Free Replica by Jenna Black Page B

them.
    “It’s not because I’m a Replica,” he said. “It’s just that I suck at putting them on myself.” Of course, he could have asked one of his other servants to do it for him, but that wouldn’t have been the same.
    Nadia nodded at his explanation. “Other than that, you look like you,” she said with an ironic smile. “And you sound like you.” Her hands relaxed their grip on the quilt, although she didn’t exactly look at ease.
    “Hmm. Only smell, taste, and feel left to go.” He leaned toward her and offered his throat. “Have at it.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and he let out an internal sigh of relief.
    “In your dreams,” she said, shoving him away playfully.
    “Brat,” he said, then tugged on the end of her braid, and her smile broadened into a grin.
    “ You’re calling me a brat? Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
    The memory of standing in front of the mirror yesterday, examining his body and marveling at its perfect imitation of the original Nate Hayes, flashed through his mind, and he shivered. He looked down at his hands, turning them over and staring at them as if he’d never seen them before.
    “I can’t quite … absorb whatever it is that happened to me,” he said. “I feel so normal. But I’m not the same person I was just a couple of days ago.”
    “Yes, you are,” Nadia said firmly, hiding the lingering doubts he was sure she must feel.
    He looked up and met her eyes. “If I were the same person, I’d remember what happened the night of the party.”
    Nadia didn’t quite grimace, but she did look uncomfortable, and she averted her gaze. “Let’s just pretend you had a nasty blow to the head and have amnesia. That doesn’t make you a different person.”
    He waited for a moment, expecting her to tell him what had happened. He’d thought it was pretty obvious what he’d been fishing for. But Nadia just sat there chewing on her lip and looking uncomfortable. Suddenly, Nate wasn’t sure he wanted to know exactly what had happened after all.
    Crane took that moment to enter the room—without knocking, naturally—carrying a tray with a coffeepot, two white china cups and saucers, and a cream and sugar set. The tray was decorated with a large golden-yellow mum in a small crystal vase. Nate knew Nadia valued informality as much as he did, but informality was a foreign concept to people like Crane.
    Nate and Nadia met each other’s eyes as Crane put the tray down and fussed to make sure everything was arranged just so. Nate was tempted to offer the old man a ruler so he could make sure every item was exactly the same distance apart, but making fun of Crane was just too easy.
    Finally, Crane was satisfied with the arrangement of the cups and saucers—or was satisfied that Nate and Nadia weren’t going to say anything of great interest while he was eavesdropping—and trundled out of the room. Again, Nate suspected the slow pace was deliberate, but neither he nor Nadia said a word beyond “thank you” until they were alone again.
    “You shouldn’t sneer at him like that,” Nadia said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “He’s just doing his job.”
    It wasn’t the first time Nate had been told he wasn’t allowed to complain about people who were doing their jobs, but he never quite saw the logic in the restriction. Unlike Executives, Employees could choose their jobs, after all, and they could also do them without being assholes.
    “He’s not living in a Jane Austen novel,” he said, a little peevishly. “I see no reason why he can’t do his job without the stick up his ass.”
    Something flashed in Nadia’s eyes, and she put the coffeepot down with a little more force than necessary. “That’s how ninety percent of the people he interacts with want him to behave. You think he should change just because you’d like it better?”
    Call him crazy, but Nate had the feeling Nadia was