by Riley Storm
Francis leveled the frying pan at him. “The vampires are real. I saw the effects of it on Miss Olivia myself. You would be wise to heed Aaric’s advice and warning on that front.”
Getting to his feet, admiring the scorch marks on his chest where the fireball had landed, Victor rolled his eyes. “The last time I heeded someone’s advice, I lost everything I had to that witch. Don’t tell me what to do, steward.”
Aaric bristled at the derogative sneer, but Victor didn’t care. He wasn’t about to let anyone tell him what to do. That was how he’d gotten himself into trouble in the first place.
“What do you want me to do?” he said, looking at Aaric.
“I’ll show you the plans. Learn them. Tomorrow, you will meet with the Consultant and Project Manager from Plymouth Falls. She’s the one overseeing everything on their end. It’s a joint project between the Drakon family and the county.”
“Fine, fine. Let’s get it over with,” he muttered, trying to sound reluctant.
Aaric gestured, and they headed off down the hall. Neither of them spoke.
But in his mind, Victor was already crowing with victory.
***
“Hi, I’m here to meet with a Cheryl Anders,” he said before the woman behind the desk could even speak. “She’s expecting me. I’m Victor Drakon.”
The secretary looked suitably impressed at the name drop and scrambled for her phone. Victor looked around the office. It was thoroughly…boring. Drab. Soft gray tones on the walls, muted dark woods for the fixtures. Lots of glass though, he noted, remembering how the cost of glass had come down remarkably and was no longer a fancy additive.
How the times have changed, he thought, tapping one finger on the top of the desk, ignoring the constant glances he was getting from the secretary. He could almost smell her arousal. He thought about seeing how flustered he could get the woman before he was called in, but something beeped on her desk.
“Miss Anders will see you now,” the secretary said with undisguised sadness at his departure. “Through there.”
He followed the pointed finger to a set of double doors. Both they and the walls were all frosted glass. Victor could make out shapes beyond, but little other detail.
“Thank you,” he said with a wink that set the secretary’s cheeks ablaze as he headed into Conference Room A, as told to him by the little placard on the wall next to the door.
Victor stopped several feet shy of the door, however, as it opened from the inside first, a slim, pale-as-porcelain hand sliding out to wrap around the edge of the door.
“Mr. Drakon,” the owner of the hand said as they emerged.
The giant dragon shifter came to a skidding halt, his own face paling as he stared, first in shock, but quickly shifting to anger.
“You,” he hissed, eyes taking in the platinum blonde hair, pointed chin and small nose. Eyes of light playful brown stared at him, pupils dilating as she processed his reaction.
“Pardon?” she asked, those same eyes staring back at him with nothing but confusion.
“It can’t be,” he growled mostly to himself. “Impossible.”
It couldn’t be her. Sheer physics said so. Not even a witch could live into her fourteenth decade, which is how old she would have to be by now. If not more. No, this couldn’t be the woman she looked like, the bitch who had deprived him of everything, despite being the spitting image of her.
But she could be a descendant.
Victor grinned outwardly and inwardly. His plan had just taken on another level. A complete and unexpected, and frankly impossible turn of events had given him the opportunity to screw over Aaric and right a wrong against him that was a century overdue.
His smile froze in place as he realized one more thing.
Aaric must have known. The twice-cursed fire dragon had known who she was, and he’d sent Victor to deal with her anyway.
Oh yes, they were both going to pay. They were both going to pay dearly.
And Victor would profit off them both.
Chapter 2
“Is something wrong?” she asked, pausing in the doorway.
“What? No, no, of course not,” the big man said, shaking his head. He looked good, in the expensive-looking pinstripe suit that, unless she missed her guess, was custom-made. Very good.
And also angry. Cheryl wasn’t blind, she’d not missed the way he’d reacted to seeing her. What she was, however, was thoroughly confused as to why he would think they’d met before. After all, she was positive she would remember someone like him.
Tall, tanned, with a dark, almost scruffy five-o-clock shadow already despite it being only two in the afternoon, he would leave an impression on anyone. His entire being exuded power. Barely-restrained power. She could sense it in the width of his shoulders, or the thick fingers of his right hand as he reached out to introduce himself.
“Victor Drakon,” he said, his voice deep, yet a smooth bass without that gravelly rumble that was so frequent. Cheryl wondered for a moment if he was a trained singer, it was so melodic, almost mesmerizing to listen to him speak.
“Cheryl Anders,” she said, taking the hand, noting the warmth of his grip and the casual strength. He wasn’t showing off, he simply was that strong.
The most defining feature, however, wasn’t his strong jaw, ultra-thick short brown hair, or the muscles she suspected lurked under the fine material of his suit. No, it was his eyes. Brilliant green like the turquoise waters of the most beautiful sandy beach in the world. Flawless gemstones that peered out from under his brow at her.
Cheryl’s throat went dry as she stared into them, captured by their beauty, awed by the sheer sexuality of his gaze. It washed over her like one of the waves from that same beach, and her body shivered at the attention.
What the hell is happening to me?
“Can I come in?”
