I didn’t have to imagine how that concession felt for him, but I was pretty sure I felt the same. Reluctantly, I sat up and leaned against the couch.
“So, Zoe told me today that—”
“Wait. Are you going to talk like that?”
I glanced down and realized he was referring to the fact that my shirt was sitting on the floor beside me. “My bra’s still on. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that I’m distracted. Very distracted. If you want my undivided attention and wisdom, you’d better put the shirt back on.”
I smiled and scooted over to him. “Why, Adrian Ivashkov, are you admitting weakness?” I reached out to touch his cheek, and he caught my wrist with a fierceness that was surprisingly provocative.
“Of course. I never claimed strength in the face of your charms, Sage. I’m just an ordinary man. Now put the shirt back on.”
I leaned forward, testing the strength of his hold. “Or what?” With my free hand, I caught hold of one of my bra straps and started to pull it down . . .
. . . which is how we ended up kissing and rolling around the floor again.
“Damn it,” he said a little while later, breaking free again. “Don’t make me be the responsible one here. We’re down to five minutes.”
“Okay, okay.” I made myself decent and gave him an extra-abbreviated rundown of the news about my dad. “The whole time I’ve been in Palm Springs, I’ve felt like I’m in control. With him here . . . I don’t know. I suddenly feel like there’ll be a power shift.”
Adrian was all business now. “You aren’t going to lose any power. He can’t take your life away. He can’t take away this.” He gestured around us. “It’s just dinner. He’s probably going to talk about the divorce.”
“I know, I know. It’s just been so hard keeping secrets from Zoe, but I’ve pulled it off. He plays in a whole other league.”
“You’re smarter than him. You’re a better person than him.” He clasped my hands and kissed them, but it was a gesture of support and affection, not raging passion. “There’s nothing to worry about. Be your clever Sage self and tell me about it later tonight.”
“If you’re awake,” I teased. Adrian’s dream visits had been few and far between the last week or so. He’d been sleeping better than usual and had apparently listened to me about the importance of avoiding excessive spirit use. “And we still need to get in touch with Marcus again, so you’ll have to be ready for that soon.”
“I guess I’ll just have to drink more coffee to stay awake.” There was a sly glint in his eye.
“Watch it,” I warned. Taunting me with caffeine was a low blow. “You better stay on good behavior if you want some indecency again.”
“Really? And here I thought it was bad behavior that earned me that.”
We kissed goodbye, and I headed back to Amberwood a little later than intended. It was worth it, though. That short talk with Adrian—and the longer physical contact—had strengthened me. I felt confident, filled with both love for Adrian and readiness for my battles. I could handle my dad.
Mentioning Marcus made me think of my charmed salt. So far, I hadn’t done anything with it. Maybe Adrian was right, and Marcus would want to test it on a new recruit. Ms. Terwilliger was keeping it at her house for me, and although I was familiar enough with Alchemist tattooing ink, I wanted her advice on the magical properties of certain substances that might go into the blend. But when I walked into her classroom, I saw I’d have no chance for magical discussion. Zoe was there, waiting impatiently. Despite being a little late, I’d made it back only a few minutes after classes had ended. She must have run straight from her last one here.
“There you are,” she said.
Ms. Terwilliger glanced up from her desk and gave me a knowing look. “Thank you for taking those papers to the office for me. I was just explaining to your cousin how helpful you’ve been to me.”
I smiled stiffly. “Happy to help, ma’am. Am I excused?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She returned to her paperwork without a second glance.
“What’s the urgency?” I asked as Zoe and I left the classroom.
“We have to go meet Dad now,” she said.
“Now? It’s not dinnertime. It’s not even senior-citizen dinnertime.”
“Dad got into town early and didn’t want to waste time.”
I tried not to scowl. “And once again, I’m the last to know.”
She shot me a wounded look. “You seem to have other things you think are more important. Figured you wouldn’t care.”
“Don’t start,” I warned. We reached the parking garage, and I did my usual scan of Quicksilver to make sure no idiot parker had scratched the paint.
To my surprise, Zoe backed down. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be fighting with each other. Today we’re sisters, not just Alchemists. We need to unite against our common enemy.”
“You mean Mom?” I asked incredulously. Zoe nodded in confirmation, and I had to bite my lip on a retort, lest I really did get a fight going.
The restaurant my dad had chosen was exactly what I would’ve expected from him. He had no patience for what he saw as frills and excesses, so any fancy restaurant that played on mystery or romance was out. Yet, despite his pragmatism, he also couldn’t handle a bare-bones café that would be loud and have questionable cleaning and food standards. So, he’d managed to find a Japanese fine-dining place adjacent to a hotel that prided itself on minimalism. The decor was stark, with lots of clean lines, but the food and reputation were outstanding.
“Hello, Dad,” I said. He was already at the table when we arrived and didn’t stand up to hug us. Not even Zoe expected that.
“Sydney, Zoe,” he said. Naming me first wasn’t a sign of preference, so much as respecting the birth order. If Carly had been here, he would have named her first. For double efficiency, that was also alphabetical order. A waiter came by to offer us water and tea just then, and my dad handed over the menu. “This is a dinner menu. Please bring us the lunch menu.”
“Lunchtime is over, sir,” the waiter said politely. “We’ve switched menus.”
My dad met him squarely in the eye. “Are you trying to tell me three thirty is dinnertime?”
“No . . .” The waiter glanced helplessly around at the empty restaurant, save for two businessmen drinking at the bar. “It’s not really anytime.”
“Well, in that case, I see no reason I should have to pay dinner prices. Bring me the lunch menu.”
“But lunch ended at two.”
“Then bring me a manager.”
The waiter left and returned quickly—with a lunch menu. I tried not to sink into my seat.
“Now then,” said my dad, supremely proud of himself. “Let’s get food out of the way and get down to business.”
My stomach lurched as I wondered what kind of business he had to take care of exactly. Even without that anxiety, I wasn’t really hungry but made a good faith effort and ordered sushi.
“That’s a small plate,” my dad noted.
The correct words flowed right off my tongue. “It’s also the cheapest. Even on the lunch menu, this place is overpriced. No point in going overboard when eating during business is a social convention anyway. Besides, we’re getting free food at our dorm tonight as part of our tuition.”
He nodded in approval. “Very true. You look like you’ve gained some weight too, so it’s smart to back off.”
I gave him a stiff smile, swallowing the urge to tell him I still fit firmly in a size four. I was just a much healthier-looking four, rather than a slightly malnourished one. Meanwhile, Zoe—who’d been about to set the menu down—quickly opened it again when she heard him rebuke me. She’d probably planned on ordering tempura, one of her favorite dishes, and now feared my dad’s ire over fried food. I could stomach him making comments about my weight, but if he said anything to her, I was going to have to resist the urge to throw my tea at him. In the end, she ordered what I did, even though I knew she didn’t really like sushi.