Dragon VIP: Malachite (7 Virgin Brides for 7 Weredragon Billionaires Book 1)

by Starla Night

  But a little farther on, she found form-flattering pencil skirts. Wide, shiny belts gave a thick girl a waist. Bustiers lifted and separated, and cheery gingham with sweetheart necklines squeezed the girls and gave a man a view down the keyhole neckline to remember.

  Amber returned to her side. “Our vintage pin-up line? Could you see yourself wearing something this?”

  Well, if Cheryl had real confidence, then yeah. She’d ditch the hoodie for a flattering sailor suit or rock out in a lipstick-red housewife dress decorated with lacy black inserts. Those pin-ups had it all.

  Modern women who dared to don tall socks, short plaid skirts, sparkling rhinestones, long black gauntlets had confidence. They didn’t give a damn what their professor or classmates thought. They swung their hips unapologetically through life and earned respect.

  She shook herself back to reality. “I’d never be able to pull it off.”

  “It’s not too different from your current look.”

  “Ha.”

  “We shorten the jeans and switch out your t-shirt.” She held up capris and a tight rockabilly shirt against Cheryl’s chest. “I’m sure we can fit you.”

  Cheryl salivated. Who would know? Well, except Amber and Mal. “It’s not my thing.”

  “Think of all the dragons you’re saving from lace teddies.”

  “Lace teddies?”

  “Darcy thinks lingerie will make female dragons feel beautiful.” Amber picked out shoes and a purse. “He wants us to introduce them as love gifts.”

  Well, he would think that. He was a man. “He probably just wants to see someone model them.”

  Amber hesitated. Then she shook herself and switched out the capris for a skirt. “Well, I think the market for love gifts is volatile. Looking beautiful to yourself is more important.”

  “It would be more decent to wear in public.”

  “Yes. Publicity is how we get most of our sales.” Amber stacked outfits until they were towering in her arms. “One aristocrat models something new and then everyone else has to have it.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “Does it?” She tilted her head. “This is all new to us.”

  “What? How’s that possible?”

  “Dragons value only that which is functional. We never used to shift. In childhood, I saw human form perhaps once or twice when my peers were practicing, just to prove they could.”

  She smiled at the outfits.

  “But human form has revealed a new side to us. An ability to see beyond function to beauty. Discovering a fabric or jewel that takes hold of us with an uncontrollable craving… possessing this kind of happiness has awakened a sleeping part of our souls.”

  Wow. Amber made being human sound kind of cool.

  “So, quick, put these on.” Amber shoved the whole overwhelming pile on Cheryl.

  Excitement mixed with trepidation. It would be fun to play dress-up. But agreeing to do one simple thing for dragons spiraled into complications fast. “Why?”

  “We need to model the outfits to convince my brothers which is the best one.”

  Oh, no. Mal, maybe. It made her tingly to imagine him seeing her. But the rest of them… ugh. “Absolutely not. And I’m late for meeting somebody.”

  “Cheryl, I understand your reticence, but the future of our company depends on you.” Amber fixed her with blazing golden eyes that glimmered like deadly twin flames. “Now, strip.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sard Carnelian’s visit could not be a coincidence.

  Mal’s rival came on the day their company lost port privileges and would be dismantled? Rage burned in his veins as Kyan’s announcement silenced the office.

  Mal wheeled to Alex. “Summon Pyro.”

  Alex jumped to his feet and raced for the elevator shaft, shredding his clothes and ditching his humanity to streak as a lavender-turquoise dragon across the sky faster than a rocket.

  “Give Alex twenty minutes,” Mal told Kyan over the intercom. “Then, bring our surprise guest up.”

  Kyan assented and closed the connection.

  Sard Carnelian. Mal couldn’t believe it.

  Despite traveling half the world, twice, Alex was back in fifteen minutes, puffing behind an enraged Pyro. Even that small amount of time gave Mal plenty of opportunity to consider how to face his opponent. Dragons didn’t usually dance on the graves of the fallen. So what, exactly, was the purpose of his visit?

  Pyro had no doubts.