Snapped out of her daydream by the question, she shook off the trance-like haze that had settled over her mind and nodded too fast and too furiously. “Of course, of course. Please, we’re excited to have you here.”
“Not as excited as I am to be here,” Victor said as she pushed open the door and stepped back into the room.
Cheryl bit her lip, trying to determine if he meant it or not. There had been an undertone to his words, something she wasn’t picking up on. So far, her interaction with Victor Drakon had been nothing like the way she’d envisioned it. But there was still time to salvage everything. They hadn’t even gotten started on the meeting.
Just secure the deal. That’s all you need to do today. Go over the plans and secure the commitment of the Drakon family, as you discussed informally with Aaric. Make it official. You can do this!
She could do this. Cheryl knew that. She hadn’t been promoted to city-consultant-slash-project-manager for no reason at all. Her work on other, much smaller projects had been noticed by her superiors. It was why she wore the dual hat now. That, and because the county lacked the budget to hire two separate people. But she wasn’t complaining. Securing a project as large as the Drakon Outreach Center would make her name a staple among the county offices.
One signature. That’s all I need to get, she reminded herself, showing Victor to an empty seat before taking her own.
“Victor, this is my team. Stephen, Liz, and Tanya. Team, this is Victor Drakon.”
Pleasantries were exchanged. While they all shook hands, Cheryl kept her eyes on Victor. He was professional with all of them, but his eyes kept straying back to her.
What is it about me? She wasn’t used to having such a profound effect on men. Especially not ones built like professional athletes. Cheryl had always been focused on her studies. Athletics were…not something she was great at. Apparently, her hand-eye coordination was, well, lacking, to put it politely.
As a result, she’d focused on academics and her body had followed suit. A few extra bulges here and there had become more, but she wasn’t concerned, because her career had started taking off right around then
. Now she was well on her way to proving to herself and her parents that her decision to stay in Plymouth Falls wasn’t stupid. What she looked like just didn’t matter as long as she was happy.
“Shall we get down to business?”
Victor was staring at her.
“Oh, of course,” she said, shaking her head, clearing it of all fantasies and self-doubts. It was time to focus on her job. She could do that.
“If you don’t mind, could you give me a brief refresh? Aaric has done his best to bring me up to speed, but if I’m honest, I haven’t done more than glance over the plans,” Victor said calmly.
“Yeah. Sure. Of course.” Cheryl stood up, conscious of Victor’s eyes. They never seemed to leave her. She appreciated his focus while she was talking, but it was almost too intense. What was he thinking about?
She unrolled the architectural drawings for the DOC, as they had jokingly taken to calling the project around the office, laying it out on the large oval table.
“Did you have any specific questions?” she asked as Victor bent over them.
“No.” The answer was abrupt, sharp.
Cheryl couldn’t get a bead on Victor. If he didn’t have any questions, then why had he wanted to see the plans in the first place? Couldn’t they just sign the contract and get down to business?
“As you can see,” she said, sliding the stack of papers in front of him. “It’s all outlined here, as confirmed by your lawyers and ours. All you need to do is sign, and then construction can begin, we can break ground.”
Victor was nodding. “Yes, yes I’m sure that those documents are all correct. For these plans.”
Trying to keep herself from frowning, Cheryl stood up straight. “I don’t understand. For these plans?”
“Yes.” Victor drew himself upright, staring straight at her as he did.
Was he trying to intimidate her? What on earth was his issue?
“Are there other plans? I’m not aware of anything. These are the ones Aaric agreed on.” She kept her face calm on the outside, but inside her heart was beating like a butterfly’s wings. Something was wrong, she could feel it.
“Something has come up,” Victory said. “We will be altering the plans. We are unable to commit to something of this scale.”
Cheryl’s heart, and hopes, plummeted like an out of control elevator. “What do you mean?” She managed to keep her voice from cracking, but it was a close call.
“The Outreach Center project is going to have to be downsized,” Victor said, tapping the drawings.
Drawings she’d painstakingly spent ages on, going back and forth with the architects, her own designers, Aaric and the construction team leads she was looking to hire to complete the project. So many people had spent so much time on these. Now Victor was just going to throw them away?
“I don’t understand,” she said, placing a hand on the same drawings. “These are what Aaric wanted. What he desired. We showed him them and he said he loved them. What changed?”
“Like I said,” Victor replied icily. “Something came up.”
Did she miss her guess, or had his voice just wavered as well? There was nothing in his exterior to suggest he was close to crumbling, but Cheryl swore she’d heard something. A hitch, a wobble, something other than the hard, cold iron he’d been showing her since the start.
Something else was going on here, and unless she missed her guess, it was about her. Still, Cheryl couldn’t focus on that, not now, not with the project in jeopardy.
“What sort of downsizing are you talking about?” she asked tentatively. “Does Aaric know?”
“Of course, he knows,” Victor snapped. “We’re family. This was his decision as much as mine. He just doesn’t have time for it anymore. I will be handling the downsizing. It will be…intensive and must be done immediately. I will be in touch.”
