Page 7 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss

Reports submitted. Accounts reconciled. Meetings prepped.

She’s been here for one full day, and there hasn’t been a single oversight.

Curious, I open her employee file through the VorTech portal.

Sunny Mahal Tayapad Adlawan.

Human. Temporary Work Visa—Vormugh Enterprises Sponsorship.

Her personnel photo loads—a formal corporate headshot, nothing remarkable. But the details stand out.

Fast-tracked promotions at her previous positions. High competency in organization and workflow automation. A reputation for problem-solving.

Still, none of it explains how she’s already adjusted to my workflow without needing correction.

By the time I’m done skimming through the information, it is nearly time for the “touchbase” to start.

I tap the screen to enter the virtual conference room, expecting to wait for the next ten minutes for her to arrive.

The meeting initiates, the interface connecting automatically.

The screen loads—but before I could change my status to waiting, I notice she is already there.

Waiting.

The screen displays a woman with dark, sleek hair pulled into an elegant low ponytail, cat-like eyes sharp with focus, and a confident, composed posture.

She doesn’t look nervous.

Surprise ripples through me.

Most people fumble through connection delays or need me to acknowledge their presence first.

She, on the other hand, sits with an unshaken calm, dressed in a professional slate-blue blazer that complements her golden-tan complexion. Her lips are painted a subtle berry shade, something I wouldn’t normally notice, but against her smooth skin, it’s striking.

And I don’t like that I notice.

She blinks at the blank screen. “Ser Rokoth?”

I lean back in my chair. “I’m here.”

If she’s unsettled that I’m not visible, she doesn’t show it.

“Great,” she says, immediately pulling up a detailed spreadsheet on her end of the screen. “I’ll keep this quick. I know your time is valuable.”

That earns a sliver of my attention.

She doesn’t fill the silence with unnecessary small talk.

She gets straight to business.

I watch, intrigued despite myself, as she runs through the priorities of the week, how it’s going so far, and what’s needed to course correct and what can stay the course. Every detail is accounted for, from financial reviews to vendor renewals, with three backup contingencies prepared in case plans change.

Her voice is clear, professional—but not robotic.

Polished, efficient, even when she pointed out the discrepancies between the Operations Calendar and my work schedule and appointments. She would have been rightfully entitled to a hint of exasperation regarding all she needed to correct, yet she glided over the inconsistencies as if they were smooth glass.

However, I make a mental note to chastise Royce about slapping together the Operations Calendar without any cross-departmental input.

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