  “He came to sneer.” Pyro buttoned the suit Mal had brought in over his inches of tattoos, covering his newly tanned skin with silk elegance. “Just like at the Academy. He’s a damned aristocrat and we’re Outer Rim trash.”

  Mal grinned at his nearest sibling. “Then I hope you put him in his place.”

  “I’ll punch him so hard he won’t be able to stand up straight.”

  As the next oldest, Pyro had endured the same adolescent aggressions as Mal had. The struggle to find their places between worlds, the cold indifference of the adults, the outright torture by their peers. Pyro had the added burden of his namesake. Pyrochlore was radioactive and most dragons treated him as if he were the same.

  By the time the later siblings arrived, their family’s notoriety had faded. Instead of being famous as the disgraced dragonlets of a fallen aristocrat and a brimstone miner, the others were no-name Outer Rim dragonlets with no chance of ascension.

  “Sard could be offering to help.” Alex zipped a new pair of gray trousers and slid his feet into crisp leather loafers. “We are the only other clothier and we’re far from Draconis.”

  “All the more reason to kick us while we’re down.” Pyro flipped his collar and adjusted his image in Mal’s small mirror. Deadly gold threads in his brown eyes gleamed in anticipation of violence.

  Mal contacted Kyan to bring Sard Carnelian up.

  The trio waited in the conference room. Jasper arrived, out of breath.

  “Where’s Amber?” Mal demanded.

  Jasper shook his head. “She wouldn’t be rushed.”

  “What could be more important?”

  Pyro patted his back, silently promising they didn’t need a dominant female to fight their battles. Although Sard Carnelian was the heavyweight CEO of their biggest rival and a member of the Draconis aristocracy, Pyro would have no problem pounding him into the carpet.

  Or attempting it. The human elevator dinged, and they all watched the hall as Kyan escorted the rival CEO. Kyan’s battle scars and large, silent figure made him their most imposing sibling. But the male striding ahead of him was twice his weight and four times his charisma.

  Sard Carnelian.

  A growl threatened Mal’s throat.

  The aristocrat’s steel-toed boots thudded. His huge thighs stretched his weathered jeans. His fists, swinging arrogantly at his sides, could drive through a steel wall. His casual button-down shirt encircled a massive chest.

  His head swiveled. Silver piercings declared his rank and historic achievements. And his teeth, when he caught sight of Mal and flashed them, gleamed with silver, advertising his wealth.

  The other male towered over Mal. Damn his pure, Draconian blood.

  He strode through the gauntlet of Onyx males and boldly claimed a seat in the back corner of the conference room, farthest from any exits. He sat and stared at them as though they were the ones who had the gall to bring him into the room. Confident bastard.

  Mal steeled himself. “Sard Carnelian. How unexpected to see you today.”

  “Malachite Onyx.” The aristocrat’s eyes gleamed a pure, demonic red. “Same.”

  That seemed unlikely.

  Mal waited.

  Sard folded his hands and rested them on his knees. The picture of patience. Waiting for Mal to crack and reveal… what? Some weakness beside what the aristocrat already knew?

  Forget this game, whatever it was. Mal leaned forward and tapped his fist on the conference table. “What do you want with us?”

  Sard’s finger
s tightened. “Nothing.”

  “You want nothing from us?” That made no sense. “Nothing at all?”

  The male’s smile remained fixed as he shook his head. “Not a damned thing.”

  Mal straightened and stepped back. What was he missing? Why was his rival here?

  “Like hell.” Pyro stormed forward, blazing at the interloper with compressed fury. “You were in our lobby.”

  His eyes flashed. “I had an appointment.”

  Appointment?

  “Liar!” Pyro’s neck bulged as though he were fighting not to go into dragon. His teeth elongated, and he snarled.

  Mal gripped his shoulder to prevent him from leaping on the ballsy aristocrat. “With one of us?”

  Sard shook his head, his confident smile like a shield.

  “You came to the Onyx Corporation lobby to meet with someone who is not an Onyx?”

  Sard spoke through gritted teeth. “Correct.”

