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

by Starla Night

  By the time of the art show, the launch should be queued. Any problems would have already revealed themselves and been resolved.

  “As long as there are no major issues, I will attend for one hour.”

  “Good.” She blinked as though she hadn’t expected his easy agreement. Then, she fisted her hands for a new fight. “Then, after we get married, it’s traditional to go on a honeymoon.”

  He had heard of these things. Alex had mentioned it during one of the briefs, perhaps. Mal shook his head. “A full day is difficult to take off.”

  “Honeymoons usually take one or two weeks.”

  Incredulous laughter filled his chest. “One or two weeks? Impossible. I will miss an entire product cycle. And if we are selling the company and forming a new one, this is a critical era. My whole family’s future depends on it.”

  She jutted her jaw. “It’s tradition.”

  Two weeks with Cheryl while his siblings ran everything? Could he allow himself the luxury?

  Even imagining it was dangerous. He wanted it so badly his jaw hurt.

  He was done with this conversation.

  Mal punched the locking code into the external door panel. “We have followed your human marriage traditions enough. You must compromise and accept dragon traditions.”

  Her eyes bugged.

  Time to return to the company.

  He turned the handle and pushed open the door. The rush of hot air burst from the fortress and eased him out.

  She shivered inside. Her shout followed him. “Exactly what about our engagement has been traditional? You big jerk!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cheryl yelled at Mal through the closed door. He flew away so fast he shrank to a dot on the horizon and disappeared.

  Then… she kept yelling.

  She pumped her arms and stomped her feet. Her fat jiggled. She shrieked.

  It was kind of invigorating.

  After the excitement wore off, she dropped naked to the floor and rested on the warm stone, her bare chest heaving as she gasped for breath.

  She had asked Mal to come to her art show. And he had agreed! Excitement zipped through her again. She rolled over on her stomach and wiggled. The stone underneath her was unforgiving but supportive, like Mal. It gave her freedom to do what she wanted.

  Pretty much the worst had happened. Somehow, she had screwed over the company and made things way worse for Mal. Everyone probably hated her.

  Instead of firing her and breaking their engagement, he’d doubled down on his commitment.

  The worst had happened, and he’d doubled down on his commitment.

  So, she would do the same. No matter what.

  She wrapped her naked body in a towel and called Amber.

  Amber greeted her bluntly. “You collaborated with our rivals.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “We have to fix it now. I can’t come get you.”

  “That’s fine for today.” Cheryl got to the point. “I need my tablet.”

  “You could use that to collaborate.”

  Come on. “I’m not going to. And if I don’t have my tablet, how am I supposed to draw the stuff you need?”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.” Amber hung up.

  She was better than her word and arrived just after Cheryl finished her minute-long shower and had pulled on jeans and another hoodie. Had Mal restocked her closet? There seemed to be more shades of blue than the last time. Of course, he was a billionaire clothier, at least for another week.

  “Here’s your tablet.” Amber put the black device and a manila folder on Mal’s huge mahogany desk. “I stole it while Mal was yelling at Darcy. Something about how Mal proposed to you all wrong. Here’s the picture file for reference.”

  Glossy photographs of models wearing the vintage outfits spilled from the manila folder.

  Cheryl guarded them. “I promise not to show them to anyone.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you do.” Amber shrugged. “Sard can’t beat us this time. We already have full production.”

  Her casual dismissal of the whole betrayal made Cheryl’s belly drop. She gripped her tablet. “I am really sorry. I didn’t mean to give my art to your rival.”

  Amber’s head tilted. “Then why did you?”

  “I don’t know.” Well, that wasn’t true. Cheryl tucked her hair behind her ear and squeezed her knees together. “I thought nobody would ever want my art, so it didn’t matter if I gave it away for free.”

  “Guess this proved you wrong.”

  “Yeah.” She lifted her stylus. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “Okay,” Amber said easily and left.

