by Starla Night
Wait. “So if I marry Mal, I’ll only have this executive office for another week?”
“Maybe two weeks. We must sell quickly to capitalize on our current assets and ensure we have enough to stay together.”
Oh. Well, for two weeks, Cheryl could certainly—
“And we will decide on our new business,” Amber continued. “One that doesn’t rely on shipping. Unless we are forced to split up as we were before, we’ll create the new company with you as the head executive.”
Ugh. “As long as I’ve married Mal, I have to be the leader of his company?”
“Better you than a female who takes it all for herself. And that is the best scenario. If he marries the wrong female, he may get imprisoned, barred from seeing us, or never work again.”
Conflict raged within Cheryl. Her past and future collided.
On the one side was her familiar, safe intern desk. She was invisible, an afterthought, but able to relax and slack. She hungered for recognition and love. She daydreamed and did not act. She drew secret pictures of Mal’s abs and drooled in a one-sided, secret crush with no future. She was a kid who pretended to be an adult who ran away from any possible responsibility. Even over herself.
On the other side was Mal.
He saw straight into her soul and offered her a way to reach those secret daydreams. He made her secret crush real and returned her desire with quadruple the passion. The executive office was the highest recognition and responsibility. She couldn’t relax. She couldn’t slack.
Did she want to be an adult who stepped forth into her destiny or a child who ran away and hid from responsibility?
She sucked in a breath, terrified of what she was about to say, and well aware that she couldn’t un-say it. “Can’t I order Mal to run his own company?”
“You must deal with representatives from Draconis.”
“No getting out of it?”
Amber shook her head. “You may force them to recognize Mal as your proxy after you are married in the dragon way.”
Which meant having a baby dragon and getting recognized by Mal’s mother. Which would be at least nine months, even if she’d gotten pregnant on their first try. And she didn’t feel very pregnant right now. She felt scared and sticky and helpless.
“So before the company is sold, we have to launch a number one product.” Cheryl worried the hoodie hem between her fingers. It was Mal’s last chance to beat his ruthless, idea-stealing rivals. “How long do we have?”
“To decide our next product? Today.”
Oh. Well. Cheryl sat back on the couch again. “That’s impossible.”
“For an all-new product, yes.” Amber sat beside her, clearly intending to work together to resolve this problem. “Now dragons have become accustomed to outfitting their human forms. It’s time to move beyond the staples and introduce variety using the prototypes we’ve already created.”
Amber intended to go through the prototype warehouse on the lower floors and search the rejects. And, from the way she was acting, she expected Cheryl to come with her.
“Mal’s been looking at new products,” Cheryl hedged.
“He believes that only he is capable of doing this job.” Amber’s eyes flashed. Some of the dominant female dragon, so frequently suppressed, glowered through. “We must convince him that although he is the CEO, he is not the only officer. We all care about this company. We all want it to succeed.”
Her speech was stirring.
“And you need me?” She had a lunch appointment. “Are you sure?”
Amber glowed her commanding presence into Cheryl. “You are the most important part.”
“I am?”
“You will convince Mal I am correct.”
Oh god. “I will?”
“I will show you.” Amber grabbed her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Cheryl hurried out to her intern desk. “I’ve got to text somebody real quick about a meeting.”
It sounded like they were working through lunch.
Chapter Eighteen
Mal listened to a recording of the news he’d missed when he slept through the 3 AM transmission.
“Onyx Corporation rank plummeted today when it was announced their port privileges were donated. In related news, the matriarch of the Onyx family attacked her male escort on a pleasure cruise after it was revealed that he did not wish to become her mate. The male was rescued from a life support pod outside the Nebulus Cluster with all his limbs intact.”
It didn’t happen. His brain refused.
Yes, his mother had always liked their uncle, but not as a mate. Right?
Exactly how long had Mal been away from the family estate? And why hadn’t their uncle warned them about the risks when Alex arranged for him to take their mother on the cruise?
Maybe she’d gotten too deep into the aphrodisiac wine and lost her mind.
But knowing how she’d been publicly humiliated—on top of discovering their lies—didn’t undo the consequences.
While Mal had been sleeping in Cheryl’s soft arms, his mother had called a meeting to dismantle the company and summon them home, effective immediately. Only the promise that Mal wasn’t there to hear her decree was because he was actively making dragonlets caused her to relent. She wanted to meet Cheryl, of course. As soon as she returned from the nebula, Mal would take Cheryl to visit.
But it was already too late. His mother had permanently discarded their family port privileges. There was no way to reverse her impulsive decision. The only choice was to go forward.
Mal scratched meaningless lines on his yellow legal notepad, racking his brain for options to keep the company alive.
His mother could put their name on a wait list for the next donated port privilege. Maybe his great great grandchildren would be living when the opportunity arose.
The other option was to partner with an aristocrat who had port privileges. Marry an aristocratic female.
Or marry the Empress.
Mal would lose control. The company would be disbanded. The aristocrats would win.
