Vette slid into her dress and hooked her fingers into her strappy heels for carrying. Then she left the sumptuous bedroom and started down the golden hall. A strap slipped and she reached to pull it up.
Just then a woman rounded the corner ahead. She was dressed in a plunging neckline and not much else, and she looked at Vette as if sending blaster bolts.
“Who is this?” she said loudly.
Lenn was at Vette’s side, belting a robe. “Niall! This is, this is nobody. She’s an old friend. Friend of the family.”
“You liar,” said Vette, though she couldn’t be surprised. “Wife? Mother? No offense.”
The woman’s mouth opened. “Our association is less formal,” Lenn babbled. “I can explain. Vette here was just trying on a dress for a hot date, and she wanted me to help. You know, give the masculine perspective.” He gulped. “Don’t hurt me.”
The woman’s eye blasters returned to Vette. “He’s a snake with three rumored fiancées and I didn’t have proof until you finished dressing just now.”
Lenne waved anxiously. “My exquisite, you—”
The woman stalked to an alcove that held a very fancy vase, too fancy to actually have flowers in it. She grasped it and hurled it at Lenn’s head.
“Hey!” Vette squeaked. “I stole that fair and square!”
“Shut up,” the woman grated.
Lenn had dodged. The vase had shattered in the corner. Now he looked helpless and the woman looked homicidal. “Well,” Vette said, “I’ll just leave you two to get less acquainted.”
It was easier to run with her shoes in her hands.