  “Then…” What the hell? Darcy? “Who?”

  “If you haven’t figured that out, I don’t feel any need to tell you.”

  Pyro quivered under Mal’s repressing grip. He wanted to rip the aristocrat’s throat out.

  Mal glanced at Kyan. The huge security chief never removed his colorless eyes from the threat, but he subtly shook his head. He hadn’t seen anyone meet with the rival CEO. Who planned a secret meeting in the Onyx Corporation lobby? No. That defied logic.

  “You’re making fun of us,” Pyro spat, giving voice to what they all believed.

  Sard lifted his brows and shrugged one shoulder. “Must be.”

  “Admit it!” He shoved Mal’s hand off and slammed his palms on the table. A crack zagged down the middle toward the rival. Sard jumped just like the rest of them. “You’re here to sneer. Witness our dismantlement.”

  Sard’s voice was quiet and clear. “My condolences.”

  Pyro’s rage brooked no sympathy. “One less competitor. Aren’t you thrilled?”

  Although it was clearly unwise, Sard snorted.

  Pyro’s eyes widened. The gold lines glowed radioactively and scales zagged down his arms, slicing his suit. He sucked in a breath. “You think that’s funny?”

  Sard stopped smiling. “Yeah. I do.”

  The cords on Pyro’s neck emerged in stark relief.

  Kyan turned and dropped one shoulder. He’d fly into Pyro as a sideways tackle should Pyro lose all control and attack the giant heavyweight CEO. In a fight like that, Pyro had the advantage of his rage, but he was still a relatively small dragon. The heavyweight could crush him with his mass and it would be a bloody, arduous fight.

  Pyro gathered himself.

  Mal stepped in front of Pyro and put his arm out to stop the attack. “Why?”

  Pyro pushed against his arm but obeyed.

  Sard sucked in a breath and let it out. He shifted his bulk on the chair, released his fingers as though he’d been pinching them to death, and scratched at his pierced brow.

  Mal waited.

  The other male finally locked on him. Mal held the room, and he ruled his siblings. Even the uncontrollable Pyrochlore. That earned the Carnelian CEO’s respect.

  “Because you’re not my competition,” he said.

  The others started.

  Pyro snarled, his dragon tail splitting his dress pants and flicking in rage. “You arrogant ass!”

  Sard glared at Pyro. “No. A tiny startup corporation run by unrecognized Outer Rim bastards who happened to stumble upon the same mother lode of a planet, yet with no idea of how to maximize their find, is not my competition.”

  “We were second in the Outer Planet Rank Listing,” Jasper protested over Pyro’s growl, unable to keep this fact quiet.

  “Not anymore.”

  “We will be again.” Mal threw down the gauntlet. “And we will beat you for the number one spot. I vow it.”

  His pierced brows rose. He leaned back and clapped. “Go ahead and try.”

  It was maddening, but Mal couldn’t fault the other male for his disbelief. The only choice was to get rid of all distractions, bury himself in work, and force his declaration to come true.

  “Why are you so confident we won’t beat you?” Jasper asked.

  Sard tilted his head, seemingly surprised to be asked. “Because you don’t recognize what’s right in front of you. And if you don’t recognize the assets you do have, someone else is going to reach out and snap them up.”

  He made the grabbing motion, collecting something out of thin air. His lip quirked to the side, a proud half-smile at having gotten one over on them.

  “Speak clearly,” Mal ordered. “What assets?”

  “It’s not my job to point out the obvious.”

  Pyro growled. “He said to speak clearly, you ass!”

  Sard ignored him, holding Mal’s gaze. He had spoken clearly. It was up to Mal to puzzle it out.

  What asset was he talking about? Mal was one of seven siblings. Sard was an aristocrat. Yet here he was, like them, forced to do business on a far distant planet. Were Mal’s siblings the asset? Or Amber? What was it?

  Sard’s ear clips buzzed. He touched the black plastic and listened.

  A voice was just audible to Mal’s superior hearing. “I have the item, boss.”

