My Ice Prince - стр. 42
«Maria’s sister. Another Mroczek. And I don't even know her name. And this girl's got a mouth on her!» – I grinned and tried to continue reading, but the article: «Modern economic systems of the world» ended for me at the third line – further the meaning was lost.
I tossed the paper aside and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
Of course, vampires didn't smoke, or rather, they could, but smoking was considered a plebeian habit, but I didn't care: I smoked often, and I didn't care whether I was considered a plebeian or not. I'd never fit the mould of a normal, aristocratic vampire anyway, even though I was an aristocrat by birthright, but I didn't care.
I pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, inhaling deeply of the tart smoke. It was my second cigarette of the day. Then I remembered the envelope that the young vampire had lost, went to the car to get it, and went back up to the office, sat back in my chair, put my feet up on the desk (a bad habit) and stared at the envelope. After running my eye over the recipient's address, I found the name: «Misha Mroczek.»
«Misha? It suits her: an unusual name for a hysterical girl» I thought, looking at the envelope: it was opened, so Misha had already read its contents.
Should I have read it? No, well-bred people don't do that, but I was just a reclusive cancer, a lone vampire, and a smoker, so I pulled out the letter and read it, chuckling to myself. It was Maria’s handwriting.
«Yes, Maria is as usual in her repertoire: only she can write so wittily about even the most serious things» I thought involuntarily.
Maria’s advice to her sister was so strict and explanatory that I easily drew a conclusion about Misha : she was a little sister who was carried on everyone's arm, she had come to study for the first time in her life, she was among mortals for the first time, in general, she was still an innocent lamb.
And then I saw rule number nine, which read: «Never interact with Frederik Haraldson. Never» and I decided that the girl definitely knew something. I wonder how old she is? Eighteen? Twenty? She looked young, young really, and her skin wasn't as pale as mine. Wow, and she looked so much like someone I used to love. Loved? Hardly – it was some kind of eclipse. We had a brief but stormy affair, with all the consequences that had cast a shadow over Maria’s reputation, but I had no intention of marrying her – I was not that much in love with her, I was in love, but not really: it was just her passionate nature that had turned my head. And when I told her father that I did not intend to become his son-in-law, it was over between us, as well as the friendship between my parents and hers.
When did all this happen? Three years ago: Maria finished her studies, passed all her exams in one day and left. And I stayed: I had no reason to leave, nor did I have a stain on my conscience. Well, just a nasty little stain.
I folded the letter neatly, put it back in the envelope, put out my cigarette and lit a new one.
It was strange that I wondered if Misha knew about all this. It's only natural, though: she's Maria’s sister. Still, I wondered how Maria had let her little sister go here, and how their father had done it – because he hates me with a fierce hatred.