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Elle

“ I s he still looking at me?” I hissed at Jen. I wasn’t hiding in the back, but I sure wanted to. Once again, Az’zael hadn’t taken his catlike eyes off me since he entered the restaurant.

“Yep.”

“That must mean I’m doing okay, right?” I’d figured he’d come back, and I spent a solid hour last night online, watching him introduce himself in various interviews, replaying the part where he said his name over and over again so I could pronounce it right.

I tried to make everything go as smoothly as possible for him, no matter how it made my stomach knot and flutter and squirm. He was hot, no denying it, and he’d been polite, but he was incredibly intense, even in interviews. Not to mention, having someone with so much power focused on me made me want to crawl into a hole and hide.

Jen shot me a smile. “Elle, I think you could spill his food on his gaudy-ass suit and he wouldn’t care.”

My stomach clenched. “Don’t say that. You’ll jinx me.” His suit really was gaudy, though. A perfectly tailored navy suit, with intricate gold embroidery that highlighted his broad shoulders. It was probably worth several times my bank balance .

I glanced back at the kitchen. “Got to go.” His food was ready. I couldn’t tell if our cook wanted to strangle me or thank me for giving Az’zael a sneak peek of one of his new creations, but I felt like I had to do something extra.

I set his plate down in front of him and licked my lips. “How, um, are things going at City Hall?” If Az became a regular, I should know a little bit more about him, right?

Right, that’s totally the only reason you’re asking, not because you’re dying of curiosity.

Az’zael huffed. “Terrible. I’m beginning to think the whole concept of cities was a bad idea. Put too many people too close together, and somehow your problems multiply.”

I blinked. That was a much more candid answer than I’d expected. “Um, well, some problems multiply, but others become easier. Economies of scale, and all that.”

A whiff of smoke curled out of Az’zael’s nose. I stared at it, halfway between fascinated and horrified.

“Yes, scaling up the amount of talking everyone does, and still no one has a solution.”

“You sound like my mom. Isn’t the whole point of you and Niemrin that you can make a unilateral decision?” A tinge of bitterness entered my voice. What would Kilinis look like when they were done with it?

He jerked back. “Absolutely not. That defeats the whole purpose. Cities led by tyrants are miserable, not thriving.”

I forced myself to swallow the pat assurance on my tongue. That was exactly the kind of behavior that always got me into trouble with men. “I don’t think you’re a tyrant, but a lot of the new programs I’ve heard about seem…I don’t know.” I glanced around, like a diplomatic way to phrase this would jump out of the kitschy signs that decorated th e pale gray walls. “Like they’re only for folks who already have a decent income. Or like they’ll benefit the people moving in rather than those of us who already live here.”

Az’s thin lips turned down, his eyes narrowing. “I see.”

I gulped. Fuck. I should have kept my mouth shut.

“Everyone moving here…they all expect me to do something great, and I don’t want to disappoint them. But they bring so many more problems with them, and they’re so loud . If I were a tyrant, I’d close the gates until I got a handle on everything, current residents included.” His scales darkened to a deep crimson. “Not that I’m planning to. I mean, uh—”

“You mean you’re trying to concentrate on the problems in front of you, but you feel like more keep popping up.” I thought it was stressful trying to manage all the little issues in my own life. Having to be responsible for everyone else’s sounded like a nightmare.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Before I said something stupid, like, I totally get what you mean, please let me soothe your troubles with my vagina , I smiled and forced myself to leave with some lame line about needing to check on the one other table in the restaurant.

Connecting with one of the two dragons in charge of this city on a, well, not exactly human level, but humanlike, was not smart. Customer Service Elle, that’s who I needed to be.

Luckily, Az’zael seemed satisfied with the food when I checked on him throughout his meal. He tried to draw me back into conversation, but I dodged artlessly, not able to handle it.

As I hustled around Norma’s Kitchen, Jen kept glancing between Az’zael and me and making little kissy faces. I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn’t deny that he seemed interested .

When I thought I’d scream from the tension, I brought his check. Sure, he’d only finished eating two minutes ago, but if he leaned forward and asked me another question about my day or my favorite gemstone, I might explode. I didn’t know which way to look or how to feel. My nerves were shot, and my heart rate picked up every time I looked at him—I needed him gone .

He handed over his card. I ran it, and when I brought it back, his wallet was already on the table.

“Take whatever you think you deserve,” he said with the most unsettling grin I’d ever seen in my entire life. All sharp teeth and gleaming eyes.

I gaped at him. “You’re serious? Again?” I should have expected this, but, nope, I was too busy worrying about all the little details like his drink and food and how to say his name correctly.

He tilted his head. His catlike pupils dilated so much they were almost round. “Of course.”

“Did you put even more money in it?” The question was half accusation, half shock, and zero thought.

He nodded, his grin growing disconcertingly wider.

Sweat prickled the back of my neck, and I glanced around the restaurant before whispering, “What’s your deal?”