  “You have it? Very good.” Sard ended his call and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another number one product to launch.”

  Damn him and his thievery.

  “The pajamas were our product,” Alex said, not moving out of Sard’s way to exit. “We researched and tested them.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have hesitated to launch first.” Sard pushed for the door.

  Mal checked him with his shoulder, stopping the demonic heavyweight male cold. “We will beat you. Make no doubt. These ‘Outer Rim bastards’ will bring you down and dance on your number one slot.”

  Sard’s red eyes gleamed from the challenge. “I don’t care if you’re number one or number one hundred. Do you get that? Your position means nothing to me.” His gaze flicked over Mal’s siblings and returned to him. His voice lowered to a knife’s edge. “Do you think you’re the only male with something to prove?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Do you think you’re the only male with something to prove?

  The question echoed in Mal’s ears with a powerful force.

  The reason Sard didn’t consider the Onyx family his competition was because he had something to prove to someone else. Sard didn’t have his sights set on the Outer Planet Rank List but focused on some other measure of success. He knew Mal’s frustration.

  What was his goal, and what did it have to do with the “appointment” he had in the Onyx Corporation lobby or the “item” his underling had just called that he had received?

  Sard held Mal’s gaze, CEO to CEO, dominant male to dominant male. And then, when he was certain they had communicated, he tore his gaze away and forced his way out the office door.

  Kyan ghosted after him, a silent and deadly giant. The elevator dinged open, the heavyweight disappeared, and the floor lightened.

  Seconds passed into minutes.

  “That male needs to fall into a volcano.” Pyro stepped out of his ripped dress pants and exchanged them for new ones that did not have a giant tail hole coming out the butt. “He doesn’t care what number we are? What a lie!”

  Jasper and Alex were nodding in agreement.

  Mal disagreed. But he held back his thoughts.

  “Yes, he’s only hanging onto his lead by stealing our best ideas,” Jasper said.

  “And improving them,” Alex said. “I have conducted additional research. I believe I know how he is doing this.”

  “Yeah?” Pyro zipped his trousers. All the dragons had a closet of spare outfits in their offices. “Spit it out.”

  “You are beginning to sound more and more like the humans,” Alex told him.

  “I spend a lot of time with them. But what’s your conclusion?”

  “For t
he last three product launches, the Carnelian Corporation has sold their products with secondary items.”

  “Free gifts with purchase?” Jasper rubbed his mouth. “That’s expensive.”

  “But effective. The secondary items have become collectibles.”

  Usually, companies distributed a consumable. The Onyx Corporation had launched their blue jeans with a bar of chocolate, which had been popular, but their freight had traveled too close to a sun and ruined half a shipment. Also, some people had eaten the chocolate and returned the jeans. It was a risk after all.

  “So why didn’t the customers return the product and keep the secondary item?” Jasper asked.

  “The Carnelians required the collectible to be returned for the refund.”

  “And they still managed to make sales?”

  “Very good sales.” Obviously. Ones which the Onyx Corporation would struggle to match.

  “What were they distributing?” Pyro straightened his collar and cuffs. “Free sex?”

  “Small cards.” Alex made a square shape with his fingers. “With a picture on one side and a phrase on the opposite. Dragons are purchasing the products, venerating the collectible, and even framing them.”

  Huh. “Like a greeting card?” Mal asked.

  Alex nodded.

  “We have an artist,” Jasper said. “We can distribute our own greeting cards.”

  Yes.

  “First, we have to select a product.” Mal sat in his chair behind his desk again.

  No more distractions.

  No more thinking about Cheryl. No more obsessing about what she was doing. No more wanting to call her in his office, alone, to smear her scent on him as he pounded his release into her and branded her for all other males to stay away.

  Enjoying her gentleness, her bright eyes, and her smile were luxuries he could not allow himself.

  Once they reached number one, he would reward himself with her again.

  What secret asset did Sard Carnelian know he had?

  He stated that to the other dragons. “Nothing matters more than settling on our final best-selling, number one product to launch.”

  “That, and finding another woman to marry you,” Jasper said.