Page 18 of Claimed by Her Dragons

Chapter Eight

Gina probably put more time into getting ready than was strictly necessary. Not that the guys would know this, but a model could get battle-ready in a very short time. It was one of the skills you mastered early on if you wanted to succeed in the business. Especially at the beginning, when doing shoots for car dealerships and diaper services. By the time she’d started doing national campaigns, magazine spreads, and, finally, movies, other people were there to make her up and do her hair, dress her even. Helpful when quick changes were required.

But, today, nerves rode her hard. She wanted to be pretty for the guys and also to look her best for their classmates. So she tried her hair up and down, a couple of times, finally deciding to let the soft curls frame her face and waterfall down her back. She lined her eyes, applied mascara and a rosy matte lip stain then slipped on an off-the-shoulder, blue-and-white striped dress. After a pirouette in front of the mirror, she added a wide belt with a dragonesque buckle. She couldn’t hide her hips and bust, and didn’t really want to, but the belt enhanced her waist, a look she’d found worked for her.

With glee, she donned heeled sandals. The ankle strap showed off another one of her assets. Being a big girl did not imply she was not fit. The miles she swam every week toned her legs, and her love for horseback riding toned her gluteus maximus. The straight skirt showed that off. Catching up her clutch purse, she headed for the elevator. She’d done all the lily gilding she could.

Once again, she squeezed her eyes closed on the terrifying glass lift. Who thought these were a good idea, anyway? With the hotel poised on its hilltop, the road falling away toward the wharfs below, it was a long way down, and the view other guests apparently prized scared her almost as much as the thought they might fly through the roof.

Face it. She was a complete and utter elevator wimp. Everyone had something, right? A silly fear or phobia. A superstition. Like her refusal to date shifters until now. One night, and she’d changed her opinion. Not that she wanted to date all of them, but certainly she’d found a pair well worth her time. Would they want to see her after this weekend? One of them had made a comment about being there for her forever, taking care of her, but that was just pillow talk.

In the lobby, she exited the car and looked left and right. The hotel wasn’t so big she should have trouble finding the brunch, although the men hadn’t mentioned where it was being held. Spotting a lit sign beside the concierge desk, she approached, hoping it would give information about what was going on in the building today and where.

“Miss Marianni, how charming to see you this morning. I trust you rested well?” The concierge approached her, wearing another of the formal suits, his graying hair slicked back. “Do you require assistance?”

Back in the foyer, she was reminded how cold it felt. What made them decorate it this way? She supposed it was elegant, but she much preferred the comfort of the suite. “I was looking for the brunch held by the class reunion?”

“Oh yes.” He bowed. “I would be delighted to escort you to the venue. If you’ll follow me?” He rested a hand on her arm, but, just as much as her dragons warmed her, his touch chilled. She shrugged away.

“Oh, that’s not necessary at all. Just point me. I’d hate to take you from your post.”

He bowed again. “As you wish. The party you seek is down this hallway then out the glass doors.” He pointed. “Go through the courtyard and in through the archway opposite. The third door on the left. Ballroom B.” Returning to his desk, where an older couple waited, he held his hands poised over a keyboard below a tablet. “And I’ll wish you good morning, Miss Marianni.”

“I think we both know that’s not my name. And everyone at the reunion figured it out pretty quickly.”

“Nonetheless, I address all guests by their registered name. Hotel policy.”

She watched him turn his attention to the couple as she headed off. What a funny man. And she had no idea what kind of shifter he might be, but, from his behavior, an ancient one.

Halfway down the hall, a man emerged from a doorway. “Are you looking for the class reunion?”

She paused, confused. “Why, yes. But the concierge told me it was in Ballroom B.”

He waved her through the door he’d exited. “Come this way. It’s a shortcut.”

She hesitated. “But it’s right down…”

“Exactly.” He took her arm. What was with all the touchy-feely crap? “Come along before you miss all the waffles. The toppings are going fast.”

He wore a badge.Hi,it read.I’m Abasi.No wonder he was directing traffic. Especially after losing all his guests the night before.

“I’m glad to meet you, Abasi.” She allowed him to lead her down a short hallway and into a room. The lights were off and she dug in her heels. “I…I wanted to apologize for last night.”

He tightened his grip on her arm. “Did you?”

“Y-yes. I know everyone ended up in our suite, and your party might have been lightly attended.”

He stood facing her, tall and gangly, eyeing her in a disconcerting way in the shadowy doorway. “Try unattended. After the first half hour, the room emptied out.”

“Oh, that’s awful.”

“Isn’t it? I put a lot of work into that party. And expense.” He nudged her inside.

“Didn’t the fees that everyone paid cover it?” She glanced left and right, looking for a way out. But in the shadowy room, all she saw were the dim outlines of tables and chairs.

“You’d think. But the cheap bastards decided on an amount so low, I would have had to serve cheese and crackers. How would that have looked?”

She tugged, trying to free herself. “Bad?”

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