TWELVE

Kivrayn

After a night of poor sleep at my hotel, I shower and shave and try to ignore the ache in my back and wing muscles as I climb from the taxi at the front of the Burbage family estate. Not historically an aristocratic family, Jenny’s fortune was such that, twenty years ago at the height of her tech company’s dominance of the market, she purchased Grimwood from Lord Edison and renamed it.

I’m sure it had the peerage seething, but I found her audacity amusing.

I close the car door behind me, and my nostrils flare as I catch a hint of a familiar scent.

No.

It couldn’t be. There’s no way.

Ignoring my sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on me, I straighten my tie and head up the steps where the family butler sweeps the door open in anticipation of my arrival. “Good morning, sir. You’re just in time. Ms. Jenny is giving the briefing in the west parlor. If you’ll come this way?”

I follow the tall, thin butler through the stately entrance hall and down a corridor filled with priceless modern art. It’s not my area of expertise, but the bright, boxy colors of the Mondrian and what I assume is a Miro, stand out starkly against the Georgian decor of the house. Much like their owner, I imagine.

The scales all up my spine rise in irritation when I step into the parlor and realize my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. The teasing lure of her scent filling my nostrils is real, because Loren Carandang is sitting here, perched on one side of a loveseat looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Her short, shapely legs are folded one over the other, making the hem of her far too tiny skirt ride up to expose the decorative tops of her stay up stockings.

I let out an involuntary growl and the other agents in the room all look up at me. Loren’s face lights in a grin that tells me this is a calculated move.

I stalk past the butler, who has frozen at the door to the parlor, and loom over Loren. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carandang?”

Her smile does not falter. In fact, it might be my imagination, but it seems to get just a little brighter. “Well, Kivrayn, I don’t know if you heard, but Jenny Burbage is considering selling her entire collection.”

I scowl. “Sarcasm is the most juvenile form of humor. Why are you in London and not in Heartstone?”

She gives me a look as if I am the one being unreasonable here. “Um, because I intend to acquire the collection. Why are you here?”

I gape at her. I’m about to tell her she hasn’t got a hope in hell. Even if that diamond necklace wasn’t part of the collection, I would bid whatever it takes now just to stop her from getting it.

Just then, I notice the silence that has fallen around us .

I turn to see an attendant dressed in medical scrubs wheel in Jenny Burbage in a chair, crocheted blanket over her thin knees, her face deeply lined with wrinkles.

I have to school my own face into a bland expression to cover the grimace from seeing her this way. I know humans age quickly, but Jenny couldn’t be more than seventy. There’s no way she should be looking this haggard, unless...

The butler clears his throat. “Ms. Jenny can’t stay long. If everyone could take a seat nice and close to the fireplace, that will ensure she doesn’t have to strain herself too much.”

Of course the only seat left near the fireplace is the other side of Loren’s loveseat.

And the only person standing is me.

He’s talking to me.

With a smothered sigh, I resign myself to my fate and sit beside Loren, twisting so my face is turned away from her.

It’s only for a few moments. I’m sure in Jenny’s condition, she won’t want to speak for long. I can do this without tearing Loren’s throat out.

Or her clothes off.

My hands tighten into fists with the effort of keeping my mind from wandering. If I stand now, everyone in the room will get an eyeful of the enormous bulge I’m sporting between my legs.

“I’m not going to pussyfoot around here,” Jenny begins suddenly. Her voice sounds thin. Her words rasped as if through a tired throat. “I’m dying.”

An indrawn breath from in front of me makes me mentally roll my eyes. Any imbecile could see what’s right in front of them. Not these folks .

A subtle note to Loren’s scent has me flick my gaze to my right. She’s sitting motionless. It’s almost impossible to tell, but I get the feeling she’s more affected by what Jenny said than she’s letting on.

Jenny convulses with a chest-rattling cough. The nurse hands her a drink of water, and she takes a sip with a shaky hand. “Like I said, I’m dying. And I don’t want my ungrateful spawn to have my beautiful babies.”

I lift a brow. So that’s what this is about. Surely that’s a good sign. She’s motivated to sell. And do I feel bad, acquiring items from her collection that should have otherwise gone to them, just the way she did to me as a younger dragon? Not at all.

“But I’m not sure I want any of you bastards to have your mitts on them either,” Jenny continues.

The tip of my tail flicks in annoyance. What are her choices then? Has she just brought us here to waste everyone’s time? To sport with us?

“You’re almost as bad as they are, clawing and crawling your way over my things, fighting over them like crows over a corpse.”

What does she expect? If she’d done the sensible thing and accepted my offer, she wouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now. Too irritated to remain silent, I sit forward on the loveseat. “Well let’s end this now, then. I will beat any other offer anyone would like to put on the table. There. Thank you for playing, everyone, but I’m sure you can see I’m serious and I think it would be kindest if we made this process simple, don’t you?”

They all stare at me .

Then Jenny breaks the silence with a barking laugh. It turns into another protracted coughing fit. There are murmurs between several of the other agents. One young man with a stupid looking vest gets up and brushes at his trousers. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Burbage, I’m afraid Wheeler and Maine can’t compete with that. I’ll let myself out.”

Jenny pats at her mouth with a tissue and hands it back to her nurse. “Anyone else?”

There’s a pause.

All the other agents stand one by one and make their exits sheepishly.

All except one.

Beside me, Loren sits as rigidly still as ever, her mouth set in a firm line.

Jenny’s blue eyes dance with a spark that wasn’t there before. “Oh, is that how it is, eh? I knew I liked you, Ms. Carandang.”

My head twists so fast I can feel a muscle spasm in my back from my long, forty-nine-hour flight. “You know her?” I don’t know whether I’m speaking to Jenny or to Loren, but neither answers. They share a little smirk I’d like to wipe from their faces.

A puff of smoke drifts from my right nostril. “This is ridiculous. Stop playing games. What will it cost?”

I look back at Jenny.

“I have more money than I’ll ever be able to spend in the time I have left, you pompous ass.”

My eyes narrow, but it doesn’t matter. She can insult me all she likes as long as she realizes I’m serious. I will have that collection.

“Then what? Name your condition and I’ll meet it. You can be at every auction, set whatever reserve you like. I’ll purchase the entire thing myself and make it incredibly simple for you. I have ready cash. Liquid assets I can transfer to you before anyone else can even apply for the loan to do this. Let me make this easy for you.”

She snorts. “If I wanted easy, I’d let my children fight this out between themselves when I’m dead. No, Mr. Firestarter. I don’t want easy. I want to feel good about where my collection ends up when I’m gone. That’s the whole point.”

Ah. I smile. “Then please, let me tell you about my den. I’ll house the entire collection together. You won’t have to worry about it being broken up.”

She eyes me. “I trust you about as much as the snake you look like, Mr. Firestarter.”

Beside me, Loren smothers a laugh, and my tail flicks in annoyance.

“But I haven’t decided yet. So if you’re interested, you’ll just have to wait around and convince me.” She folds her gnarled hands into her lap.

I hiss. “And how long will that take?”

Jenny smirks at the two of us. “I’m tired of fighting and I’m tired of witnessing it. It takes as long as it takes. Until you two can reach a joint decision on who is taking the collection or one of you bows out.”

I very nearly shift into my four-legged form and launch a jet of fire around the room to burn everything in it.

I don’t of course.

I clench my jaw. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Loren says from beside me.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of looking around again. She’s only doing this to antagonize me, which is stupid. I’ve got far more money to play with here, and her boss will get tired of funding this glorified holiday soon. I can outbid and outlast her. It’s only a matter of time.