by Starla Night
“Yes, but we don’t have three weeks. Mother will be here. Build her an intergalactic brand before she arrives! Preferably before tomorrow’s lunch.”
“I will work the problem with you as a team.”
“But you’re Mother’s fiancé, which is as good as my slave.” She unleashed her claws again. Her face elongated in rage and a thick, meaty tail emerged from her tail bone as she hunched into the start of a terrifying dragon. “I could chew on you. Slice off your hands. Take out your eyes.”
His scales rose in defense, and it felt like horrifying shivers over his body. “Please don’t.”
“Confirm you are Mother’s fiancé.”
“It would be a lie.”
“It’s not a lie if you obey, slave!” She drew her razor claw along his cheek. The human skin parted as his dragon scales arose to protect him. Her claw sliced through with an electric, painful zing, and a hot bead of blood froze on his cheek. “I’ll take your eye!”
His fingers flexed and his eyeballs twitched. He wanted to keep these pieces. Among the many other great pleasures of life, fingers were necessary to stroke Rose and give her relaxing massages, and his eyes were necessary for seeing her look adorable. He wanted to keep them very much.
Jasper held his breath.
Larimar’s stomach growled. Long, low, hungry gurgles.
She glanced down at her midsection, then retracted her claws and rested on her heels. “You are much harder to break than an ordinary low-caste. This must be because you worked at Space Voyages Inc., the most profitable business in the Outer Rim. That is why I knew you must establish our company.” She flicked one of her claws long again. “But you are mine now. So I can take an eye.”
He swallowed. “Your company will suffer.”
“You will suffer.”
“Consider how much slower I would move without depth perception.”
“That would be your fault for displeasing me!”
He didn’t argue. “The result is the same. Lowered performance, slower growth, less profit.”
She flounced away from him, turned on her heel, and stormed back. “I could spray you with my lust hormones. You’d become my slave, unable to turn me aside. I know how to do it. My mother has used this attack many times.”
He’d rather be Maced. “And how long were her victims stupefied? I thought you wanted to set up this company quickly.”
“I do! You are the one slowing me.” Her eyes changed to dragon pupils with furious glowing threads. “And I am an aristocrat who will not allow insubordination!”
Her stomach growled again, long and squeezy sounding.
She covered her belly.
“Return my clothes and phone,” he urged. “I will acquire food. No one negotiates well when they’re hungry.”
Strangely, his words reached her, and Larimar returned his clothes and phone. She balked at removing the ankle chain. “You are still Mother’s fiancé, and therefore, my slave.”
The phone rang in his hands. He answered.
His brother, Kyan, spoke tightly. “Brace yourself. My team is setting an explosion for—”
“Please don’t.” He looked to the sky and spied the dark dot of Kyan flying against the distant white. “I am in no need of rescue.”
He made a skeptical snort.
“We are negotiating a business contract. There is no need for violence.”
“She threatened to take your eyes.”
“Outside violence,” he amended. “The best way to help me is if you will care for Rose. She relied on me today and I failed her. In my absence, can you—”
Larimar’s claws extended and clasped his mouth in a razor hold. Her eyes shifted to fierce dragon and smoke curled from her mouth in fury. “End this useless conversation.”
“…please care for her.”
Kyan sighed roughly, which Jasper took for an affirmative. Jasper ended the call.
“Another useless deviation like that and I will destroy you,” Larimar vowed.
“It was not useless.” He dialed his caterer. “Mental health is as important as physical health to peak performance.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I have never prioritized mental health.”
“Then imagine how much better you perform if you prioritized.”
“My performance is perfect.”
“If you have never prioritized mental health, and you have no baseline.”
She blinked.
The caterer answered, and Jasper placed an extensive food order, then contracted with transporters since he doubted Larimar would consider the errand worthy of her aristocratic status.
A dragon courier dropped off two crates and Larimar opened box after box of serving trays, appetizers, salads, sides, entrees, and desserts. She hovered over the boxes paralyzed. “Why did you order so many?”
“You are new to Earth. This is what I buy for a new recruit welcome lunch.”
She dipped her spoon into mustardy potato salad, miso soup, and tacos verde. Then, she kept tasting.
His stomach growled. He was calm enough to be hungry.
She sat cross-legged on the platform and savored the food with little murmurs of appreciation. Then, she sneered, “Aren’t you sorry you disobeyed me? You’re hungry. And you will be until you obey.”
“If I intended to sabotage you, I’d refuse food.”
“Lies.”
He tapped his brain. “Peak performance.”
After some time, she carried over a box of potato salad. “Here.”
He was a little hungry. Jasper thanked her and consumed the rich salad sprinkled with spicy pickle crunches.
“I do not have to force you to be Mother’s fiancé. You will face her wrath when she arrives, and your only hope of survival is that she values you more alive than dead. You will accomplish that by creating the most lucrative company for me. Do you dare to disagree?”
He shook his head.
“Then.” She straightened her shoulders, pleased. “Stop delaying and start performing.”
