Larissa's Game of Thrones (Larissa) novel Chapter 148

“Will you stay for lunch?” Haskell asked Larissa after Draven and Valeria had been escorted from Aqua Estate.

Larissa nodded. “Lunch sounds great. But here?”

She glanced around the living room. “It’s just the three of us. Are you cooking? Am I? Don’t tell me it’s Crispin.”

Crispin immediately threw up his hands. “I can fight and I can work, but I can’t cook.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you lift a finger,” Haskell said, already dialing a number on his phone. A moment later, he had arranged for the Palmer family’s private five-star chef to come over.

Larissa couldn’t help but sigh in admiration. “Haskell, you really know how to live!”

The Palmer’s chef was, unsurprisingly, a master. Larissa ate until she was completely satisfied, leaning back on the sofa and patting her stomach contentedly.

“If I eat like this every day, I’m going to gain fifty pounds.”

Haskell looked at her slender arms and legs. “It’s fine. You have plenty of room to grow.”

She sat up straight. “How do you have such self-control? You barely ate anything.”

“My legs make it difficult to work out properly these days,” Haskell said matter-of-factly. “If I don’t watch my diet and stay in shape, what if you decide you don’t like what you see after we’re married?”

Larissa’s interest was piqued. “Oh? So you’re saying you’re in perfect shape right now?”

Haskell didn’t feign modesty. “I think you’d find it acceptable.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you. Seeing is believing.”

Crispin, who was still standing in the room, cleared his throat. “Should I… make myself scarce?”

Haskell nodded, a warm smile on his face. “You can get lost now.”

Crispin sighed internally. How could his boss say something so cold with such a gentle voice? It was true what they said—men in love were a different species. Even a man like Haskell wasn’t immune.

Haskell chuckled. “I’m glad I don’t disappoint.”

After her inspection was complete, she buttoned the shirt back up. It had been open at the collar before, but now she fastened every single button right to the top.

“Better keep this under wraps,” she declared. “No one else gets to see.”

Her fun over, she sat back down on the sofa, wearing the smug expression of a cat that had gotten the cream. Just then, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen. It was Solon, the son of her old neighbor Zendar from Spire Village. She mused for a moment on the oddity of him—he’d abandoned the massive fortune Zendar had left him in Regal City to become a web novelist. Just as eccentric as his father, who had moved to Spire Village on a whim.

She remembered that Solon was actually the one who had first introduced her to writing, but since he was almost always in Regal City, they rarely spoke. She wondered why he was calling now.

She answered, and a clear, male voice came through the line.

“Larissa, it’s me, Solon. I need to ask you for a favor.”