Unseen

Chapter 23

Yvette stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, making the passersby flow around her and Violet with annoyed mutters. She stared at Violet with wide, disbelieving eyes. "How is it possible that you've never had coffee?" Her words made emphatic white puffs in the chill air.

Through her gloved hands, she thrust the warm Styrofoam cup of coffee out at Violet insistently.

Violet wrapped her both hands around the cup. Her eyes widened—at the warmth or the sharp, nutty scent, Yvette wasn't sure. "I lived in an underground compound, remember? And there wasn't any of this in your house."

"Sure there was. Up in the cabinet next to the microwave popcorn. I got you three different kinds, because I wasn't sure which you would like."

Violet frowned. "Was that what those bags of brown stuff were? I thought it was a seasoning. I tried sprinkling it over the popcorn. I didn't like it."

"You tried sprinkling it..." Yvette shook her head. With effort, she started walking again, toward the glimmer of the river a couple of blocks away. "Take a sip," she urged. "Better late than never."

They were in a new city now. With new clothes, and a new apartment, and new IDs for both of them. The apartment was a fraction of the size of the single floor of Yvette's house where Violet had lived. Yvette hadn't expected to miss the feeling of being an insignificant speck in that great big house. She hadn't understood just how much of an adjustment it would take to always have someone else underfoot. Someone who didn't know how to do anything.

But she was adjusting. They were adjusting. And although the apartment was nothing like the scale Yvette was used to, it wasn't small by any means. With the papers she had signed—and the men who had made her sign them—burned in the fire, Yvette had drained the money from each and every one of her father's accounts before leaving the state.

The two of them had all the money they could ever need. And now Yvette didn't need to use it to prop up the Couvillion Syndicate. If the Syndicate still existed, it was on its own.

For the first time in her life, the Couvillion Syndicate was not her responsibility. Her only responsibility was to Violet. Keeping herself safe. Introducing her to the world.

There were times it felt like a full-time job.

"Try it," Yvette urged again.

Slowly, Violet brought the cup to her lips. She took a tiny sip, and instantly made a face that scrunched up her cheeks like a bulldog's. "It's bitter!"

"You'll like it the more you drink it," Yvette said promised said.

Violet's face stayed scrunched up. "Why would I ever drink it again?" She held the coffee out at arm's length.

"And there are different flavors to try, if you don't like that one," Yvette said. "Hey!" she added as Violet held the cup of coffee over a trashcan. She grabbed for it, too late. The cup hit bottom with a sloshing thud.

Violet shook her head, still with her bulldog face on. "I liked the milkshake yesterday better."

Yvette had been introducing Violet to the pleasures of the world, one thing at a time. And introducing herself to them, while she was at it. She had never really realized how much she had missed out on when her father had decided her life should begin and end with the Couvillion Syndicate.

They had seen a movie last week—some silly romantic comedy that had made it Yvette roll her eyes, but she had thought Violet might die of rapture. And okay, Yvette might have teared up at the end. Just a little.

With a weapon in her hand and a target in front of her, Violet was terrifying. But in terms of life experience, she was basically a child. Introducing her to the world was so much more fun than smiling and serving drinks for her father's business associates had ever been.