Page 28 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss

I walk around my desk, pointing to one of the chairs so she can sit down. Lucky for her, she does. “You’re sick,” I repeat.

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, it’s just allergies. This happens every spring. I can handle it.”

“We have the best filtration system in the universe purifying the air inside of this building.” I glare at her, daring her to counter my words. “You. Are. Sick.”

She sputters. “I am not sick. I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping.”

“Because you’re sick,” I say. “And you don’t normally at a “d” to the end of the word ‘fine.’”

“I do not?—”

I growl, exhaling a flume of smoke from the corners of my mouth. “You’re not listening.”

“I am listening.” She tilts her head, eyes sharp. “And I’m telling you, Ser Rokoth, that I am fine.”

The mockingly formal way she says my name almost makes me smirk.

Almost. Instead, I fold my arms.

I see that I yet again underestimated my assistant because usually anyone else would have wilted before me. The angrier I am, the more she takes it as a challenge. I should not find that attractive.

“The trip is Friday to Sunday,” I say. “You should take today off anyway. You should have already anticipated this.”

Her brows draw together. “Excuse me?”

“A competent assistant would have scheduled Thursday off,” I say smoothly, “since you’ll be working the full weekend.”

Her eyes flash. Her cheeks flush a bright pink that has nothing to do with a potential fever.

If looks could kill, I’d be reduced to ashes.

Ruffled your feathers, didn’t I? Not so unflappable about every little thing.

It’s fascinating to see her pull herself together bit by bit. She takes a few deep breaths, straightens her shoulders, and plants a smile on her face. “You know what, that’s fine. I forgot my tablet at my apartment anyway.”

Good.

I nod once, satisfied.

Then I lean in slightly, lowering my voice.

“If I see your status as active on the VorTech comms channels,” I say evenly, “I’ll put you on a performance improvement plan.”

Her mouth drops open. “You wouldn’t.”

I tilt my head. “Try me.”

She huffs, glaring at me. “Fine. I’m leaving now anyway.”

She thinks that’s the end of it.

It’s not.

“I still need to approve your travel status Friday morning,” I add.

Now she looks genuinely upset.

Her lips part, her shoulders tensing.

---