Free Replica by Jenna Black

she might appreciate the sympathetic ear. Assuming she didn’t completely freak out about him being a Replica.
    But Nate’s motivation for going to see Nadia wasn’t entirely altruistic. He certainly couldn’t rely on the media’s account about what had happened on the night of the murder, but he hoped Nadia would be able to give him the first in the trail of breadcrumbs that would eventually lead him to Kurt—and, through him, to the true killer.
    *   *   *
    An ordinary citizen would have had trouble getting through the Lake Towers security even with an appointment, but there were privileges that came with rank, and Nate wasn’t shy about taking advantage of them. He was in the elevator on the way to the penthouse before the security staff had finished bowing and scraping. He’d worried that the story of his murder and reanimation would make people treat him like a freak, or even an impostor. In some ways, he was an impostor, not the real Nathaniel Edison Hayes, no matter what he looked like or remembered. But he should have known that the Lake Towers staff would act like professionals and treat him as if nothing had changed. And if they were whispering and staring at him when his back was turned, he didn’t have to know about it.
    When the elevator doors opened at the top floor, the Lake family’s butler, an aging gentleman named Crane, was waiting to meet him.
    “Good morning, Mr. Hayes,” Crane said with a polite bow.
    Nate refrained from rolling his eyes, but it was always an effort to contain his sarcasm when Crane was around. The old fart was so stuffy he was a caricature of himself, but he didn’t know it. From the penguin suit to the mannerisms—like bowing, for God’s sake—to the British accent from a man who’d been born in the state of New York, back when it existed, everything about him was affected and overdone.
    “Miss Lake will join you in the morning room,” Crane intoned. Nate wanted to point out that it had been at least a couple of centuries since anyone had had a “morning room” in their house. “May I bring you some refreshments?”
    Nate wanted nothing more than to have a private conversation with Nadia, but he knew from experience that if he didn’t allow Crane to bring refreshments, the butler would check in on them every few minutes to see if they wanted something—either because he was desperate to be of service, or because he was a nosy bastard who didn’t like the idea of his charge being left alone with a man, even if that man was her presumed fiancé.
    “Some coffee would be nice, if you don’t mind,” Nate finally said, deciding it was the option that would lead to the fewest interruptions.
    “Very good, sir,” Crane said, bowing again, and this time Nate did roll his eyes. Of course, Crane was too busy bowing to notice.
    Nate started toward the “morning room,” which everyone other than Crane referred to as the den, his bodyguard falling into step behind him. Nate stopped in his tracks and gave the man a withering look. Ordinarily, his bodyguards knew better than to hover so close, and Fischer was usually one of the more laid back of them.
    Fischer didn’t take the unspoken hint, neither backing down nor even lowering his eyes.
    “You think you need to guard me inside my fiancée’s home?” Nate asked with a shake of his head. He supposed he should have expected an extra dose of paranoia from his guards after he’d been assassinated, but it somehow hadn’t occurred to him.
    Fischer shrugged his massive shoulders. “Just doing my job.”
    “Your job is to guard me when I’m out in public,” Nate reminded him. “You don’t have to stick to me like gum on the bottom of my shoe. Stay here.”
    “The Chairman—”
    “Isn’t your boss,” Nate interrupted, though he wasn’t so sure that was the case. If it came down to Nate and the Chairman giving the man contradictory orders, there was no question whose Fischer would follow. “I intend to