Never Deal with Dragons Read Free Page A

semiannual apartment purges. I still don’t know whether Emory was really mad, or whether he saw my mistake as the perfect opportunity to make his life easier, but he’d immediately announced my demotion to the entire staff. Instead of being the lead arbitrator of his Reparations department, Emory installed me as his “administrative assistant.” I’d been stuck under his thumb ever since.
    When both feet were flat on the floor, I turned to face him, and had just enough time to note he was still drop-dead gorgeous. He was also amused and absolutely clean. There wasn’t even a speck of bodily fluid on his obviously expensive suit. The fact did not improve my mood.
    “What the hell are you doing here?” The farmer looked up at my exclamation, and I gave him a harried smile.
    I turned back to Trian. I didn’t know why he was here or how he’d managed to find me in the building, and I didn’t care. When he’d left, I’d cried for a week straight. Then, with the help of my roommate, Carol, I’d picked myself up off the floor and said good riddance to the lying bastard.
    At the time, I swore I never wanted to see him again. And now, staring into his grinning face, I realized my feelings hadn’t changed in the slightest.
    “Today’s a business trip for me, sugar.”
    My hand itched to slap him. How dare he assume I’d allow him to waltz into my place of business like we were on friendly terms? When Trian took those documents, Emory forced me to disclose the loss to the DRACIM oversight board. DRACIM’s upper management had been understandably concerned when the oversight board told them about the loss. They’d wholeheartedly approved of my demotion. Since then, I’d been Emory’s virtual slave, fetching cups of coffee and managing his entire department while my former peers watched me with pitying eyes
    I moved to escort Trian personally out of my life forever, but I didn’t get the chance. He calmly straightened the cuffs of his suit before letting himself out of my office, tossing a casual “I’ll be in the waiting room” over his shoulder before slamming the door in my face.
    Furious, I grasped the knob and started to follow, but Isiwyth chose that moment for another dry heave, and although not much came out, it did remind Mr. Sompston that his Annabelle was in pieces on my office floor. Emory shouted something unintelligible—which was probably for the best—and Mr. Sompston wailed in despair.
    I glared at the door’s wood paneling, silently warning Trian that I’d deal with him later, and turned back to the farmer. This fiasco needed to be wrapped up quickly. I had only fifteen minutes before my ten o’clock appointment, and I needed five of those to boot a very irritating someone out of my waiting room. I laid a comforting hand on the back of the distraught farmer, and waited until he’d exhausted the worst of his tears.
    “Mr. Sompston, I know there’s nothing we can do to get back what you’ve lost, but we can honor Annabelle’s memory. Just south of this office, we’re building a new barn to house some of our livestock. Would it be okay if I asked them to name it after Annabelle? I’m sure that if she were here it would make her happy knowing other animals were being cared for in a building bearing her name.”
    The farmer looked up, eyes red-rimmed but hopeful. He swallowed audibly before he spoke. “R-r-really? You could do that?” He wiped awkwardly at his runny nose with a sleeve. I crossed the room to grab a box of tissues from my storage closet.
    Through the small reception window between my office and the waiting room, I could see Trian sprawled in a chair, taking advantage of the full view of the entertainment we were providing. I snarled and yanked the tissues from my cabinet. When I looked back, Trian simply watched me, his gaze dark and probing, as if I were an intriguing puzzle to be arranged neatly, admired, and shoved back into its box. I resisted the urge to look