  Cheryl got to work. She drew for the rest of the day and gave herself complete freedom to compose whatever she wanted. Vintage dragon pin-ups, Precious Moments style, with big eyes and puckered lips and innocent joy. Surprised, in the Marilyn Monroe pose, wearing the red and polka-dot 50s dress. Leaning over and exposing their lacy blue bloomers beneath the sailor skirt. Looking jazzed, dancing in the rockabilly capris and T-shirt. Silly sketches, gorgeous sketches, Hallmark-inspired sketches.

  As she finished each image, she emailed it to Jasper in a constant stream so the siblings would know she wasn’t betraying them again. She’d make up for her accident with sheer volume. They’d have options to choose the best ones.

  When she took a break for crackers and peanut butter, the surreal-ness struck her again.

  Wasn’t it crazy? She was popular on the dragon world? Mal must be about to call her and admit he’d played a practical joke. It was a mistake. They all lied to make her feel better about failing her final art class.

  Except Mal would make a practical joke after Cheryl became an exhibitionist, which was somewhere on the other side of never. It wasn’t his way. And it was all too plausible that she’d accidentally betrayed him. Therefore, it followed that she was popular on Draconis.

  Weird.

  She carried her snacks back to his large desk and kept working as the sun went down and the day melted into a frosty night.

  She was probably the first human artist the dragons had ever seen. Once they discovered actual artists, then her popularity would tank.

  No. Wait. Thinking negative thoughts was how she ended up in this mess.

  Cheryl sent yet another drawing to Jasper and started afresh on a blank file.

  She had to believe in herself. This was her chance. She had to work as hard as Mal did. Sell millions so her mom no longer had to work. Make a name for herself. She had been given this opportunity. It was time to take herself seriously in the stars.

  And, heck. Maybe it was time to take herself seriously on Earth, too.

  The days passed. It was lonely working at Mal’s alone, but it was also kind of tolerable. There was still the internet. She had seasons of TV shows to catch up on. And she was better trained to handle isolation than anyone.

  After Cheryl passed the last deadline to send in pictures for the product launch, she took a break and then switched to her projects. A real website. An actual store. A place to print her art and ship it. Best practices for handling limited editions, gallery showings, and fees.

  On Wednesday, the day of the art show, Cheryl decided to dress like a real artist.

  She put on a dress and nice shoes. When Amber landed on the pad, Cheryl put on her coat, locked up the lair, and met her.

  “How did the launch go?” she asked, shivering in the icy mountain air.

  “We’ll hear the status tomorrow morning, at the 3 AM broadcast.”

  Then, Cheryl would also know if the company could be sold for enough money to keep the siblings together, or whether they’d be forced to spread across the galaxy and this was goodbye. Maybe goodbye forever. Dragons didn’t celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving. Mal said when he’d gathered his siblings for the adventure five years ago, he’d never even met Flint or Alex face to face. It could happen again.

  Cheryl put her arms around A
mber. The female dragon squeezed her tight, and they lifted effortlessly.

  It was awkward.

  Cheryl wasn’t a hugger. At least Amber had the decency to avoid eye-contact.

  It was still awkward.

  Cheryl could not imagine hugging her boss, Jasper, or the too-perfect Alex. Maybe Pyro. He wouldn’t think anything of it, at least.

  Amber rocketed them down the mountain. She flew much faster than Mal did. The freezing air heated to almost uncomfortable temperatures as it raced past.

  “I hope you found some pictures to use,” Cheryl said.

  “You sent too many.” Amber stared directly into the wind, not bothered by the harsh gusts.

  “I was expecting you to pick the best ones.” Cheryl yanked a lock of whipping hair from her mouth. The hem of her dress stretched toward her feet.

  “We intended to ship each product with one card.” Amber spoke in a conversational tone as if they happened to be squished against each other on a too-full subway car instead of squishing up against the sound barrier. “You sent us thirty. We decided to increase to three cards per outfit. Each product now contains one of the three cards. This could inspire one dragon to purchase three of each outfit to collect all the cards, making nine total purchases. Or we could face riots.”

