Lustre: A Vice Assassins Novella by Vivienne Hart

Author:Vivienne Hart [Hart, Vivienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

I sleep late the following morning, apparently still in need of post-concussion rest. When I finally wake up, I discover that I feel basically back to normal. Relieved, I throw on black pants and a hoodie and take a late morning stroll to get a coffee. The walk and fresh air—aboveground—will be good for me. As I pass by the park, I spot a cluster of pink-and-orange-frilled wildflowers growing near the sidewalk. I pluck a small bouquet; my apartment could use the cheer.

I spend the afternoon relaxing and am just starting to think about what to make for dinner when I get a comm from Wes.

"Have you eaten?" he asks.

I laugh. "Nope. I'm literally standing in my kitchen trying to figure out what to cook."

"Perfect. I'm here to rescue you. How do you feel about Napolitano cuisine? Pasta? Carbs in general?"

"Pretty great, actually."

"Excellent. I'll be there in an hour."

We disconnect and I take the time to shower, fix my hair in a tiny half bun, and put on a little lip balm and mascara. I change into a comfortable dress and am pleased with the overall look: casual, but not sloppy.

I mean, it's not like it's a date or anything. But still. It never hurts to look cute.

I quickly set the table with a yellow tablecloth and a pair each of plates, water glasses, and goblets. I add a bud vase with the wildflowers to the middle of it all.

Wes arrives right on time with an actual feast. There's a huge salad, lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, garlic bread, two individual helpings of tiramisu, and two bottles of red wine. The real stuff, from the monastery vineyards on Chastity. Expensive.

"I hope you're hungry," he says with a grin.

"I'm actually starving," I say. "I've barely eaten anything for the past three days and my stomach finally noticed."

I gesture to the table and we unpack all the food.

"Don't tell me you made all this," I say.

He laughs. "Definitely not. I get by in the kitchen, but I'm no chef. This is takeout from my favorite restaurant. Well, except for the wine. I always have a few bottles on hand. You can't underestimate the importance of good wine and good bourbon."

He pours us each a glass and I take a sip of my first non-synthetic wine. "You might be right about that. Sure beats lightning juice."

He actually shudders. "What wouldn't?"

We sit down and he starts dishing out the food. I try not to notice his big, capable hands or the way his dimple pops when he grins. I studiously ignore the fact that this is the first time I've seen him without the leather jacket, and his button-down shirt highlights very nice arms. I do not pay attention to the strong line of his jaw or the way his blue eyes twinkle.

He is off-limits.

We eat until I think I might burst. I polish off the last bite of tiramisu and set down my fork. "Woof. I think I might die, but at least I'll go happy.

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