Chapter 7

Athumbs-up. That's all Elaine sent me after sharing that Kyan and his brothers are alien dragon shifters. Seriously, a thumbs-up? I wasn't expecting praise or a hug––a hug from Elaine would likely be awkward and too tight––but that was a tasty morsel of intel I gave her, and her response is lackluster at best.

I keep opening the text chain between us as I settle in at my desk on Monday morning and fire up my laptop. Still just the emoji. Though I suppose that's better than her usual all-caps replies threatening to evict me or call Xavier.

My eyes dart to the hallway past the kitchen, waiting for Kyan to arrive. We haven't spoken since Friday night, just before he passed out on my couch. When I woke up on Saturday morning, he was gone, which I understood. No matter how much fun you have with someone, having them in your space or you in theirs the next morning is always awkward. I don't need my new boss to see my bed head and dimpled ass hanging out of my booty shorts.

He was a much better hang than I expected though. Around the office, he's gruff and intimidating. The receptionists refer to him as Crankenstein on the staff group chat. But get the man high on weed cupcakes, and he's a blast. He was so easy to talk to, and seeing him with such a relaxed smile the whole night gave me a tummy full of butterflies. It was impossible to look away from that strong jaw, full lips, and his brilliantly white teeth. He might even be the most beautiful man on Earth when he smiles, and it gives me a massive ego boost knowing not everyone gets to see him like that.

If our circumstances were different, and I didn't need to dig up his secrets and share them with Elaine, Kyan and I would probably become friends. Good friends, even.

My computer dings as the group chat window lights up. "Crankenstein has entered the building."

The elevator doors open a minute later, and out he comes, the crease between his brows deepening as he surveys the floor, his stride long and emanating confidence. I watch as those he passes sit up straighter, their fingers suddenly flying across their keyboards as if immersed in writing the most important email of their lives. As soon as he rounds the corner, I find myself smoothing out my hair and unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

He nods at me as he reaches my desk. "Naomi."

I hold out the treat I made him on a paper towel. "Banana nut muffin, boss?"

Kyan stops and looks down at the muffin, turns to scan the office, then looks back at the muffin. "No, thank you. I already ate."

I feel my shoulders sag at the rejection as his office door closes behind him. What the fuck was that? Why did he just speak to me like we didn't spend hours watching Veep and feeding Felix peanuts on my couch?

Does he feel weird now, like we took things too far? I suppose it did cross the typical boundary between assistant and boss, but it's not like we made out or anything. We just got high together.

Maybe he regrets it. Or maybe me taking off his shoes and covering him with a blanket was too intimate. But it's not like I could leave him on my couch, passed out with his fancy shoes all laced up. I wanted him to be comfortable. Well, as comfortable as a seven-foot-tall alien dragon shifter could be on a love seat from IKEA.

If that's how he feels, then I won't offer him any more drug-filled baked goods. In fact, I won't offer him regular baked goods either, if he's not going to appreciate them. I'm not sure what I expected him to do when he walked in this morning, but it wasn't this.

It's not like it matters anyway. I'm not his friend; I'm his employee. An employee who needs to find a way into that basement. I'll just focus on that.

My inbox starts filling up with forwarded emails from Kyan, saying things like, "Follow up on this," and, "Please confirm this call." All business.

It isn't until after lunch that he comes out of his office.

"Naomi," he says, his throaty voice sending a shiver down my spine.

He's going to apologize for being cold this morning,I tell myself.

"Did you see that email from the CFO of Vernon Press?"

My dead heart sinks. "Uh, no. Let me check." I scroll through my inbox, frantically searching for it.

Kyan sighs. "He's saying the revised contract we sent over still has the same issues as the last version. Can you make sure he gets the correct one? I want that deal to go through by the end of the day."

"Of course," I mutter, trying to ignore the way his nearness is flustering me. "I'll send it over right now."

"Thanks."

He leaves for lunch after that, and for the rest of the day, our only conversations take place over email.

Tuesday is pretty much the same, apart from offering him a muffin when he arrives. I'm not doing that again. By late afternoon on Wednesday, I've (mostly) let go of my frustration with his mood swings and have decided to keep our interactions brief and professional going forward. Any doubt I had about sharing his secret with Elaine begins to fade.

On Thursday night, I visit Quincy during his shift at DD, hoping to get some insight on how to proceed with my mission. "He has the keys to that door. I'm not sure anyone else does, but when I tried peeking inside, he was quick to close it and lock it up tight. How the fuck am I supposed to find a way in?"

