Page 13 of Smoke

6

Alina

It only tooka week for Uncle George to call me back to his office.

Stupid me, thinking his leaving me alone for that long meant he was letting things go and moving on with his life. That would’ve been the smart move, not to mention the path of least resistance. He finally had what he wanted: control of the clan. Why did he have to bother me, too? Wasn’t it enough?

No. It would never be enough for him.

When I got word that he was looking for me, I was in one of the little alcoves off the first floor of the east wing.

Johnny, one of the youngest clan members, was just finished getting his ankle wrapped in bandages when one of George’s guards found me gathering my supplies.

I turned to Johnny, who looked nervous when the hulking guard approached.

“Don’t sweat it.” I grinned. “It’s grown-up stuff, but I’m not in trouble.” I hoped. I fervently hoped.

“You would never get in trouble.” His grin revealed a gap in his front teeth.

They hadn’t fallen out on their own, the way everybody’s teeth did when permanent teeth came in. He’d knocked his out while running around with a group of boys. The floor had come up to hit him just a little too hard when he fell. Lucky for him they were his baby teeth. I didn’t know of a potion to help new teeth grow.

“You might be surprised.” I laughed. “Take it easy on that ankle, please. Don’t make me tell your mother you were running around when she told you to stop acting up from now on.”

“I promise.”

I didn’t believe him.

No sooner had he turned the corner than the sound of his rapid footsteps echoed through the air as he ran away on the ankle he had just twisted.

Some kids never learn.

I chuckled to myself until I remembered why the guard was standing at my side, and what he wanted.

I followed him to the inner sanctum of the mansion, the center wing which connected east and west. His office—my father’s office—sat on the fourth floor, above the foyer.

I climbed the gleaming marble stairs mechanically, stairs I had climbed thousands of times as I ran up to tell Papa about something wonderful or something terrible or something Jasmine had done which he’d expressly forbidden her from doing.

I cringed when I thought of all the times I’d tattled on her when we were little.

But he never turned me away. He never told me he was too busy. He had always pulled me up on his knee, until I was too big for things like that, and had always listened.

He took us seriously. That was one of the things I missed most about him. He had never laughed at us or told us to leave the grown-ups alone, even though he conducted important business every day which we’d often interrupted.

I wished it were his smiling face I would see when the door swung open.

Instead, it was two smiling faces. Uncle George, looking as smarmy as ever.

And Bradley.

“Hello,” I said, tucking stray hairs behind my ear which had fallen out of my braid while I was working on Jimmy’s ankle.

I was acutely aware of how unkempt I looked when compared to Bradley in his starched white shirt and black dress pants. The first two buttons were undone, revealing his throat and the top of his tanned, muscular chest.

And the sight did nothing for me.

He was as handsome as ever, too, with the sort of blonde good looks that would’ve made him look right at home in California. He slid a pair of aviator sunglasses up and away from his eyes, resting them on top of his head. Piercing blue eyes, the color of the sky on a hot summer day.

“Alina. I heard you’ve been back for a week now.” He sounded a bored as ever.

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