THREE

Loren

I’m apprehensive as I zip my overnight bag and sling it over my shoulder. I still hold my head high while I step out onto the street to meet my rideshare driver. We’re due at Kivrayn’s estate by 8:00 p.m., so I left work early, then frittered away a whole hour packing and unpacking my bag, delaying until the last possible moment, so it’s likely I’ll be a little late.

I just need to focus on work. That’s how I’ll get through the night. Let’s face it, Kivrayn will probably be far too busy to spend time hovering over me tonight. I’ll just keep my head down and avoid getting on his nerves.

Yeah, right.

We run into traffic getting out of Heartstone, and so by the time we pull up at the big wrought iron gates of Oak Haven Estate, it’s already 8:08 p.m. I pull out my phone to get the code for the gate and find a message from Simon.

Simon: everything OK? Better hurry up if you can. Kiv is on the warpath

Great.

I relay the numbers to the driver, who punches them into the machine. The gate slides open slowly.

The drive to the manor house is breathtaking. I’m impressed despite myself. The estate is on a slope, so we descend toward the main house, which sprawls across several wings through manicured gardens.

Heat creeps up my neck and my heart beats faster as I ready myself for a confrontation. But when Kivrayn meets me at the front door, he only watches me get out of the car with his hands planted on his hips. His long reptilian tail flicks behind him.

“Sorry,” I say brusquely. “Traffic.”

“Fine.” He turns and opens the door. “I’ll show you to the guest wing.”

We walk in single file along a long corridor, and I sneak looks into the rooms we pass. There’s a gym where numerous machines wait in immaculate condition, neatly arranged in orderly rows. We circle a terrace courtyard into a separate wing of the building and emerge into a sunken lounge where deep-seated dark sofas look like they are inviting me into their butter-soft leather. Kivrayn turns. “This is the guest wing. Simon and the rest of the team know their way around this part of the estate, so if you need anything, please make them your first port of call. Breakfast will be served to your room, and we’ll meet here at 10:00 a.m. sharp for the final briefing ahead of the event tomorrow. Your room is the first on the left.”

I almost expect him to tell me there’s a curfew or ask about my outfit choices for the event, but I look in the direction he points to see if I can spot my bedroom, and when I turn back, he’s already walking away down the corridor.

Huh.

I guess he wasn’t feeling chatty tonight .

I should be pleased, but a feeling of unease lingers with me as I set my bag down and sit experimentally on the large king-sized bed, giving a little bounce to test the mattress, which is softer than I’d like. I didn’t see any of the others, so I decide to message Simon and see where they are.

Loren: hey, just got here. I thought you said Kivrayn was in a bad mood

Simon: wasn’t he? If so, be grateful. He’s been biting everyone’s heads off all evening. We’re just out on the terrace. Come have a drink

When I poke my head back into the living area, I spot the large sliding doors leading out to the terrace. Simon gives me a cheery wave as I shut the door behind me and shiver a little in the cold air.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Loren.” Simon hands me a drink. “Glad you could make it. Did the boss give you the tour?”

I shake my head, taking a sip of beer. Not my first choice, but I could use a drink tonight. I should be more disturbed about the number of nights I’ve thought that since starting this job. “Nope. He just showed me to my room.”

“This place is amazing.” Sylvie, a shy goblin who overseas shipment and storage of artifacts for the auction house, flashes me a sharp-toothed smile. “You should ask to see his personal collection.”

This piques my interest. “Why? What does he collect?” Finding a seat on a sun lounger, I take another sip of my drink.

“Oh, all sorts. The very best things. Sometimes, when there’s a very special object that comes into the warehouse, it disappears from the listings. That’s when you know it’s gone into his personal collection.”

“The hoard,” injects Simon.

I snort laugh, then realize everyone is looking at me. “Um, dragon. Hoard.”

“Yeah.” Sylvie is serious. “No laughing matter. A dragon is very serious about their hoard.”

I clear my throat. “Right. Right. I knew that. Just funny, isn’t it?”

The little goblin woman shakes her head. “No. Seriously. If you do get to see it, promise me you’ll take it seriously. And whatever you do, don’t touch anything!”

I want to ask her more, but Ryan interrupts with a question about some sports game I don’t care about and the conversation is derailed.

I don’t stay outside long.

I should make more effort to get to know everyone, but it’s cold outside and the truth is, I can’t stop wondering about Kivrayn and his hoard. I’m insanely curious to know what he collects and how much truth there is to the myths about dragons sleeping on their hoard. I can’t shake the image of him curled up on top of a pile of gold, even though I know that’s ridiculous.

In my mind’s eye, he looks like he looks at work. A tall, muscular guy with bat-like wings and a tail, dressed in a suit. But I know in reality he has another form. Dragons shift. They can turn themselves into the giant reptiles of myth and legend. I wonder what Kivrayn looks like in his dragon form.

Eventually, I yawn and stand. “I’m beat. I’m going to head to bed. Good luck tomorrow, everyone. ”

Simon chuckles. “I think if anyone needs luck, it’s you, new girl. Just, whatever you do, don’t touch the boss’s hoard.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I get it. Don’t touch anything, right. You know that makes him sound like some kind of fairytale villain, don’t you?”

Simon shrugs. “Can’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

I give him another eye roll as I turn and head toward the sliding doors. At least it’s warm inside. It’s not even winter and the air outside is already chilly in the evenings. I stand by the fire for a moment, warming the backs of my legs. Imagine having a whole-ass guest wing on your house.

Kivrayn Firestarter might be a massive dick, but he is living my dream life, that’s for sure. A private estate. Owning his own business. A collection of probably priceless beautiful artifacts...

I sigh.

Doesn’t matter how far I think I’ve come from my dirt-poor roots, there’s always someone living larger than I am. I mean, I’d be doing the same if I could.

Telling myself I’ll make it one day, I head to the guest bedroom and shut the door.

God, this guest room even has its own ensuite bathroom. And a view of the sweeping grounds down the hill to Kivrayn’s fucking private lake.

OK, it’s not a lake. More like a pond, but still. I’m mad about it. I’m mad that he probably has no idea just how good he has it. I wonder how many people he had to step on to get where he is.

I’m still mad about it when I start to undress for the shower. I fling my dark pants onto the bed with a huff.

I’m not going to let him get the better of me. I’m not.