With the flattened face and reptilian features, it was hard to tell, but he seemed displeased, his lips curling in. “I don’t want to discuss that here.”

My whole body went stiff. What was there to discuss ? It was just a tip. An excessively large tip.

I glanced down at the wallet, which was fatter than it was two days ago. I shouldn’t take anything. It probably came with hidden strings.

But the last time I’d done this, I’d been able to breathe easier. I only needed a hundred more for rent this month, and if it was sitting in Az’zael’s wallet… I glanced at him, taking in the way his golden eyes fixed on my hands, the way his muscles tensed under his suit. He wanted me to take it, and the knowledge settled in my stomach, then lower.

He wouldn’t offer anything he couldn’t give, right? And he hadn’t asked for anything in exchange.

Yet.

I reached for it.

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. The sound hit my chest and heated my blood.

When I’d grabbed the last bill and was just about to remove my hand from his wallet, one massive, scaled paw covered mine, trapping it on the table. “There’s more for you if you come to my home tonight, Elle.”

I gawked at him, too stunned to move. When I finally regained some control of myself, I snapped, “Get real.” I knew he was hiding something. So stupid of me to believe his vulnerability from earlier.

The scales on his face and hands darkened from bright red to deep scarlet. “Not my home, then,” he rushed out. “Coffee. Tomorrow. A date ?” He said the last word cautiously, like he wasn’t sure if it was the right one.

“What, just coffee?” No way in hell he expected just coffee .

“Coffee and a conversation.” His eyes gleamed.

“I show up for a coffee date and you’ll hand me your wallet again?” Bull-fucking-shit, he would. Men didn’t go around handing women hundreds of dollars for just coffee , even dragon men. I shouldn’t have touched the money in the first place.

I dropped the bills and tried to wiggle my hand away.

He immediately let go. A very stupid, shamelessly horny part of me registered it as a loss of heat, comfort, and protection .

“Yes. More than what’s in front of you.” His breath hitched on the last word.

I glanced from his face to the wallet, then back to his face. His eyes were wide, his breaths shallow, and he looked…anxious? Like he had a real stake in my answer.

I chewed my lip, recalling my late-night foray into Arranged before I’d uninstalled the app in despair. I’d flirted with the idea of sex work, but he didn’t know that. Although, aside from propositioning me at work, he’d been pretty polite—all “pleases” and “thank-yous.”

After the disaster of my last relationship, maybe something a little less emotional and a little more secure would be a pleasant change of pace. No messy feelings convincing me to stay with someone who’d treat me like shit over and over. Just a straightforward agreement between me and a hot dragon.

I could go to “coffee,” hear him out, then leave if I didn’t like what he had to say. He wouldn’t leap across the table and attack me in public, after all.

“Fine. Coffee. Tomorrow.” I snatched the cash off the table and shoved every dollar into my apron with sweaty hands. Go big or go home, right?

Air puffed across my face, and my attention jerked to his wings, which he instantly pinned back to his body. “Coffee. Tomorrow.” He grinned, every single tooth on display.

What had I gotten myself into?

I worked the rest of my shift in a daze, swinging between I can’t actually show up to coffee and What’s the harm? , all the while fending off questions about Az’zael from nosy coworkers.

What’s he like? Excessively polite. Did he try to talk to you? Yeah, a bit. Aren’t you afraid he’ll eat you? At that one, I’d felt myself blush a fiery red as I stuttered out, “No.”

When I couldn’t take it anymore, I dragged Jen outside for a break and told her everything.

“He was kind of nice. Seemed to go out of his way to not scare me. Would fucking him be so bad?” After I told her about his proposition, Jen was, like me, convinced he was interested in a pay-for-play arrangement of some kind.

“No, fucking him wouldn’t be so bad. He’s kind of hot.” Muscular. Well-dressed. I’d looked up his age, and he was thirty-two, only a year older than me, so it wasn’t like he was creeping on a much younger woman. “I’ll meet him for coffee. After that…I don’t know.”

Now that he wasn’t standing in front of me, grinning and looking so sincere and excited, other reasons for doing this filtered through my brain. It was his fault that studio apartments went for thirteen hundred dollars a month. So what if I took a little back?

“He’s got to be into something weird, right? If he has to pay for it?” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall.

Jen shrugged. “Either he’s into weird shit or he’s too busy for a girlfriend but still wants to get laid regularly.”

My knees buckled, and I was grateful for the cool cinder block at my back. “Girlfriend?” I didn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.

“Think about it. He’s got an entire city to run. He doesn’t have time to date.”

Of course. He obviously didn’t want me to be his girlfriend . He was trying to pay me. “So you think he wants me to be a sugar baby.” It came out halfway between a question and a statement. I figured we’d agree to some terms at coffee and maybe…fuck, I don’t know what I figured. That I’d hear him out, and then decide.

“If he just wanted to fuck someone once or twice, I don’t think he’d pick up a random server. He came back looking for you, specifically.”

“Why not find someone on, like, Arranged or something?”