His pen cracked. Ink leaked onto his fingers and stained them black.
He had no time for these thoughts. The future of the company would wait. Right now, only one thing mattered.
Launching the final product.
Since his mother’s actions caused their stock to plummet, they had to push even harder to get their rank anywhere near the top one hundred, to say nothing of the top one.
It was just… it was just...
Not impossible. He gritted his teeth. It was going to be hard. Good thing he had already gotten most of a night’s sleep.
He wiped his fingers on a tissue and hit the button to play it again.
A knock sounded on his door.
He paused the recording. His siblings knew not to disturb him during his emergency thinking time.
Mal shouted, “Darcy? In!”
As he had predicted, the human pushed open the door and entered. “I heard you’ve got to act fast on this launch or it’s curtains for everyone.”
Mal didn’t know about draperies, but the essence of the statement was true.
“Let’s talk strategy.” Darcy strode to the conference table and folded his tall form into his customary seat. “Have you decided on lingerie?”
Mal crossed the office with a snarl. “It’s impractical.”
“It’s sexy.” He grinned. “Think of your blushing bride. Don’t you want to see her in lingerie?”
That was something Mal hadn’t considered. Cheryl clothed in lace and ribbons, blushing shyly on the bed, waiting for him to pounce? His cock declared its readiness for that with a hot pulse.
“I prefer to rip it off her and see her naked,” he said.
“There’s nothing wrong with naked.” Darcy held up his palms in surrender. His devilish smile gleamed. “But isn’t getting there the fun part?”
There were many fun parts. Getting naked was only one o
f them.
“And dragon females would love to feel sexy for their males, right?” Darcy pushed.
“No.” Mal stalked to the conference table and collapsed in the lead chair with a thump. He’d thought long and hard. “This will never work.”
Jasper and Alex noticed his open door and took their seats at the conference table.
Mal laid out the issues. “Dragon females do not blush. They select their males and act decisively to secure them. If the male is unable to mate, he must flee or risk losing his limbs.”
“Harsh.” Darcy continued to grin blithely, unconcerned about this very real issue. “So if a dragon male wishes to secure his female, how does he let her know?”
Mal looked at Alex and Jasper.
They seemed edgy and did not meet his gaze.
Well, it was a difficult question. Pyro would be able to answer. None of the rest of them had much experience with dragon females.
“I would hang out in the area,” Mal declared. “Remain in the proximity so when the female reached her peak of lust, I could position myself to be the recipient of her hormone spray.”
“Sounds sexy.” He rested his chin on his fist. “Or you could give her lingerie. As a token of your interest.”
The idea was not without merit. If a female must wait for a male to gift her with lingerie, Mal’s family would still have their port privileges and his mother would still be on a cruise with their uncle. They could save everyone grief (and body parts).
However, it was still impossible. “We do not have time to start a tradition. If we must train our customers why they want our products, we’ve already lost.”
He looked to Alex and Jasper for agreement.
They both avoided his gaze.
“Right?” he pushed.
Darcy answered him. “Okay, do you have any better ideas?”
They all remained silent.
Mal pinched his brow. He’d been so busy last night tending to Cheryl that he hadn’t continued his research. “No.”
“You should see a few lingerie models before you decide.”
“Models are Pyro’s business.”
“I meant female dragon lingerie models.” Darcy leaned back in his seat. “I had some favorite outfits brought over. Where’s Amber?”
“In the warehouse.” Jasper rose hurriedly. “I’ll request her presence.”
“I’ll get the outfits.” Darcy left Mal’s office.
Jasper glanced at Alex and backed out of the office as though escaping.
Alex shifted.
Mal released his brow and stood. “Do we know where Pyro is?”
“Thailand, in prison. We negotiated his release, but he says he prefers to spend his last days there. He finds it restful. Shall Kyan go recall him?”
“He can brainstorm in the prison. Where’s Cheryl?”
Alex examined his smooth fingernails. “In the warehouse.”
“With Amber?” Hmm. Amber had requested to see Cheryl personally. Mal had assumed Amber wished to confirm her well-being, but now it seemed like something more. His hackles rose. “What are they doing?”
“Talking.” He cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on his knee. “I believe.”
Amber wasn’t much of a talker, and neither was Cheryl.
Why was Alex acting so strangely? He was smooth and sophisticated. His exotic coloration intrigued humans and charmed dragons. He never fidgeted.
“Talking about what?” Mal asked.
Alex sucked in a breath and cringed. “About—”
“Mal.” Kyan’s soft, commanding voice issued from the intercom in the center of the conference table.
Alex froze.
Mal dove to answer. Kyan only called for a few reasons. Most of them were deadly. Mal depressed the response key. “What?”
“There’s someone odd waiting in our building lobby.”
“Odd how?”
“He wouldn’t give his name to Jeanine even after she threatened for me to throw him out of the building. I recognized him, but I don’t think he’s seen me yet.”