Someone barks an order through the drive-through intercom, and he rushes to fill it before returning to the back room.

"Need a refill?" he asks when he sees my empty cup.

"Nah, I'm good for the night."

"Have you tried installing cameras around the exits?"

It didn't occur to me, mostly because it seems like a terrible idea. "Won't he notice new cameras around the outside of the building?"

"Not if you get the right cameras," Quincy says, taking his phone out of his pocket and pulling up a shady-looking website. "These are the size of a dime. They're weatherproof, with an adhesive backing, so you can stick them anywhere."

"Jesus, they're so small."

"Crazy, right?"

"Have you used them before? Do they actually work?"

He opens an app on his phone. "Yeah, I have them here and at home." Swiping through the different screens, I can see the entire drive-through lane that circles the building, and a view of the street. The footage from around the outside of his house is slightly different, but most of those cameras seem to be installed on tree stumps and high ledges, making them even more discreet.

"Wow, the footage is so clear. Where did you find these?"

"My man Jay. We go way back. He used to own a pawn shop in Boston, but now he and his wife own a weed bakery in Colorado. This dude can find anything you want."

Envy slices through my middle when I envision this man, Jay, who I've never met, and his loving wife. They probably have a cute house with a view of a mountain in the distance, a child or two running barefoot down the hall, while the two of them discuss menu ideas for their bakery over a cup of coffee.

I miss being able to eat human food. The best part about baking is tasting the finished product, and I can't do that anymore. If my mom were still in my life, she'd be thrilled I can no longer eat my favorite things, though she'd still wear that look of disappointment upon seeing that I haven't gotten any smaller.

In my head, I can still hear her voice when I would reach for dessert. She'd make a tsk noise and say, "xiao pang pang" which is Mandarin for little fatty. Yet when I didn't finish eating what was on my plate, she'd tell me to eat more. My grandparents on her side were the same way. It was exhausting to grow up in this body around them. But regardless of how often Mom fat-shamed me, she did love my cakes.

I'm a fantastic baker. It's why I still make muffins and cupcakes that I don't even get to enjoy. Seeing other people enjoy my treats is still nice. It's just not the same.

"Yoohoo, Naomi," Quincy says, snapping his fingers in my face.

Was I spacing out for that long? I didn't even hear him talking. "What?"

He laughs as rolls his eyes. "Do you want me to order these cameras or not?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Definitely. How soon can they get here?"

"Jay never charges me for shipping, and it looks like," he pauses as he reaches the checkout screen, "they'll be delivered by Saturday. That work?"

"Hell yeah." That's perfect. The building will be empty, and I can set them up once it gets dark. "Will you help me install them?"

"Sure, as long as we get it done before seven," he says. "I have a shift that night."

That'll be easy. The sun goes down around five this time of year, so that'll give us plenty of time. "I promise I won't keep you too late." I start to wonder when Quincy last took a day off. "You work too hard," I say, elbowing him in the ribs.

He lifts the brim of his orange visor and runs a hand through his tight black curls. "Money, money, money, sis. That's what it's all about. I'm not taking a day off until I have the funds to open my lab."

I'm not sure when he started saving to open his own laboratory, but he's got a poster on the wall of a savings thermometer that's a quarter filled in with red marker, and the number at the top is three hundred thousand. Once he reaches his goal, he'll buy a place with enough room and the proper equipment to develop synthetic blood. I have no doubt he'll achieve that, once he has the funds to do so, and the world will be forever changed.

"Hey, I just remembered I get my first paycheck next Friday. Put me down for five hundred a month, okay?"

His eyes widen in disbelief. "You fucking with me?"

I pull my coat on and grab my blood bottle off the table. "Not even a little. Count me in as your first investor, you mad scientist."

Quincy lifts his blood bottle toward me. "Cheers to you, then. I'll make sure to name a whole-ass wing after you."

"Ooh, I like that." I raise mine and clink it against his. "Gan bei."

"Gan bei."

I run home through the woods brimming with excitement, knowing the cameras will get here soon and the footage will hopefully provide some guidance on how to get into Kyan's secret basement. As soon as I settle into bed, I send Elaine a text letting her know about the next phase of my plan.

Elaine: ??

Ugh. This bitch.

Felix flies from the couch to the windowsill next to my bed, and I open it to let him out. "Night, buddy. See you tomorrow."

He caws back before he launches into the night sky.