  “Riots!”

  “Variability of the ‘free gift with purchase’ has never been attempted. We don’t know how the dragons will react.” She sighed. “But now is the time to try everything. We also don’t know what to do with the other twenty-one cards.”

  “I’m selling them on Etsy.”

  “To Draconis?”

  “No. They haven’t figured out intergalactic shipping rates yet.”

  Amber’s speed dropped like a rocket running out of fuel and she let Cheryl off on the street in front of her mom’s house.

  Cheryl stumbled, caught herself, and stretched. “It’s good to be out. I was getting cabin fever locked up in that place for so long.”

  Amber tilted her head. “You were not on an artistic retreat? By your own will?”

  “Of course not. You keep forgetting I can’t fly away like you guys.”

  “Was Mal aware of your fever?”

  “He’s the one who locked me in there.”

  “You allowed him to do so.”

  “He knows I don’t like it. I told him I’d rather not be there all alone.”

  Amber’s lips pursed. “It may not be my place to say this, but… Cheryl, I think you need to breathe more fire onto Mal.”

  She laughed. “What?”

  “He’s used to a female who snarls and claws and threatens to tear pieces off of him. It’s possible he doesn’t recognize your true feelings because you’ve not threatened bodily harm.”

  “You’re kidding.” Although he’d been pretty worried when she’d said people ripped each other’s heads off. “There’s no way he doesn’t know.”

  “He may know but he may not believe it. Females in our culture are more persuasive.”

  Well, great. “I know only female dragons can breathe fire, but—”

  “Males can breathe fire,” Amber corrected. “They must prepare by eating a large amount of brimstone. It makes them stinky.”

  Okay. Fun fact to file away.

  “I don’t know how I can be any clearer,” Cheryl said. “I can’t rip off any body parts, and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I mean, having this conversation with you is a huge deal for me. Normally I can’t express myself at all. And I’ve had so many heart-to-hearts with Mal. What else can I do? I can’t help but be me.”

  Amber had no more advice for her.

  Well, maybe an idea would occur to Cheryl. Maybe when Mal showed up to support her at the art show.

  She thanked the female dragon for the ride, wished her a good day, and headed up the cracked sidewalk to the house.

  Amber called out. “Cheryl. Thanks for being you.”

  Cheryl stopped. “You too.”

  Amber brightened, waved goodbye, and took off.

  The compliment warmed her. How lucky she had overcome her fears, gotten to know Amber, and even considered her a friend. Amber had it hard too. Everyone wanted Cheryl to be an extrovert and everyone wanted Amber to be a dominant female dragon who overshadowed her brothers. It took Amber a lot of constant effort to be who she wanted, too.

  Cheryl let herself inside the house. Her mom’s purse and keys were strewn across the living room.

  Her belly squeezed.

  She took a deep breath. In the worst case, her mom would already be in bed. But even if so—Cheryl walked around the corner.

  Her mom was sitting in the kitchen, wearing holey pajamas, finishing up a bowl of cereal. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Oh, thank goodness. It felt like they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Relief poured into her. She gave her mom a hug.

  “Whoah. Nice to see you too.” Her mom hugged her back and smiled tiredly. “How’s school?”

  “Almost over.” Cheryl took her usual stool at the breakfast bar. They didn’t have a table. “Can you come to my art show today?”

  “Oh. Today?” Her mom’s pale lips pressed together in apology. “I’ve scheduled a haircut, a bank consultation, and a physical therapy massage. Sorry.”

  Her belly twinged. “Just one hour.”

  “We also need to do grocery shopping. And unless you’d like to run the vacuum, the floor isn’t going to clean itself.”

  Her mother stood, shuffled to the sink, and rinsed her empty bowl.

  Cheryl’s lips trembled. Part of her wanted to snap Fine and take off. But it wasn’t fine. And she wasn’t a whiny kid who would run away and sulk. She was an adult who would express what she wanted. Honest, like Mal, and direct.

