"And if he doesn't?"
Nero did not answer at once.
The silence was not hesitation. Sylvia would have preferred hesitation. Hesitation would have meant conflict, perhaps shame, perhaps some fragile scrap of uncertainty still alive under all that polished Sahan composure.
Nero's silence was calculation.
Finally, he said, "Then I won't take him by force."
Sylvia stared at him.
"That should sound better than it does."
"It is the truth."
"No," she said quietly. "It is the lowest possible bar dressed as reassurance."
His smile sharpened.
"Good," Nero said. "Then you understand me."
Her fingers tightened in her lap.
The worst part was that she did.
"I won't drag Sebastian to me," Nero said, his voice almost gentle, which made it more brutal. "I won't corner him while he is frightened and call surrender consent. I won't use his need for stabilization now because that would be crude. If I wanted something crude, I would have already done it."
