Free The Van Alen Legacy by Melissa de La Cruz Page B

same

monochromatic wardrobe. He was dressed all in white, in his summer uniform: a linen shirt and

matching pants.
    “Henri?”
    Henri engulfed her in a

flutter of air-kisses. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months! Everyone feels

terrible about what happened! Oh My God! I still can’t believe it! I’m so glad to see you’re

okay! Can I come in?”
    “Of course.” She

led him into the sun-drenched sitting room where the family received guests. Bobi Anne had gone a

little overboard with the nautical theme. Scull oars were hung on the walls, the blue-and-white

pillows were trimmed with rope, and there were miniature lighthouses everywhere.
    Bliss asked the maid to bring

refreshments, and settled into the cushions. Playing the grand hostess came easily; it helped

that she had been raised to do this all her life. It stopped her from rubbing her bare feet

against the throw rug and from bouncing up and down on the cushions.
    She was alive! In her own

body! Talking to a friend! But she composed her face as carefully as her thoughts. It would not

do to look delirious and ecstatic when half her family was dead or missing. That would certainly

arouse suspicion.
    “First of all, I’m so sorry

about Bobi Anne,” Henri said, taking off his fancy eyeglasses and cleaning the lenses with the

edge of his shirt. “You did get our flowers, right? Not that we were expecting a thank-you card

or anything. Don’t even worry about it.”
    Flowers? What

flowers? Henri looked concerned when Bliss didn’t answer, and she immediately covered up for her

confusion, reaching for his hand.
    “Of course! Of course? they were beautiful and so thoughtful.”
    Of course the agency had sent

flowers for Bobi Anne’s memorial. Through their conversation, Bliss gathered that the papers had

explained the deaths of the Conclave by way of a fire at the Almeida villa. Arson was suspected,

but with the slow-moving ways of the Policia , there was little hope that justice

would ever be served.
    The maid returned bearing a

pitcher of Bobi Anne’s favorite: Arnold Palmers half iced tea, half lemonade (made from lemons

picked fresh from their orchard).
    “I can’t believe it’s been a

year since I’ve seen you?” Henri said, accepting a frosty glass filled with the amber

drink.
    A year!
    That was a shock. Bliss almost

dropped her glass, her hands were shaking so badly. She had had no idea so much time

had passed since she was last in control of her body, of her life. No wonder she had so much

trouble trying to remember things.
    That meant she had missed her

last birthday. The year she turned fifteen, her family had celebrated at the Rainbow Room. But

there had been no one around to mark her Sweet Sixteen. Not even herself, she thought dryly. I

wasn’t even there for my own birthday. A whole year had gone by while she fought to hold on to a

semblance of consciousness. She would never get it back, and time was more and more precious

now.
    A burning anger rose within

her, she had been robbed of an entire year, but again, she suppressed it. She couldn’t allow the

passenger in the backseat to know how she felt. It was too dangerous. She would have to remain

serene.
    She turned to her agent, her

friend, and tried to pretend she didn’t feel like he had just punched her in the

stomach.

FOURTEEN

Mimi

    Dawn was breaking over the

hillsides. Another fruitless night in the slums. They had scanned every man, woman,

and child in the designated area. Tomorrow they would do the same, starting in the northern slums

in Jacarezinho . The team’s spirits were starting to flag.
    Mimi didn’t think they were

ever going to find Jordan. At least not in Rio. Kingsley put on a good show, but

Mimi could tell he was frustrated.
    “My instinct tells me I’m

right, that she’s here,” he said as they walked quickly down through the maze of makeshift

stairways