Jen rolled her eyes. “Dragons are literally an entirely different species. Maybe this one doesn’t know about sugar baby apps. They aren’t exactly common.”

The squeak of the door opening kept me from responding. Time to get back to work.

Despite my nerves, I slept a full eight hours and woke up refreshed. When was the last time that had happened? Weeks? Months? And all because I wasn’t calculating and recalculating how all my bills would get paid and whether I’d need to put anything on credit this month.

I took a deep breath and surveyed my closet.

What did one wear to meet with a potential…oh, fuck it. A potential sugar daddy. Jen was right. I couldn’t think of any other reason he’d offer me a fuckton of cash for a coffee date.

Fuck.

Okay.

It’s just coffee. You don’t have to agree to anything you’re not comfortable with . Even if I declined an “arrangement” with him, I’d still get whatever he paid me for coffee. I could sleep easy for weeks.

I fingered a thigh-length black dress. Nah. We were meeting in a coffee shop at eight a.m. Finally, I pulled on my nicest jeans and a top that showed a hint of cleavage.

Choosing shoes was the simple part. Of course I wore heels. Close-toed wedges, chunky and casual but still high enough to make me feel powerful, like I wasn’t a server confined to ugly, slip-resistant tennis shoes ninety percent of the time.

I spent way too much time on my hair and makeup. Some of my curls ended up a little limp, and I used too much hairspray to achieve the “breezy” vibe I’d been going for. But all in all, I’d call it a seventy-five percent success.

When I made it to the coffee shop, Az’zael was already waiting for me, impossible to miss with his vibrant red scales. Seated in one of the chairs designed for winged species, he clutched a paper cup. It looked tiny in his massive hands. Hands that were tipped by sharp, sharp claws.

My stomach fluttered, but not with anything as simple as fear. His suit jacket was just as gaudy as ever, and under it he wore a crisp white shirt, open at the throat. Did his scales shift to gold on his chest, the way they did on his palms? Where else did his color shift?

I tamped down the butterflies in my stomach and forced myself forward through the nearly empty coffee shop. The few remaining customers shot him nervous looks out of the corners of their eyes. One or two stared at me as well. Not with curiosity, but like I was walking to the gallows.

When he caught sight of me, he stood, knocking his chair backwards. Someone two tables to the left of us flinched.

Christ, he’s tall. At five foot eight in flats, I was taller than most men when I wore heels. I’d chosen four-inch ones for this meeting, eager for any slight advantage I could get, and I still didn’t reach his chin.

“You came,” he breathed, then shook his head. “Please, have a seat, Elle. ”

I lowered myself into the chair and folded my hands in my lap. “Yep. I’m here.”

“Good. Excellent. Thank you.” He took his own seat, and the tips of his wings fluttered. “I ordered you something.” He gestured to the six— six —coffee cups sitting to one side of the table.

“Thanks. What are they?”

“Lattes. Plain, vanilla, hazelnut, mocha, caramel, and one with oat milk. I didn’t know what you would like, so I got one of everything.”

I licked my lips. “Thank you.” The gesture was sweet, if a little over the top, and warmth mingled with the nerves already dancing through me.

Idiot. He wanted to hire me, not romance me.

I selected the oat milk latte.

Dating a man who would pay for something as small as coffee without pulling out a calculator and demanding I chip in half would be a delightfully novel experience.

He sat there and watched me sip with avid interest.

Okay, conversation was on me, then. Deep breath . “What did you get?”

“Jasmine green tea. Their tea selection is a bit…lacking, but I don’t much care for coffee.” He grimaced, his thin lips curling down. “I’ve tried it. I just don’t understand the appeal. It smells delicious, but it tastes terrible . Especially espresso.”

I relaxed back in my chair. That seemed like such a normal thing to say. “You sound almost offended.” As intense as he was, it was probably a good thing he didn’t like coffee. A heavily caffeinated Az’zael would be way too much to handle.

“Espresso is supposed to be high quality, more concentrated than coffee, and it requires more skill to make, but it’s so bitter .”

The way his face scrunched up, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I can’t stand straight espresso either. I much prefer it with some extras.” I waved my cup, full of oat milk to cut the strong taste.

He tracked my coffee cup’s movement. “If something is high quality, it shouldn’t need to be watered down. You should want as much as you’re able to get.”

That avaricious statement, especially from a dragon, should not have turned me on. “Have you been to this coffee shop before?”

“No, I try to rotate where I go. I don’t want to show any favoritism.”

Considering the reactions he garnered in this small coffee shop and at Norma’s Kitchen—people shooting him glances, patrons leaving early, the bump in business we experienced after he left—I could see why he’d rotate.

“You’ve been to Norma’s Kitchen a handful of times.” Far more, I suspected, than he’d been anywhere else.

“Yes. I’m very fond of it.” His eyes gleamed, and I swallowed.

“Right. Okay.” What did I say to that ?

“Elle.” His voice dropped, and he leaned closer. “Would you like your gift?”