Life Blood: Cora's Choice #1 Read Online Free PDF Page A

thing,” she said.  “And you’re taking a real purse?”
    “Already put everything in it.”  I snatched her swing jacket from the sofa and grabbed my clutch and waggled it at her.
    “You’d better head down now, then,” Lisette said.  “You’re going to be late.”
    I paused at the door.  “Don’t wait up for me,” I warned, knowing that she would, anyway.
    She laughed.  “Of course I will.  Who else is going to get me through our Game Theory homework tonight?”
    I smiled back at her, then hurried out the door. 
    The elevator down was crowded with other students I didn’t know who eyed me curiously but didn’t interrupt their conversations as they headed down.  On the third floor, Geoff Nowak stepped in, all golden hair and bronze skin.  He was in most of my classes—had been since freshman year.
    “Hey, Shaw,” he said, treating me to a dazzling smile.  He always called me Shaw because his stepmother’s name was Cora, and he said it freaked him out to use the same name for me.  “You look a bit dressed up for a date.”
    “It’s more a business thing,” I said, returning his smile.
    “An interview?”  The doors opened on the ground floor, and we all spilled out.  “Who’s interviewing now?  If you’re holding out on me....”  He treated me to a patently fake threatening glare.
    “Not an interview,” I said as we went through the double doors.  “Tell you later.” 
    Like most of my friends, he didn’t know I was sick.  I wondered what exactly I’d say.
    The Bentley was at the curb when we stepped out onto the sidewalk.  The chauffeur swung the door open as I approached.  Unable to resist, I gave Geoff a jaunty little wave before climbing in.
    “Oh, snap,” he called out after me, standing frozen on the sidewalk.  “Shaw, you’ve got a lot to explain....”
    The chauffeur shut the door and I settled back against the seat with my coat in my lap, feeling a little guilty.  Geoff deserved a little teasing, but I had no idea what kind of excuse I was going to give him.  Probably not a very good one, I thought.
    “Where are you taking me?” I asked the driver, worried that I would be whisked away to Baltimore again.  That would make for a long evening, even if the appointment were short, and I had class in the morning.
    “Mr. Thorne has made arrangements in D.C.,” the chauffeur said.
    Vague but good enough, I supposed.  I set my phone on silent and settled back against the seat to watch the lights of the city through the window, a yellow blur in the cold outside the car’s heated cocoon, each block running into the next in an endless repetition of cement, asphalt, and brick.
    I didn’t realize that I had fallen asleep until the sound of my car door opening and the sudden breath of cold air roused me.  I blinked a few times and surreptitiously wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth.
    “We’ve arrived, Ms. Shaw,” the chauffeur said helpfully.
    “Where am I?”  I ducked out of the car and stood on the sidewalk in front of a nondescript beige rowhouse, surreptitiously stretching my stiff muscles.
    “The restaurant,” the chauffeur said patiently.  “Mr. Thorne is waiting for you.”
    I looked up, and I saw the sign:  Komi.  I swallowed.  Even I had heard of Komi.  One meal cost about the same as two weeks of dorm food.  It was the current food mecca of the capital, impossible to score reservations unless you called at noon exactly one month ahead.
    Impossible to score reservations unless, of course, you were Mr. Thorne.
    The chauffeur was already pulling away, so I had no choice but to step up the iron steps to the front door.  I was desperately grateful that I’d decided to dress up.  If I’d arrived in denim and sneakers, I would have died of humiliation right there and spared the cancer the trouble of killing me.
    I swung open the door and stepped inside to be greeted by a black-clad host.
    “You must be Ms. Shaw,” he said, relieving