What the hell? Kyan’s tone implied it was the last person they’d expect. Their mother was still in the Outer Rim. Their siblings were all accounted for. Their father was dead.
“Who is it?” Mal demanded.
“The CEO of our rivals,” Kyan said. His last-person-anyone-would-expect assessment was accurate. “Sard Carnelian.”
Chapter Nineteen
Amber dragged Cheryl through the stuffy, dim warehouse, which comprised two lower floors of the office building, like an eager girlfriend going on a shopping expedition.
Cheryl hated shopping.
But she was starting to like Amber. The quiet female dragon wasn’t scary so much as she was shy like Cheryl and reserved her words for important observations rather than meaningless chatter.
The warehouse was laid out like a confused department store. The old, rejected prototypes remained as though on display, pinned to lint-dotted boards or hung on dusty mannequins.
“I go through them occasionally.” Amber stroked a little black dress with buckles up the slit sides. “Some of my favorites did not make the final cut.”
“You’d look great in that,” Cheryl said. Amber was petite and slender, and the little black dress would hang on her like a fashion model. “I’d look terrible.”
“That’s why it’s still in the warehouse.” Amber put it away like a regretful impulse purchase, something she loved but knew she’d never have a chance to wear. “In human form, I’m small. Most dragon females are your size or larger. We must choose a product that looks attractive on your body.”
Oh. “I thought you wanted to launch a popular outfit.”
“It is our mission,” Amber said firmly, not appearing to realize the two wishes were opposite.
They passed row after row of outfits. Togas, kimonos, ponchos, dresses. Maybe Cheryl would look great in them. Maybe they’d all look terrible. Fabrics blurred as they moved from one cubicle to another, and Amber held up each item reverently, as enthusiastic about this item as she was fifty items ago. She was built for this.
After ten minutes, Cheryl wanted to rip her own eyeballs out.
“How do you feel about this?” Amber placed a maxi tube dress against Cheryl’s chest. “It will show off ample curves.”
“Ugh.”
“So, no.” Amber put it back, selected a sausage-tight mermaid sheath, and held the neon green sequins up to Cheryl’s face. “How do you feel about this?”
God, please make the torture stop.
Cheryl rejected it with a head shake and forestalled Amber before she tried anything else on the too-tight-too-loud nightclub rack. “The only clothes I like is what I’m already wearing. So why do you keep asking how I feel?”
“Because we have already sold many outfits that give dragons the feeling of comfort.” Amber moved to the next rack. “I think we should move boldly and select outfits that give a different feeling.”
“Like discomfort?” Cheryl touched slinky leather pants.
“If it causes a stronger feeling, then yes. Even discomfort can be powerful.”
They stalked the aisles and the stuffiness of the costumes got to Cheryl again. “I’m supposed to meet someone.” She was supposed to be outside, breathing freely in the parking lot, and signing a print for the mysterious DragonLord C.
“Pick an attractive outfit first.”
Gah.
There were a million other things she’d rather be doing right now. Including working on her portfolio so she could knock the socks off employers and get a passing grade—and maybe an offer of permanent employment.
But Amber was certain Cheryl needed to choose. And this was for Mal. His last chance for a number one ranking rested on today’s decision. She carried on, fighting her irritation, touching outfits that meant nothing to her and shaking her head at everything Amber wanted her to try on.
“So everything you wear gives you some feeling?” C
heryl asked finally in frustration.
“Yes.” Amber held up a coconut bra.
Cheryl snorted and moved on. “No to the grass skirt also.”
Amber put it back, her lips pursing as though in disappointment.
“Even your current outfit?” Cheryl pressed.
Amber looked down at her conservative dress and bright tights. She hesitated a long time. But eventually, she said, “Yes. It helps me feel quiet.”
Huh. If Amber got any quieter, she was going to become mute. “You want to be quiet?”
“When I remain quiet, I can live as I wish.”
That was a weird way to answer. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t want to take over.” Her golden eyes crackled, and her red hair flared with the fiery power contained within her small body. “I want my brothers to have a chance to shine. And why must I rule simply because I’m female? Mal can shout and growl all he wants, but a single wrong comment from me sends everyone into a panic. I don’t want that. I remain quiet so I can choose my own destiny.”
So, Amber dressed to suppress. “It looks good on you.”
“Thanks.”
And how was Cheryl any different? She dressed in hoodies, jeans, and T-shirts because she could blend into the landscape. Nobody noticed a wallflower.
Nobody except Mal.
His notice crackled down on her, changing her life forever.
She’d had time to come to terms with the marriage decree. He still could have married anyone. Whether it was closeness or consciousness of her crush, he had selected her. And she certainly hadn’t been trying to get his attention.
No, if she’d been trying to get his attention, she’d have worn something revealing. Something like…
She paused in front of the Daisy Dukes, short-shorts, and hot pants display. God, they would look awful on her. Her fat flab would hang out everywhere. Disgusting.
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.