“Unchain me from the wall.”
She hesitated but eventually did so with a growl. “If you try anything, I’ll eviscerate you.”
“Try anything like what?”
“Escape. Sabotage. Anything.”
“You have outlined the reason I am dedicated to creating this company for you. So, let’s begin.” They adjourned inside to the head conference room and he unpacked a new box of dry erase markers, then poised in front of the wall-sized whiteboard. “What kind of company do you wish to create?”
“The most lucrative.”
“Lucrative now, or lucrative in six months?”
“Yes.”
So, lucrative now. “Which industry? What are your starting resources? Do you have a business plan?”
She grew excited, sitting up in her chair and resting her palms on the desk. “Yes, I have a business plan. The industry isn’t important. And the Onyx Corporation is my starting resource.”
He recapped the marker with a click. “It wasn’t part of the marriage offer so I returned my share of the business.”
“You still have access to the building.”
“I do not. I can’t even brew a cup of coffee.”
“Oh.” Her lips flattened in a line. “Well, it doesn’t matter either. Once we show a profit—exponential profit—then Mother will be eager to invest.”
He tapped the base of the marker against his palm. “You have no capital?”
“Of course I have an allowance. And there are your liquid assets, and your lair—”
“My female needs my lair.”
“Until she’s no longer your female.” Her eyes glittered. “But very well. Here is my capital.”
And he noted her modest numbers but kept quiet about their significance.
For the treasured daughter of a high-level aristocrat, an adviser to the Empress, the numbers nowhere close to what the Onyx Corporation spent on a single product launch. But it was enough for prototyping.
He finished his notes and silent evaluation. “And your business plan?”
“Yes!” She straightened again, eager. “It has three steps.”
He poised to transcribe.
“First, acquire the most lucrative product. Second, sell that product to Draconis at the highest prices. Third, reinvest our profits to expand and repeat the first two steps.”
He finished transcribing the plan. It looked like 1 - Acquire; 2 - Sell; 3 - Profit. She beamed and nodded once, satisfied.
Jasper pushed. “That’s it?”
“That is it.” She clasped her hands, claws entwined. “I’ve wanted to run my own company for years. I’ve dreamed about this. You’re the first person I’ve ever shared my plan with.” She gazed on the whiteboard and sighed. “It’s perfect. When can you start?”
“Start?”
“With acquiring the most lucrative product and shipping it to Draconis?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“You will need to fill in a few details.” He made new bullet points on the next wall. “Which product?”
“The most lucrative.”
“Highest price point? Cheapest to produce and ship? Most return on investment?”
“Yes, all of those.”
“The highest-priced products in the Empire are spaceships. Earth lacks the raw materials, knowledge, and production facilities, so you should relocate to the Outer Rim.”
“Obviously I do not mean the highest priced item in the Empire.”
“Cheapest to produce and ship are gemstones; once these reach Draconis, however, they are also easiest to reproduce by local labs, so you must reinvest in new products and watch the old bestsellers make money for other dragons.”
“Ugh. How irritating.”
“And it increases the initial investment. Human clothing and art, such as is exported by the Onyx Corporation, now requires a huge investment to flood the market with our products before the local companies do so; consequently, the brand itself—like Carnelian Clothiers—sells more than just patterns. We sell authenticity. Your company will have to establish your brand from scratch, which requires a massive outlay.”
“Of course I don’t want to sell something easily reproduced.”
“Then, determining the items with the highest return on investment is an infinite process of testing and refining. Markets, politics, trends, fads—everything affects the bottom line in intergalactic sales.”
“No.” She held up her hands. “I have studied Earth ever since your first product launches. The most lucrative product is always obvious.”
“Earth is teeming with products.”
“But there are only three versions, so selecting the most superior version will be easy.”
He tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t because you are only in acquisitions. You lack a leader’s vision. That’s why you need a dominant female, like me, to lead a company.” She tsked and shook her head. “It’s incredible your siblings have done so well. Your sister must be secretly leading you.”
Anxiety squiggled in his belly. “The Gentleman’s Society investigated us and they concluded that we are not reliant on her nor in violation of un-dragon-like behavior.”
“The Gentleman’s Society is composed of weak-minded males. They missed the obvious, just like you.”
“Which is?”
“Take this human food, cheese.” She lofted the small triangle she’d carried in from her lunch. “I well know that there is only cheddar, pepper jack, and limburger.”
“Limburger,” he repeated.
“Of the three, the best is pepper jack.”
“Actually—”
“This is determined not only by my palate, which is refined, but also by sales figures, which I know about because of my friend Fire Opal in the Gneiss family that exports cheeses.”
“Yes, of those three, pepper jack is understandable, but—”
“In the realm of coffee, there are three types: black, iced, and raspberry cinnamon mocha with caramel-drizzled whipped cream.”
“No, there—”
“Iced is superior. And in the realm of your own expertise, human clothing, you always debut three outfits with every launch; one of which is the clear winner. For example, three pinup dresses, three cotton robes, three styles of jeans.”
