#malacit

Nadia thought she’d been very polite, controlled when Frost had told her about the price increase for #99. She hadn’t railed against the runner, hadn’t treated her to the diva it’s not fair attitude. Hell, she’d been as accommodating as a woman in her situation could be and it hadn’t made a bit of difference. She was forced to ration, to decline invitations and spend far more time in her apartment than she wanted to and she was frustrated as hell. Promises had been made and were currently being broken. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. How dare they play with her life this way. 

She’d hoped to find Frost at the Rookery but had been informed that she was out. Typical. Well, then she’d just have to speak to Frost’s manager, whoever the hell that was. Rowan had led her around to the back once before so she headed that way again. Her heels clicked decisively on the floor, her chin jutted out stubbornly as she ignored anyone who might have tried to stop her. Before long, she was standing outside a door marked private and rapping her knuckles sharply against it. If no one answered, she’d just walk in, consequences be damned. What else did she have to lose, anyway? 

“Open up.”