

It seemed to have the opposite effect on Mr. Talbot-Ullswater, who braced his feet farther apart and crossed his arms over his pastel pink paisley button-up.

“I am not here to waste your time, Your Excellency,” he said with a sweet smile masking his mawkish tone. “The issue of archaeological survey at the proposed site in Kings Cross is crucial to maintaining the history of the area. No! Of the city itself.”

“I wonder, Mr. Talbot-Ullswater,” I mused. “Are you always this dramatic? If so, it must be a characteristic of your age.”

Mona, my senior advisor and friend of twenty years, stirred in her seat beside me. It was an innocuous movement, but I knew she was startled by my show of personality and the simple fact that I’d let this meeting continue beyond the allotted five minutes.

I was efficient, calculated, and stern.

Not immature and irascible as I was now.

Something about the bratty cast of Talbot-Ullswater’s full, dimpled bottom lip irked me irrationally.

“I highly doubt you were ever anything close to dramatic,” he countered easily. “You’d have to be somewhat animated to manage that, and clearly…” He tossed his hand in the air as if the idea of me that way was utter rubbish he was throwing in the bin.

“That’s the first clever thing I’ve heard you say this morning,” I countered, idly adjusting the angle of the iron Barbary lion paperweight on my desk so it was precisely perpendicular to my computer on its leather matt. “Perhaps, in the remaining two minutes I’ll allot you, you might endeavor to continue in that same manner.”

“There is nothing clever about erecting a monolithic structure on the grounds of what could be a massive archaeological discovery.” There was a flush in his cheeks now, rose petals trapped beneath white wax that was oddly becoming.

“We have invested over twenty-one billion pounds in transportation infrastructure at King’s Cross. Placing the new stadium there is an obvious choice both in economic value and ease. Football spectators can catch the tube to St. Pancras Station and be seated in the new Battle Bridge arena in five minutes.”

“Of course, it goes without saying that the easiest option is always the wisest,” he snarked, fisting his hands on his hips.

The robotic tune of a ringtone cut through the rising tension.

“Excuse me,” Mona said, tucking a springy lock of her black hair behind her ear as was her habit when she tried to hide a smile. “I’ve