“How does it feel, Klepto?”
The fire alarm screeched, starting Lila. “We have to go!”
“No. You’re going to get caught, Lila. It’s your turn to be a slave now.” Tristan held her down, gripping her wrists so hard she thought they might break. Lila didn’t even struggle. Instead, she tried to reach his mouth, still longing.
Tristan laughed at her and finally shoved her off the couch.
She hit the floor, smacking her head against the rug beside her bed.
Lila gazed around the room, stunned, her mind hazy, half still in the dream.
She’d never fallen out of bed before.
Kneeling on the rug, she reached for her palm on the bedside table. A new alert had popped up on the display while she napped.
Zephyr had broken through another layer.
Chapter 13
Lila rolled the tip of her cigar in an ashtray perched on her windowsill, then brought it back to her lips and puffed the oaky tobacco. She blew the smoke out the open window, avoiding the thick red drapes tied to the side. Down below, Johnny Beaulieu and a young slave bent over a shaded portion of the grounds, digging despite the chill, calling back and forth to one another in a lesson, rather than a conversation. Little plastic pots of bare twigs sat in a row behind them, looking like claws bursting through the potting soil. The plants were horrid, ugly things, but she knew that after Johnny’s care and devotion, the twigs would bloom into red roses.
Highborns, lowborns, and workborn threaded in and out around the pair, dodging each another, finishing last-minute errands before dinner.
A knock sounded upon the door.
“Come in.”
Alex’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor. “I thought you were working,” she chided, snatching up the silver platter of leftover sandwiches.
“I was. Now I’m resting.”
“Smoking a cigar is not resting.”
“It is when no one’s around to nag.” Lila balanced her cigar on the ashtray’s edge, then dug into her desk for the second. She sniped off the head with a guillotine cutter and handed her friend a matchbook. Lila heard the sharp strike behind her, and Alex puffed and breathed out slowly, savoring the taste.
“Woodsy.” She chuckled, joining Lila at the window. “I haven’t smoked a cigar in ages.”
“You smoked one a few years ago with me.”
“That’s right. Your promotion. The last chief stepped down to open the florist shop with your cousin. I feel sorry for both of them, having to work under your Aunt Georgina. I don’t even understand why she retired.”
“She wanted to spend time with her grandchildren. I can’t blame her. She missed a lot of her children’s lives. I didn’t understand how much work it was being chief until I took on the role.” Lila puffed again. “I see Mr. Beaulieu in their shop all the time. Helping.”
“He should get a cut of their profits. I’m sure he’s earned it by now.”
“More than. The two fools didn’t know anything at all about roses. Still don’t, though if you ever want the heartiest strain of tomatoes or the sweetest peaches, Emma can grow them for you. They should have started an orchard.”
Her friend put her hand on the windowsill. A smile came to her lips as she watched the back of Johnny Beaulieu. A flood of leaves rained down, flashing in little bursts of yellow.
Alex was not entranced by the leaves.
Lila’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, Alex, you didn’t!”
“What?” she asked, taking a noncommittal puff on the cigar.
“Georgina ran off too many nannies. I used to babysit Johnny.”
“I didn’t babysit him. He’s not that much younger than we are, anyway. What’s five years? Besides, he’s fun and eager.”