Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

We look over the menu for a few minutes, but I usually get the same thing. There are no prices on the menu, thank goodness, because I know from accidentally seeing the bill last time we stopped in for drinks and dessert, they would make me lose my appetite. This place has my favorite dessert in the city, though. An incredible slice of chocolate cake. That’s it, just chocolate cake, but I don’t know what is done to the cake. Obviously it is dipped in sin and sprinkled with ecstasy, because it is the loveliest thing my taste buds have ever come into contact with.

My mouth waters just thinking about it. Our waitress finally comes our way, but she’s carrying a tray and we haven’t ordered yet. I glance around, but there are no other diners in our little nook, so she must be bringing it to us.

Smiling, she puts the tray down in front of us. It’s a tray of caviar with two glasses of champagne.

“Oh, we didn’t order…”

The waitress is already nodding. “On the house.”

Carter smirks, unrolling his napkin full of utensils. “He saw us.”

I sigh, much less amused. “He’s here.”

The waitress stifles a knowing smile, then asks, “Did you two need a minute to look over the menu, or…?”

“Nope, we’re all set,” Carter tells her, then proceeds to order our food.

Once the waitress is gone, I eye the caviar, but only reach for the champagne. “If he’s gonna send over free food, he should skip the foreplay and send me cake.”

Amused, Carter assures me, “You’ll get your cake after we eat.”

“I’ll take pre-dinner cake and cake for dessert. There’s never enough cake. I would like cake in a house, I would like cake with a mouse. I would like cake here or there. I would like cake anywhere.”

“No more Dr. Seuss bedtime stories for you,” Carter tells me.

I shake my head. “I have to train my brain to stop memorizing everything my eyeballs skate across more than once.”

I’m not a big fan of caviar at all, but I’m so hungry, I eat a little of it while we’re waiting for our food. Other than popcorn at study group, I haven’t eaten anything all day, so the single glass of champagne makes me a little loopy.

I process everything more slowly when I’m tipsy, so it takes until a moment after the scent of expensive cologne and bad decisions wafts my way, then I sense trouble standing behind me.

I tip my head back gracelessly and tip backward in my chair, my back pressing into the knuckles of the man standing there with a firm grip on my chair.

His blue eyes gleam with amusement as he looks down at me. “Hello, Zoey.”

“You sent over strong champagne,” I say accusingly.

“I sent over Cristal. You’re a lightweight.”

“I think it’s extra strength champagne,” I tell him argumentatively.

“With your discerning palate, I’m shocked Zagat hasn’t recruited you yet,” he deadpans. Dismissing me, he looks across the table at Carter. “You sure you want to bother with food? I think you have her in an ideal state already. Just clear out of here and head home, your job is done.”

“I’m not leaving until I’ve eaten my weight in chocolate cake,” I state, holding onto the edge of the table so I can sit back up.

“How about one piece?” he suggests, openly looking down at my breasts, then letting his gaze drift over the rest of my body. “Hate to see you lose that lovely shape.”

“Ugh. I hate you.”

He grins, utterly pleased with himself, then turns his attention to Carter. They bullshit for a few minutes and I zone out, thinking about all the presents I still have to wrap. Now that Chloe lives with us, we essentially have a child, so Christmas is a pretty big deal. This being her first Christmas with us on top of it, I went way overboard on presents in a bid to make the change easier. The presents are mostly stashed in the unused cabinets under the marble counter in my walk-in closet. Chloe never goes in there, so it was the only feasible hiding spot.

I need to get bows. I have lots of wrapping paper and glittery nametags, but no bows. I pull out my phone to order some bows, but before I can shop, I see a message from Lucis.

“Study group is tedious without you.”

I’m not sober enough to guard my phone from potential misinterpretations, and my awkwardly slower reflexes do not help me tilt it away quickly enough when Carter’s stupid asshole friend leans down and asks, “Who is Lucis, and why does he miss you so much?”

“Have you ever heard of privacy?” I ask him.

“Have you ever considered not being a cocktease?” he shoots back.

My eyes widen in disbelief. “I am not a cocktease.”

“He sends you unmitigated longing completely unprovoked, then?” he questions, arching a golden eyebrow.