Page 5 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Chapter Five

THE MORNING OF THE DRAGON

Khanner Rokoth

The air is crisp and cold when I arrive in Obsidian City via Rift Gate. The city is still shaking off the last remnants of night, the skyline dusted in the early hues of dawn.

I like this time of day.

The world is quiet, and in Vormugh Enterprises there is no chatter, no distractions, just the smooth rhythm of my own thoughts.

Except when the elevator doors open on the executive floor, the silence isn’t empty. A faint hum of activity reaches my ears. Unusual.

I stride down the hall, my footsteps absorbed by the polished obsidian floors. The space should be still, untouched.

Instead, I find her. Sunny Adlawan, already at work. She wears a black pantsuit cut precisely to her frame, emphasizing her long and lean silhouette. She doesn’t fidget, or pull on her hem or cuffs. She surveys her work with confidence, comfortable with herself and her surroundings.

Her sleek, black hair tamed into a low pony tail swishes in time to her careful strides. She moves around the conference room once more, adjusting chairs with careful precision. She barely glances up before catching sight of me.

She smiles, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. Not the usual expression that welcomes me when I surprise an underline. Curioser still, is that she waves at me. As if I haven’t been watching her for the last few minutes.

Without hesitation, Sunny steps forward, closing the distance between us. I take in every movement, every gesture. Her radiant smile reaches her dark brown eyes the exact shade as my favorite espresso as she extends her hand.

“Good morning, Ser Rokoth,” she says, her voice light but steady, warm yet professional. “Pleasure to meet you in person at last.”

I glance at her outstretched hand.

I take it.

Warm. Soft. As expected.

Yet there’s strength beneath the surface—a quiet, steady confidence.

She doesn’t rush the gesture, doesn’t overcompensate. Just firm, efficient, and assured.

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 a Good Morning or a Thank 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 every change, 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.

I have worked with Otherkin, mages, even ancient bloodlines with untouchable pedigrees in business and politics. I have seen centuries of trained discipline in the executive world.

But Sunny?

She is human.

And she is already outpacing them.

Soon, she will be outpacing me.

“I’ll check in beforehand,” I say, watching her closely. “Anything else I should know?”

She hesitates—just a flicker of thought passing over her face before she gives a small, knowing smile.

“No, only that I took the liberty of preparing your espresso doppio and a plate of shortbread cookies in your office, so you can leave those here for the actual meeting,” she says nodding toward the treats I’ve been inching toward as she gathers her folio. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go ahead and wrap up a few more things on my end.”

She is already halfway to the door when I realize I’ve been dismissed. She tosses over her shoulder, “If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs. I have to meet the delivery service for the pastries.”

And then she’s gone.

Leaving me here. Alone.

With the perfectly arranged table.

With the seamless efficiency of her work.

With the small, quiet urge to follow her.

I squelch that feeling deep down and force my feet in the opposite direction toward my office where a private serving of my espresso and cookies await me.

Sunny’s workstation draws my attention as I pass it, an aesthetically pleasing balance of clean space and personal decor. Even in her absence, her presence lingers.

I shake my head to clear it from these disctracting thoughts and push into my office, closing the door behind me so I can focus. As promised, the espresso waits for me on a warmer. The treats sealed under a glass dome.

These accessories are new, yet they feel as if they’ve always been a part of my desk.

Dammit. I am here to run a financial review.

Not to think about how thoughtful Sunny is. How warm her hand had been in mine. Nor wonder if her lips are as soft as her fingers.

Work. You need to work, you monumental fool.

No proposing to the admin, no matter how much Urul and Royce tease me.

No appreciating the way she sees to every detail before I have even voiced them.

No imagining her in my office, sitting across from me, laughing softly at something I said.

Absolutely not.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling a slow breath.

The meeting isn’t for another hour, and already, I am itching to get started if only to see Sunny at work.

I need to push through one more stretch of off-site Boardroom interviews.

Because once this is done?

I’ll be in the office full-time.

And I’ll be working with her.

Every. Single. Day.

The thought shouldn’t please me as much as it does.

But it does.

Damn it.