Chapter Four

OLLIE

Mia and I were swapping unflattering observations on the other dragons present. Neither of us knew who any of them were, but we could make educated guesses based on accents.

"I suppose name badges are a bit mundane for us," Mia said.

"How much longer do you think they'll—oh my God." I interrupted myself. "Who is that?"

Instead of sighing or rolling her eyes the way Jack had started doing, Mia stood on tiptoe and followed my awestruck gaze. "Who?" she asked. "The redheaded guy with the beard?"

I revised my impression of her intelligence. "The tall one with the shoulders. Black shirt and black jeans." Along with dark hair, and did I mention shoulders? He was moving decisively through the throng, bootheels striking the floor in a way that might indicate temper or might simply be supreme self-confidence. He knew other dragons would move out of his way.

Lean-cheeked and dark-browed, his face was set in stern lines that made my knees weak. This was a dragon who knew what he wanted and took it. I hoped that would include me.

He was heading in our direction, closing on us fast. I'd opened my mouth and started to say God knew what but something to make him notice me, when Mia spoke over the top of my incoherent babble.

"Archer," she said. "This is Ollie Shaw."

Oh great, her brother had arrived. What bloody awful timing. Wait a minute—the only person next to us was Mr Sex God himself. He smiled slightly at her, before glancing at me. I'd thought the first Mortimer grandson I'd seen would level Troy. This guy would have the Martians invading to fight over his square jaw and piercing grey eyes.

"Hi," I said, and hoped my voice hadn't come out sounding as squeaky as I feared.

He nodded at me, not unfriendly but not friendly. And that was the final nail in my coffin because dark, powerful and emotionally unavailable? It was as if he'd read my teenage diary and was role-playing every one of my fantasies. Almost every one—he hadn't yet shoved me up against the wall and fucked me. I flicked my tongue over suddenly dry lips and wondered if he could see how ready I was to do anything he told me.

"Good to meet you," I said belatedly, ducking my head in an attempt at a respectful salute to the head of a family. It didn't work too well because I couldn't tear my eyes from his face. From the dark eyebrows that were drawing together as I continued staring at him. "I'm from Tunbridge Wells." I scarcely knew what I was saying, just that I didn't want him to leave. "Mia's been keeping me company."

His eyes narrowed on me, and how the hell did that make him even sexier? "Has she?" His voice was deep, with a dangerous note that thrilled right to my cock.

"Yes." That was definitely a squeak, damn it. "She's very nice." Oh my God, would someone take me outside and shoot me?

His expression remained stern. "I'm aware of that." He glanced at her, seeming to forget my existence. "Let's go, Mia."

She gave me a grin that let me know she was fully aware of her brother's effect on me. "Catch you later, Ollie," she said, and they left.

I stared forlornly after the man of my dreams, studying his magnificently wide shoulders and narrow hips and wondering where the Golden Ratio fitted into human anatomy. His body was so perfect, it had to be involved somehow.

"Hey." Jack nudged my arm. "Earth to Ollie."

"Yeah?" But I was still watching Mia's brother, dazed from thoughts of all that dark, brooding, muscular power holding me down.

"What's wrong—oh, for God's sake. Don't tell me you're drooling over Archer Talbot." Jack sounded exasperated.

"I'm not drooling. And why shouldn't I?"

"The Talbots are trouble."

"Yeah?" I turned to him, even more intrigued by that statement.

"I don't know any details, but Dad's always told me there's trouble in that family," Jack confessed. "Who've you been talking to, and what have you found out while I've been pumping Nate Mortimer?"

I deserved a medal for not following that one up. "I was talking to Mia Talbot."

Jack's shoulders slumped, and a sigh escaped him. A sigh I couldn't remember having heard before this meeting but which I had grown swiftly sick of over the last few hours, ever since he decided he was head-elect of the family and that I wasn't taking things seriously enough. "Of course you were. Shortcut to getting into her brother's pants."

I treated that with the contempt it deserved by ignoring it. "I'm sure you know all about the trouble between the Mortimers and Fortescues."

He leaned in closer. "The what? Tell me."

I didn't have much detail, but I made it sound as intriguing and important as I could to prove I was representing our family equally as well as he was. I wasn't here just to hook up. Well, not only to hook up.

Jack told me what Nate Mortimer and his partner, Alex Teague, had been talking to him about. They were sounding out the younger generation about families mixing more freely.

"Stupid," Jack condemned. "It's asking for trouble."

"Is it?" I was surprised by his dismissiveness. "Don't you think this current situation is ridiculous? We've come to a meeting of every family in the country, yet we only know three of them. Why do we do that?"

"Because it's our territory, and I'm not having another dragon close to my treasure."

Reminded, I cupped my left hand around the silver cuff on my right wrist. It was still there, safe, untouched by strange dragons.

"I've always said you're unnaturally laid-back for a dragon, Ollie," Jack told me. "You don't have the instincts the rest of us do."

He'd said it often over the years, but I'd always taken it as teasing. Now, though, it sounded as if he meant it and that I was somehow inferior to every other dragon. I shouldn't have been surprised by the judgement, but it hurt to hear it from Jack. I was so unsettled that I didn't even pick up on his use of the d-word.

"Look, there's Dad. I'm going to find out what Mortimer had to say at the meeting. You'd better not come; he might not be allowed to share it widely."

Jack had sworn nothing would change between us when he married Lisa, and though we didn't see as much of one another, everything else had stayed almost the same. But it looked like our friendship wasn't going to survive his status. A wave of misery hit me. Jack and I had done almost everything together since we were young kids. We'd giggled together over our first porn, had our first hangovers together, applied for our first jobs together. Despite the fact he was only into women, he'd been my wingman when I first went to a gay club. Right up until I'd realised clubs were my natural habitat and I didn't need a wingman to get laid.

I trudged over to the buffet table that had been put out at some point when Mia and I had been gossiping. Maybe I'd go for a spa treatment after lunch. Jack wouldn't notice I'd gone, and he obviously didn't think I was doing anything of use here.

Having loaded a plate with sandwiches bursting with tuna and sweetcorn mayonnaise, I poured a glass of fruit juice. I was left with the problem that there was nowhere to sit down and eat. I was having to juggle a glass in one hand and a plate in the other, which left me with no hand free to eat with.

I edged over to a quiet corner filled with briefcases, laptop cases and handbags, where no one would disturb me. Putting my glass on the carpet, I hewed off a mouthful of delicious, soft white bread stuffed with tuna mayo. Unhealthy, and I'd hate myself for this later, but right now, it was what I needed to feel better. I put the sandwich down to pick up the glass for a drink and swore to myself because this was going to be a constant juggling act. Who in the hell put out food but no tables and chairs? Some sort of torture devised by Abimelech Mortimer, no doubt.

As I lifted the sandwich to my mouth again, a large glob of tuna and sweetcorn mayo slid from between the slices of bread, and gravity had its inevitable effect. I froze in horror, watching it disappear into the very large and very open handbag at my feet. Shit.

Jack and his father would kill me. I glanced swiftly around. If no one had seen, I could walk away and pretend I hadn't noticed it happen. But my hunted gaze locked with a pair of quizzical grey eyes. Archer bloody Talbot was watching me. He raised an eyebrow before turning away.

Fuck. He'd seen. He knew. If I walked away, and he told the owner of the bag…

I placed my sandwich safely and far too late on my plate. Cringing, I studied the nearby dragons, trying to work out which of them might possibly own that handbag. None of them looked as if they'd be happy to find they had tuna decorating their belongings.

Taking a deep breath, knowing it might be my last, I shuffled up to the woman closest to me and began to make subtle enquiries.