  “I really want you to be there,” she said.

  Her mom laughed shortly. “But I’ve come to so many of your art shows.”

  “This one’s different. It’s the capstone student-employer art show.”

  “Oh, they’re wonderful and you’re wonderful.” She set the bowl on the drying rack, came around the bar, and hugged Cheryl from behind. “The way things are, I’m going to have a bunch more to attend. You can count on that.”

  She headed down the hall to the bedroom to get dressed.

  Cheryl slid off the stool and trailed after her. Her heart flipped acrobatics in her chest. Yes, her mom had been coming to her art shows since she was old enough to hold a fat, washable marker. Their house had been filled with her crayon art, marker art, and then digital art. And, with any luck, Cheryl’s popularity would rise and she would have many future shows to come. Maybe even on Draconis.

  She could dream. It was allowed.

  But…

  “This is the most important,” she said, from the bedroom doorway.

  “Why’s that?” Her mom tugged on a turtleneck.

  “It’s my last one for college.”

  “What? It is not.” Her mom fastened dress pants for going out. “You’re only a… let’s see... Wait. Are you a senior?”

  “Next week I graduate.” Assuming her professor didn’t fail her. But if he failed her, she’d take summer credits and make the dragons pay for them. And she’d take an easier class to pass, like Optical Physics for Advanced Color Theory.

  “Well. I think I knew that. It’s been a long… life.” Her mother rubbed her tired face. She looked a lot like Mal—nearly gray with exhaustion—and now she sagged as she considered fitting the art show into her already packed one-day-off schedule. “What time is it?”

  Cheryl told her, and her frown creases deepened. “That’s right during my physical therapy.” She rubbed her neck where she’d developed a strain by putting in all the extra hours.

  “It really matters to me,” Cheryl said.

  Her mom’s voice croaked with tiredness. “Why’s that?”

  Mal was coming. “I want you to meet my employer.”

  “Your boss on the internship?” Her mom looked less and less happy.
r />   “Sort of. And,” she skipped ahead, “I’m going to be exhibiting my unpopular drawings. I’d like your support.”

  “Ugh.” Her mother sat on the bed. She dropped her head into the cradle of her palm and grimaced at Cheryl. “You know I love and support you, but I just can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t have time.”

  The rejection hurt.

  And it hurt way worse than if Cheryl had let it go and flounced off at the first no. Her mom knew it was important. Cheryl had shared her deepest feelings. Her mom stomped on them and told her the truth.

  Cheryl wasn’t good enough.

  Fine. The bitter word almost fell from her lips. Cheryl didn’t need her mom. Mal promised he would come. He was all she needed.

  But that wasn’t enough anymore.

  “Sorry, sweetie.” Her mom stood to leave.

  This conversation wasn’t over. Her mom was about to get a shock. Cheryl wasn’t going to slink off and sulk. She was staying right here. She had more to say.

  And she was going to say it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mal stalked back and forth in front of his office wall screen.

  Launch statistics scrolled across the screen. The locations of the shipments. Their estimated arrival times on Draconis. Pre-launch meetings with their retail spaces. Influencer coverage.

  He hadn’t seen Cheryl in days. He hadn’t slept in as long.

  Their rank was so far down the list they could never rebound, to say nothing of charting or reaching the top spot. And yet, he had nearly killed himself to make it. Never had it been more important. Never had he needed to succeed more than today.

  “Mal.” Amber came to a stop behind him, startling him. Her hair was out of place as if she’d just arrived from flying. “You’ve done all you can.”

  “There is still more to do,” he growled. He must do something. Something.

  “If there is, we’ll handle it as we handled the launch.”

  His siblings had assumed responsibilities with flair and skill he hadn’t realized they possessed. Several times he started on a problem only to realize one of them had already resolved it. Not only Kyan or Jasper but Amber and Alex and even Pyro.