“Because—”
“You will provide me with products that have not gone to Draconis, I will evaluate which one will succeed, and we will only export the successful product, thereby minimizing loss and maximizing profits.”
“There are more than three,” Jasper finally broke in. “Humans have vast, mind-boggling creativity, and we didn’t want to overwhelm the Empire with choices, so we always selected a specific clothing type—say, the jeans—and then narrowed it to ten styles based on our own preferences. Alex tested samples on a few dragons, who selected the top three to launch on Draconis.”
She eyed him skeptically. “Ten styles of jeans? Can there be ten entire styles?”
“There are many more than skinny, high-rise, and lime green distressed.”
“Green is a superior color. I suppose you could have made the skinny and high-rise in green also.”
“Or in boot-cut, flared, straight-leg, cropped, and a multitude of colors, with or without embroidery, lace, and so forth humans imagine every day.”
She frowned.
“They are overflowing with creativity. It’s like a fountain. A geyser. All who land and immerse themselves in the culture have conspired to shelter the precious fountain from our influence, because, with our dragon-like efficiency, we may crush or run it dry.”
“Explain,” she ordered. “I don’t understand half of what you just said.”
“You cannot present a small sample size of any one human-designed object because there is infinite variety.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t avoid your job, Jasper. I know that you’re lying, just like I know this cheese I’m holding is melted cheddar.”
“It’s brie.” He tapped the label on the top. “Which is a different cheese.”
She focused on it. “I thought that was the company name.”
“Taste it.”
“I am not fond of cheddar.” She unwrapped the plastic and nibbled, a frown still marring her face, and her brows lightened. She regarded the cheese and popped the whole thing in her mouth. “It’s different. Creamy. Good.”
He made a mental note. “Many humans enjoy it. It is one of the most popular semi-soft cheeses.”
“Why wasn’t this variety exported instead of cheddar?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must.”
“We conduct testing, but receive useless data when we ask the wrong questions. Cheese, clothing, and art are not measured like the gun that fires the most bullets is the winner. They are matters of taste and creativity, things with which dragons have little experience or talent. We have launched a hundred outfits, but our warehouse holds far more failures. It is the same at Carnelian Clothiers.”
“Perhaps we should add varieties to existing markets,” she mused. “Draconis could enjoy a fourth cheese. How funny that no one else thought of it. Why not debut four instead of three?”
“There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of fermented milk curds.” He checked his resources. “Yes, there are over 1800 known varieties of cheese.”
She blanched even paler than white-blonde. “1800?”
“Earth’s strength is its diversity, its creativity, and the human ability to continue to work a problem to discover new solutions even after we have ruled on an optimum. There is no shortcut.”
“Perhaps we should choose a different market. Not cheese, with 1800 options, but perhaps coffee drinks.”
“There are more coffee drinks. Each type of bean, condition of growing, method of roasting, grind size, and the ratio of additives contribute to a different final drink.”
She paled e
ven more. “Alcohol?”
“Are you referring to fermented or distilled?”
“Ah…fermented?”
“Beer, wine, cider, mead, or sake? Keep in mind that each of these will vary based on their original materials, fermenting conditions, additives, and so forth.”
“Oh, I meant distilled.”
“Gin, brandy, whiskey—”
“Stop! Stop.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I will export cheese. The original exporters made a mistake by exporting cheddar when they should have exported a superior version like brie.” She brightened. “Yes, this will be easy. So many low-castes on Earth do not have the refined palate of an aristocrat. I will review all the products exported by low-castes, correct their mistakes by exporting the superior fourth product, and profit.”
“Do you propose to taste 1800 cheeses?”
She shook her head, amused at his simplicity. “Of course not. How could you acquire all of them?”
“Acquiring them is no problem.”
“Really?”
“Yes, it’s a simple matter of compiling a checklist and organizing couriers. A few specialty cheeses may require detective work so I will assign it to more eager new hires.” He reviewed the brie wrapper. “If we collect one sample of each cheese at about this size…say, 20 grams, just for an estimate…that’s about 36,000 grams…factor in wrapping and it will take up a few boxes of space; we could store the entire product test in this conference room.”
“Yes, but this will take too long.” She huffed. “What’s the most popular cheese on Earth? I will export that one.”
He reviewed internet articles. “It depends on the country.”
“How can that be?”
“Taste, Larimar, and human variety.”
“Well, then what’s the most popular cheese in your country?”
“America?” He checked the internet again. “For eating on another food or for eating by itself?”
“By itself, of course.”
“Cheddar.”
She grimaced. “Why am I surprised? Humans are lesser than low-caste males. You would share bad taste.”
“I can limit my acquisitions to only the most popular.”
“No, no. That’s what the exporting family tried. Otherwise, how would Draconis have ended up with cheddar? The other popular flavors must be worse.” She shook her head, new determination in her eyes. “To determine the most superior, I must eat every flavor myself.” She flicked her fingers at him. “Very well. How fast can we complete this step and begin selling the most superior product?”