Then he was gone, striding from the office, leaving the other four sitting or standing in various states of shock.
Cheryl looked around, only to notice the others were slowly turning their attention to her. As they should, she reminded herself. She was in charge. Liz, Tanya and Stephen were all looking to her for guidance.
“Stay here,” she said, forcing herself to sound stronger than she felt. “I’ll go talk to him. See if I can find out more.”
Then she too left the office, going after Victor. He wasn’t about to spring something like this on them and just leave. Not without one hell of a more thorough explanation.
Anger surged through her body, rising with each stride as she went.
No, he wasn’t going to get away that easily at all.
Chapter 3
“Victor.”
It came out half-hissed but Cheryl was beyond caring. She’d had to chase him through half the building, his damnably long strides forcing her to nearly run after him. That had helped the festering anger simmer over by the time she actually did catch up.
“Yes, Miss Anders?” he asked, clearly irritated.
Well too bad, mister. You don’t get to be irritated. Not after the stunt you just pulled.
“May I speak to you?” she asked, trying to remain polite.
Victor shook his head. “I’m busy, I really—”
“Yes, in here will be fine,” she said, stepping past him and opening the office door, gesturing for him to go inside. It was empty, the occupant somewhere else, much to her relief.
The big man eyed her slowly from head to toe, though he never focused too uncomfortably on any particular part. It was an evaluation, almost as if trying to scan her, to determine her threat level. She didn’t experience any sort of sexual energy from it.
“Very well,” he said, and stepped inside.
Cheryl took a deep breath and followed, pulling the door closed behind her.
Immediately, she regretted her choice of office. It was small, the space tight. Meaning she was much closer to Victor than she wanted, suddenly aware of his presence in a way she hadn’t been before.
You’re here to tear a strip off his hide, not the suit off his shoulders! Remember that, she told herself, trying her best to stay focused. He was less than two feet away from her, meaning she had to crane her head back, opening herself up to him.
It was uncomfortable, but she couldn’t determine why. Why was she so unable to maintain her composure with him? This was all about business. She didn’t want him to grab her by the hips and push her back onto the cluttered desk…did she?
Focus!
“What can I do for you, Miss Anders?” Victor asked, sounding almost tired.
Her ire spiked and Cheryl latched onto it, using it to burn away her other thoughts, returning to the matter at hand, though it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. The fire was slowly filling other parts of her as well.
“I want some answers,” she said bluntly.
“About?” Victor almost yawned, he seemed so casually uninterested.
“This is a huge project for Plymouth Falls. One of the biggest in recent history. Everyone is excited at the opportunities it presents for us, and for the Drakon family, a key component of our town’s history.”
She wanted to vomit at the platitudes spilling from her mouth, but sometimes, she knew, a client had to be buttered up.
“The key component,” Victor said in a very matter-of-fact way that caused her to frown. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know that. What is your point?”
“My point is, we need this. The town needs it. Yet you seem keen to take it away. Why? What’s going on? What changed all of a sudden? Aaric never hinted there would be anything that might stop it.”
Victor snorted. “Aaric is, unfortunately, bless his heart, an idealist, and he doesn’t always know what is and isn’t feasible. Once he put me on the project along with some others in our employ, we realized it simply was too much. It’s too big. We must downsize to something more realistic.”
He wasn’t budging. There wasn’t an ounce of compromise in his tone to indicate that there w
as a way to save the project as it was. Which meant that Cheryl had to save as much as she could. Not to let them downsize as much as they’d like.
Get him to commit to a number.
“So, what are you thinking? Eighty percent of the size?” she asked casually.
Victor didn’t snort. Not quite. But she felt the laughter just the same.
“Closer to ten percent,” he said.
How the hell did he keep a straight face over that?
“Ten percent?” she gasped. “That’s ridiculous. You’re basically just pulling the rug out from under the entire project. Stealing our hope away,” she added, trying to appeal to his human instincts.
The words had the complete opposite effect. Where she’d expected Victor to perhaps sigh and give her another explanation, she got cool, flowing fury. His eyes grew brighter and she swore the iris swirled around the pupil like some sort of living creature. It was so astonishing, she gasped and backed away.
But the office was cramped and she got no more than a step farther before her legs brushed up against the desk, stopping her in her tracks.
“Stealing?” Victor hissed, sounding almost lizard-like. “You would dare to accuse me of stealing? You, who has thievery and deception in your blood? A very core part of you! Yet you would act like I am the one stealing? No, I am just taking back what is mine.”
Cheryl blinked, both afraid and confused. “What are you talking about? In my blood?”
Victor laughed, a deep, ominous sound. It should have made her want to lunge for the door, to get back into the hallway where others could see her. Yet for some reason, she stayed put. Her feet rooted to the spot because of something else, something she could hear beneath the laughter.
Pain.
“You know full well of what I speak,” he growled. “I know what you’re up to with this project. Carrying on your legacy. Once wasn’t enough for you, was it?” he snapped.
She pressed herself back against the table as he came closer, but he wasn’t coming for her. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, pausing, his shoulders filling the entire frame.