Mixed blood

Chapter 36: Micropipette

Luana stirred slowly, the first thing she noticed was the familiar scent of William’s cologne lingering in the sheets—and the weight of an arm slung over her waist.

She blinked.

There he was. Fully dressed in his black shirt and slacks from the night before, sprawled on top of the covers beside her, fast asleep on his stomach, taking the most of the bed.

Careful not to wake him, she slid out from under his arm and tiptoed to the bathroom. Her body ached, especially her healing arm, but she was stubborn.

And stubbornness made things possible.

She bit her lip as she looked at the tight knot of the sling tied around her upper arm.

“Alright, come on,” she muttered, reaching over with her good hand to untangle it from her shoulder.

Her arm protested, but she powered through, gritting her teeth until the damn thing slipped off.

She pulled out a soft ivory top and a pair of wide-legged trousers, dressing slowly. It took longer than usual, and she had to pause a few times to catch her breath, but she did it.

From the bedroom, William's groggy voice echoed, "Lu?"

She strolled back into the room like it was a runway. “Good morning!”

He sat up, blinking twice like he wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming. “What the—? You’re dressed?”

She spun lightly on her heel, facing her vanity with a grin. “Obviously.”

“The heck, Lu. You did it alone?” He rose from the bed, concern flashing in his tone. “That had to hurt. They told you to rest your arm.”

She shrugged, dabbing concealer under her eyes. “Pain builds character.”

William muttered something under his breath about stubborn women and headed into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he emerged freshly washed and entered the dressing room. She heard the sounds of drawers opening and fabric sliding from hangers.

When he reappeared, he was buttoning up a sleek charcoal-grey shirt, his tie looped loosely around his neck.

Luana was still focused at her mirror, applying eyeliner with precision.

William, on the other hand, needed five minutes tops. He combed through his hair with his fingers, then straightened his shirt collar in the mirror beside her.

They stood side by side. Her brushes tapped glass jars, his cufflinks clicked quietly into place. She curled her lashes. He straightened his watch.

Then Luana picked up her perfume bottle. It was a delicate crystal thing, elegant and feminine.

“Wait, wait—” William began, but it was too late.

Pshhh. Pshhh. Pshhh.

She sprayed it over her neck, her wrists, the air around her then walked through it like a goddess parting clouds.

William took a step back, coughing. “Cazzo, Lu! You just fogged the entire room.”

“It’s my signature scent.”

“It’s my respiratory problem now.”

She smirked. “It’s Chanel.”

“It’s chemical warfare.”

Luana leaned over, giving him a sweet smile as she waved some of the scented air toward him. “Smell nice, look nice, live longer.”