Page 9 of Conning Her Dragonkin Boss (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Chapter Nine

THE PROBLEM WITH STUBBORN PEOPLE

Khanner Rokoth

Sunny and I have settled into a perfect rhythm over the past few weeks.

Each morning, she brings me my espresso doppio and shortbread cookies, perfectly timed—hot, no sugar.

My reports appear on my desk before I ask for them.

She anticipates my needs with efficiency and precision, sending detailed daily updates so I don’t have to chase anyone down.

In return, I make sure the staff lounge is stocked with her favorite snacks, sauces, and that ridiculous crispy chili oil she hoards like it’s liquid gold.

Of course, after tasting it, I, too, put it on nearly everything.

After she forgot her lunch once, I arranged a catering service to supply midday meals so she would never have to worry about it again. When Urul raised his eyebrow at me, I reminded him that well-nourished staff are productive staff.

No one needs to know that I did it for Sunny.

Not that it matters. They all seem to enjoy her presence anyway. Perhaps it will only heighten her esteem in their eyes if they knew she is the reason for my generosity.

This system works.

Sunny is predictable, dependable, and too intelligent for her own good.

Which is why when she walks into the office today, looking like she spent the night fighting an entire war, I immediately notice.

Her usual polished blazer dress is replaced by an oversized cardigan.

Her black hair is twisted into a messy bun that looks like a cactus, and she’s wearing glasses.

I don’t know why the glasses throw me, but they do.

It’s not that she looks bad—far from it.

She’s still beautiful.

But her skin is paler than usual, her steps slower.

Perhaps she overexerted herself over the weekend. I hear her mentioning some passion project she’s working on to her colleagues. Maybe they ought to tell her to get some rest.

When she hands me my reports, her fingers are cold.

Something is off.

A scent lingers in the air as she moves past me.

Menthol.

Something sharp and medicinal.

I narrow my eyes, watching her carefully. “You’re sick.”

She waves a dismissive hand at my accusation. “Just allergies.”

I don’t argue, but I don’t believe her either.

I know for a fact the building’s air filtration system eliminates all allergens. It was one of the many modifications installed when we took over Vormugh Tower—Otherkin sensitivities require a strictly controlled environment.

It’s a lie, but not an outright, blatant one.

If she knew how easily it is to know she’s lying, she wouldn’t waste energy trying it with me.

Instead of pressing, I let it go. For now.

After all, she is allowed some privacy.

On Tuesday, she works just as hard as always, but I notice the small things.

The slight tension in her shoulders. How she rubs her temple when she thinks I’m not looking. The measured breaths between tasks.

Not only does menthol permeate her aura, but also a layer of something herbaceous-smelling—rosemary?—clings to her.

For her afternoon hot beverage, she chooses tea instead of coffee.

Tea.

Something she never drinks in the office unless it’s iced and sweet.

The scent of arnica wafts into my office now, faint, but noticeable—pain relief. One she is applying even now.

She’s pushing through whatever pain she is feeling, refusing to acknowledge it.

Royce manages to find his way to my office, striding through my doorway, Urul close to his heels, closing the door behind him. Rooyce takes a seat as if he were invited. “I told you you were working her too hard.”

Urul follows suit. “It was only a matter of time.”

I scowl at them. “She likes working hard.”

Royce snorts. “I bet she does,” he says mockingly.

I glare at him. “Shut up.”

I don’t say more, letting them both tease me about working her too hard.

As if he understands Sunny or her work ethic. People like her need to work. It’s like therapy, or self-care, or whatever it is the current generation likes to call it.

I hate it most of all because they are voicing what I’ve already suspected.

On Wednesday, she’s worse.

Not by much—just enough that I see it.

She’s a fraction slower at grabbing reports.

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

She pops pain relievers like candy, swallowing them down with careful, measured sips of tea.

The scent of menthol, rosemary, and arnica clings like a cloud around her. She’s masking her pain, yet says nothing.

So I say nothing.

But I watch.

On Thursday Morning, she walks in like nothing is wrong even though she looks like death warmed over.

I’ve had enough. I push the intercom to get her into my office.

Sunny barely shuts the door behind her.

“You’re not coming to the meeting,” I say by way of greeting.

She blinks at me, frozen in place. “Excuse me?”

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.

“But I’ve put in all that work,” she says, the first hint of a whine curling around her words. She twists her cuff between her fingers. She never fidgets. “And, the hotel has great amenities.”

Something akin to guilt weaves itself beneath my skin. I do not like that she is genuinely so upset. And she has a point regarding the amenities. Perhaps it would be best for her to go simply to experience them.

“You may travel with us, and enjoy the amenities. Gods know you deserve them,” I say, relenting just slightly. “But I will still have final say on your participation in Saturday’s conference.”

She narrows her eyes. “The conference I coordinated?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “One that you were invited to attend.” The crestfallen expression on her face twists something in my gut. “Of course, whether you are in attendance or not, you still get credit for doing the work, for putting in the effort. Your mark is practically on every page and slide of the presentation.”

I sit in the chair next to hers. I have never put in this much effort to make sure an employee would feel valued and included, but then again, no other employee has earned it. Especially not as quickly as she has.

Sunny has earned this face-to-face. “Look. You are still part of the team, and will still be attending,” I say, mimicking the cadence I often see Urul use when speaking to his subordinates. “I would feel better that you don’t push yourself into a coma. You are no good to anyone that way. Besides, if that happens, you won’t be around to write your incident report.”

Sunyn bursts into riotous guffaws. Hearing her laugh at something I said makes something shift inside of me. Something I’ve been ignoring for quite some time, and even now, still fight to suppress.

When her laughs turn into coughs, I run to grab her a bottle of water.

I recognize her relenting before she finally concedes defeat. “Fine. I’ll go home today, as I should have had the day off anyway. And I will be at the Rift Portal gates bright and early on Friday to help set up at the conference site in New Vegas. And, while there, you will wonder why we even had this silly conversation.”

I smirk. “A pleasure doing business, Ms. Adlawan.”

Her lips twitch. “Same, Ser Rokoth.”

I don’t quite linger, but I do make sure she is actually leaving and headed toward the residential floors before retreating into my office.

I feel like I just won the most challenging negotiation of my career.

And I once parted goblins from their precious gold.

I pull up the comms channel for the VorTech data geeks, requesting additional hands for the presentation in case they are needed. They are to be completely familiar and fluent in the data. The senior tech responds that he will choose his best and brightest.

I ought to feel at peace by that, but I don’t knowing their best and brightest was a dim bulb compared to Sunny.

Instead, I choose a thumbs up icon to acknowledge his words.

As an afterthought, I ask him to show me how I can ensure that an employee is offline.

“You mean, if they’re online?” he asks.

“No. Offline. If I meant online, I would have stated it.” I snarl, smoke curling from my nostrils. Even though it kills me, I explain myself. “I need to make sure someone is not gaining access to the comms channel and portail while off the clock.”

“Oh sure. An easy way to do it is just to block their access for the day. That way you will know even if they set their status to invisible.”

Set their status to invisible? That’s an option? I can picture Sunny doing exactly that. Whole arguments bloom in my head now, reprimanding her for being online when she said she wouldn’t.

Before I start drafting her performance improvement plan for an imaginary infraction, I ask the tech to block her access until 8:59AM Friday morning.

There. Now she has to rest.