The Blood Legacy (The Lost Heir Book III)

Dinner Date

Isabella tried the nonchalant approach and added, "Besides, I figured you wouldn't care anyway." She shrugged.

"Why did you think that?" Lana sat back on the stool, one foot on the rail, arms crossed.

"You don't even really like her books."

"Who said it had anything to do with her books?"

Isabella stared at Lana, blinking. It had been Cleo's argument that she was a fan of the writer, which made sense. Maybe Lana had a better reason Isabella hadn't thought of. "If it's not about the books, what is it?"

Lana returned her gaze, her lips pressed into a tight line. Then all of a sudden, she started cleaning the counter, each quip accented with the sounds her re-organizing made. "I don't know, Isabella," Lana commented drily as a set of pens dropped loudly into a metal cup, "Maybe I was thinking you might need someone to help deter Ms. Silver from digging into your family's history."

A yellow lined legal pad slapped on the counter as Lana moved it from one place to another, "Perhaps I was thinking of what was best for you and this place. You know, maybe help keep the conversation civil and diplomatic to help my oldest friend in the world?

But then again, what would it be other than books?" The last witticism was emphasized with the ding of the silver bell perched on the corner of the kiosk.

Isabella was speechless as Lana moved onto straighten a rack of cards displaying historical pictures of the Foxworthy Hotel. Her gaze fell onto the photo on the bottom that had a split display of the building when it was first erected and a more recent image. As she read the caption "Foxworthy Hotel: Then and Now," her heart couldn't help but feel heavy.

"I'm sorry, Lana," she apologized, but any additional words were stuck in her throat.

Lana turned from straightening the postcards, her back stiff. "That's fine, Isabella. Evie and I are hanging out with a couple of guys anyway. I would have canceled. You know – for you, but I get it."

"Are you sure?" Isabella questioned skeptically. She highly doubted that Lana was quick to forgive her.

"Yep," Lana replied curtly, removing the green apron she wore for the shop as another worker relieved her for the day. "See ya later, Ms. Foxworthy."

***

Cleo and Isabella arrived early, but Serena Silver was already seated at a table near the back corner, sipping on a martini with a vibrant yellow toothpick that pierced two olives with a cocktail onion nestled in between them. She stood, revealing a stylish black cocktail dress that made Isabella feel awkward and unfeminine in her jeans and fitted Guns N Roses shirt with only a hint of glitter to jazz up her look. She knew she should have made more of an effort, but she wanted to be comfortable, and also, Guns N Roses was her thing with Seth. It made her feel like he was with her to put on the shirt they'd bought together while hanging out on Abbot Kinney in Venice that spring. Of course, Cleo was in jeans, too, but they looked like they cost more than Serena's dress. And the top she wore along with her perfectly pink strappy heels and handbag were nothing less than couture, but that was Cleo. Isabella was used to her.

"Miss Foxworthy, thank you for joining me. And is this your—"

"My friend, Cleopatra Antonelli," Isabella offered with a polite nod of her head.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at Isabella, then turned to the woman. "Just Cleo's fine. I'm a big fan."

Isabella would have mentally chuckled at Cleo's standard reaction to her full name if she wasn't so intent on zoning in on whatever it was Serena was up to. Cleo had been right earlier. Isabella had learned to control her subdued powers of sensing other's auras while she wasn't in the Underground.