Page 11 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss

I plop down at a table in the staff lounge, greeted by a mixed bag of encouraging smiles and eager stares.

Neve, our resident pixie HR rep, leans forward with a gleam in her eyes. A glittery light show arcs from her wings. “Don’t keep us in suspense, newbie. How was it?”

I take a dramatic breath. “I lived.”

Harla arches a brow. “And?”

I lean in conspiratorially. “You guys…he said something.”

The entire table falls silent.

One of the goblins from accounting gasps. “He spoke?”

I nod gravely. “He did.”

“With actual words?” Neve demands, wings fluttering so fast they blur. “Say it exactly how he said it.”

I clear my throat, deepening my voice to what I imagine is my best ‘intimidating dragonkin businessman’ impression, and say, “I like the updated calendar.”

The table erupts.

“THAT’S HUGE.”

“Are you kidding? That’s basically a promotion!”

“Do you realize how rare that is?”

Harla smirks. “I once heard him say ‘acceptable’ to an intern, and they passed out from shock.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re joking.”

Harla takes a long sip of tea. “Am I?”

The entire groupoohsin collective reverence, as if I have unlocked a hidden achievement in the CFO’s Hall of Favor.

Well. That’s unexpected, but not nearly as surprising as I feel right now. Despite all the hoops and the constant masking, this is no harder than trying to please wealthy ladies with too much money, boredom, and entitlement in my last luxury sales gig.

Heck, I honestly think this job is way easier—with three times the pay, not to mention the benefits. I’m not going to give Ser Rokoth—or anyone else—any reason to get rid of me.

After lunch, I decide to do a little extra research.

I pull up archived images from past company events, scanning through formal gala pictures, boardroom presentations, and press releases featuring the Big Three.

Urul Vormugh, the CEO—Tall, broad, tusked, and radiating pure orcish charisma.

Royce Arden, the COO—Sharply-dressed, oozing wulver charm with that great big grin, and dangerously good at his job.

And then?—

Khanner Rokoth.

My scrolling slowed.

Even in still images, he has a commanding presence—his towering frame wrapped in perfectly tailored suits, his charcoal-gray scales glisten like carved jewels, his golden eyes sharp, calculating.

He looks like he has been chiseled from unyielding marble, all angular features and severe lines, a cousin to gargoyles but unmistakably dragonkin.

Holy hell, he’s handsome.

---