Mar. 23rd, 2017 07:50 pm
borgiafatale: (boardroom)
Lucrezia did not take Eric's advice and leave her silver at home. But she did have the silver knife inside her purse with absolutely no intention of bringing it out unless it was a matter of life and death. After talking to Michael (and then, inevitably, Cesare, because Michael simply couldn't keep anything from her brother), she was even more wary of the idea of vampires than she'd been before. Her brother had also very intentionally not warned her away from them, and she was smart enough to know that he probably saw how she might be useful. And that didn't bother her. She was a Borgia, after all. And she had a lot of anger and unrest at the moment. Best to distract herself. And finding out more about vampires seemed like an awfully good distraction. As did finding out more about her brother's connection to vampires, which he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about.

So she went back to the Blood Diamond one night. Alone, this time. It was a warm night, one of the first in a while, and so she was wearing a white fluttery dress spotted with red cherry blossoms, and red heels. She wondered if there was something she should or should not wear to look more or less like a snack. She had no idea. Would a tight black leather dress have been better or worse?

She garnered a few looks as she walked in, going to the bar. She ordered an old fashioned, and looked up to the balcony, wondering if she would see Eric. She supposed she could ask for him, though she wanted to look around a bit first.
borgiafatale: (demure)
The man that had asked Cesare to be introduced to Lucrezia was named Tom, and he was old and not terribly attractive and rather boring. But he also was not dangerous in the least. He had the air of submission on him, and Lucrezia was amused that Cesare may not have picked up on this. And though he spent his fair share of time they were having a drink to openly ogle Lucrezia, he was also checking his phone constantly for texts, and disappearing to take calls. It was not for work. In fact, it highly amused Lucrezia to think that a dominatrix had this man wrapped around her finger.

After one of the phone calls he returned to Lucrezia and asked if she had any interest in another quick stop before he returned her home. He had a friend who was a fan of her work and would like to meet her. She was at a club only a couple of blocks away. It was one of his favorite places, he told her; he thought she'd like it.

Obviously, she should say no. Cesare would have told her to say no. But now that she had her suspicions about the man, the promise of blackmail material was so close to her grasp. She imagined going back to Cesare with this, imagined how surprised and impressed he would be. She could help the family, too. Even without instruction.

Once they arrived at a place called the Blood Diamond, she wondered if he was really very stupid or just thought that she was. He brought her inside, and she realized that she was perhaps a bit underdressed. She had not wanted to seem the seductress that night so she had dressed in a manner that passed as rather innocent for her - a white dress, cinched at the top but flowing, almost sundress like thanks to an unseasonably warm night. Her hair was curled and left long. She also wore a rather large ruby at her throat, which would not have been her choice for a club such as this. And even in this environment, she carried herself like a princess - which perhaps was what was drawing the attention of those around her.

"I have to go find her," said Tom once he had settled her at the bar. "I will be back."

She nodded at him, and once he was gone, brought out his phone which she had taken out of his back pocket as he walked away. Jackpot. She idly scrolled through a series of photographs of the man tied and bound - not a pretty sight. In the occasional photograph there was blood on him as well, which wow. She sent copies to herself, idly sipping on a martini and ignoring those around her except for keeping her senses peeled for Tom's return. She assumed he would bring some beautiful woman with him, holding the end of his metaphorical leash. And she assumed as well that perhaps the woman was attempting to get him to convince her to join them - as if. But there were several cabs waiting outside, and it wasn't as if they could force her to leave with them in the middle of this crowded place.

And suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder.

Lucrezia spun on her stool, instinctively grabbing the arm and twisting it. It belonged to a young man dressed in black leather and blinking at her in surprise. "Miranda and Tom sent me to - " he said, and she dropped his arm, standing now and on guard. Ah, so they'd sent someone else.

"Tell Tom thank you for the lovely evening but I'll be going now," she said, leaving Tom's phone there on the bar so that he could assume he'd simply forgotten it there.

"Miranda told me to fetch you," the man said, and his eyes looked slightly glazed, as if he were high. Or hyptonized.

"No thank you," she said, and turned to go.

He grabbed her wrist, hard enough to bruise this time, and she spun on him and kicked him in the groin. He doubled over but was not down long. "She told me - " he repeated, and this time grabbed her by her hair. When she yelped and tried to yank away from him he swung her in an attempt to bring her closer to him but their balance faltered and her jaw came into contact with the edge of the bar.

Despite the pain, she took the opportunity to reach for the compartment on the side of her purse, where she kept the knife that Michael had given her. She grabbed it, struck the man in the throat with her free hand, and when he released her, used a maneuver that Michael had taught her to come round back of him and put the knife to this throat.

This all happened so fast. Fast enough that she wasn't shocked that no one had yet come to her aid or indeed intervened at all. But once she had the man in her grasp, she saw that many of the people standing around them were staring with all kinds of expressions she didn't quite understand.

Her tongue darted out to taste the blood on her lip.


Dec. 30th, 2016 03:35 pm
borgiafatale: (superior)
"May I see that one, please?" Lucrezia asked, pointing at a watch in the case at the men's jewelry section of Herrods.

"Ah, you have very good taste," the saleswoman said as she brought it out and laid it on a velvet box on the counter. "And quite a steal for this brand, at under five thousand pounds."

Lucrezia picked up the watch, considering how it might look against Cesare's skin tone.

"A gift for your husband?" the saleswoman asked brightly.

Lucrezia laughed. "No," she said. "In fact, what do you have that is not so much of a steal?"

While the saleswoman, a bit flustered now, began to look for other options, Lucrezia turned and leaned against the counter, re-applying her lipstick.


Dec. 30th, 2016 11:03 am
borgiafatale: (brothersister)
Lucrezia rose from the table when Cesare did, and he embraced her. "Do not leave me for so long again, my Lucrezia," he said quietly in her ear. And then, a nod to Michael. "I will see you later tonight." Then he swept off.

Lucrezia picked up her purse and turned to Michael. "Do you have a pressing engagement, Michael? If not, I would be happy for some company on my walk home."


Aug. 17th, 2014 10:02 pm
borgiafatale: (laying)
It had been almost five years since Lucrezia had been to A&E. In the interim, she'd once had a cut bad enough that it required stitches, but this was while Paul Calderon was in her life, and he had stitched it up for her. She'd refused anesthetic, and as she gritted her teeth and didn't complain, he'd looked at her and that was the moment she thought she'd seen him fall in love with her. She had a small scar below her left thumb that felt like a love token now.

Even her miscarriage had been a private affair, the evidence of what had happened clear enough, and she'd called her OB-GYN and seen him straight away.

So she had managed to avoid the hospital since then, and now that she was here she found it full of unpleasant memories. She'd even tried to avoid it this time, after taking a tumble down a small set of stairs. It was embarrassing, and clumsy, and she'd turned her ankle. She thought it was likely sprained, perhaps even just bruised, but in the worst case that she'd managed to break it, she really needed to know.

She'd already wrapped it expertly in an ACE bandage. One of the many skills Paul had taught her from his time as a field medic.


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Lucrezia Borgia

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