Page 14 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss

I should have questioned why she is here so early. I should have told her that her presence is unnecessary before official work hours. I should have said any of the random niceties that seem to come naturally to Urul and Royce.

Instead, I say, “Are we ready for the meeting?”

My answer is gruff even to my own ears, let alone to the pleasant greeting she bestowed upon me. Not even aGood Morningor aThank you.I mentally chastise myself at my answer.

I let go of her too soft hands.

I have to.

It’s way too easy for me to envision how nicely her hair would look spilled across silk sheets. Or coiled in my fist.

Work. This is work.You’re at work,I chastise myself.Be a godsdamned professional and not…whatever insane thought just crossed my mind.

“Absolutely ready. I just like to visualize things. If you’ll excuse me,” she says, addressing a little ringtone that sounded from the other side of the room.

If my demeanor put her off, she doesn’t show it. She glances at her phone, typing into it as she resumes her pacing. Her focus shifts back to her previous task before I interrupted her with my presence.

Everything is precisely arranged. The details are immaculate. The seating assignments account for executive hierarchies. The presentation equipment is primed for seamless use. And at the head of the table, right where I will sit, a hot cup of espresso and a small plate of shortbread cookies await me.

The exact ones I prefer.

My gaze flicks to her. “You did all this?”Dammit, you were supposed to ask if she needed any help with anything not accuse her of excelling at her job.

She smooths an invisible wrinkle from her blazer and nods. “Of course.”

I step toward my seat at the head table, reaching for the espresso, the heat seeping into my fingers.

Sunny watches me, waiting.

I take a slow sip of my espresso, watching her over the rim of my cup. “You incorporated my last-minute updates.” Not a question. An assumption. One she proves right. Again.

She nods. “Yes. They’re in the prospectus.”

I lift a brow. “I updated those in the middle of the night.”

Sunny lifts one right back. “I was up in the middle of the night to see the notifications come through.” She shrugs as she straightens each notepad and accompanying pen. “Besides, I tend to double and triple check for any last minute updates or changes, and throw in a contingency plan or two. Preparation is the key to success, after all.”

Damn. An unfamiliar feeling slides in my gut as I hear that. Gods, do I feel guilty? Is that what this is? Guilt knowing that she likely had completely finished her assignments—or that she did until her thoughtless boss foisted some last moment changes for no other reason other than it suited me.

I scan the final documents, already knowing they will be perfect, which she confirmed yet again. She has anticipated everychange, every adjustment—even ones I hadn’t fully formulated when I made them.

There is no hesitation in her execution. No questions about why I work at odd hours or why I require last-minute alterations.

She simply adapts.

That should be satisfying.

Instead, it’s arousing.

I exhale slowly, schooling my expression.

Not here. Not now.

Not at all.

Sunny steps back, hands clasped lightly. “The video connection is set up. The executives and the field team will be patched in an hour before the full financial review.”

Efficient. Precise. Sharp.

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