Dragon’s Curvy Patient

by Daniels, Mychal

  “The way she sees it, you’ll help her raise money for the school, and she’ll show potential patrons how deserving you are as a possible private grant recipient.” The young man’s words wove a tapestry of possibilities. He wasn’t done and added, “as for the short notice, it’s my fault. I asked one of our students to send a formal request a few weeks ago. Somehow it fell through the cracks, and now I’m at your mercy.”

  “Please don’t tell me you promoted me as the speaker without my knowledge. That would be uncool, Mr.—what is your name?” Sabra thought about the Twitter Tsunami of the Pageant Mom Mob if they got wind of this opportunity. The last thing she needed was the Horrible Hags street crew—her name for the activist ringleaders of her ouster—picketing outside the event tonight.

  Those bitches. Not taking that one back. Not sorry.

  The guy’s voice cut through her nightmarish prediction. “Oh, my apologies. It’s Jon, and no, we didn’t advertise your name. This is a very private donor dinner reserved for an elite group of attendees. Due to their positions and status, this caliber of attendees prefers to remain anonymous to the public when it comes to their philanthropic endeavors. Everything will be quaint, private, and discreet. That’s also why the location is private. That brings me to the event, there will be cocktails and after the Dean makes a quick presentation, a sit-down dinner, and your speech. Please say yes, Ms. Patterson?”

  The man’s plea sent enough emotional adrenaline to resuscitate her weary self-identity. Sabra’s ego gobbled up the lifeline enough to punched out reason and take the forefront. It demanded adoration and appreciation. Sabra’s chest stuck out a little more at the notion of being a keynote speaker. At last, someone recognized her value. This Jon fellow had successfully stroked her ego into a frenzy.

  Not gone too far to make a fool out of herself, Sabra took a breath to collect her thoughts. Responsibility and adulting basics fought with folly and fun to make their points. She needed to pack, but she also needed to be comforted by an audience from her rightful industry—or at least rich old people who had connections, clout, and investment cash. This event might be the one to change everything. Play her cards right, and she might land a new angel investor into her new fragrance business.

  The male voice chimed in again. This time with even more desperation. “Ms. Patterson are you still there? I promise everything will be smooth sailing. My team and I will take great care of you.”

  She wanted to make him give her more assurances than a verbal promise over the phone but didn’t want to give nosey Chloe more ammunition to taunt her. The other woman was glued to the conversation.

  Sabra hesitated. She really did need to pack.

  “You’ll say yes? I’m toast if you refuse.”

  And there it was. Her ego had been satisfactorily worshipped. The last nail in the coffin of dreary responsible adulting was slammed into place.

  Fuck it. I can come back after the dinner and finish up.

  The crass word pinged around in her head with the satisfaction of rebellion. Sabra caught the smile that threatened to surface at her bit of naughtiness. She’d never be able to say such a word out loud and keep her reputation for working with children, but damn she needed a release. Plus, she no longer worked with children, so there.

  The decision came fast and pushed through the pause between heartbeats to be acknowledged. That was that. Sabra’s mind was made up. Tonight, she’d leave caution to the wind and pick it back up after the dinner, of course.

  Prepared to finalize her flight of fancy, she said, “Yes, I guess that would work. I don’t have anything prepared, though.” She mumbled the last part more than spoke it as she scanned the room for her future murder victim. Victim Chloe had spotted her next shiny object and was engrossed with one of Sabra’s travel makeup trunks.

  Sabra angrily mouthed and mimed for Chloe to put down her lip gloss case. When the woman shook her head no, Sabra almost forgot she was on the call when the man spoke up again.

  “If it would help, I can pass along some talking points to your assistant. Would that help to make this easier on you?” This time his voice was calm and deeper—with an almost imperceivably sexy lilt to it.

  All right, come through Jon. Who knew a yes would do this to you? She forced herself from daydreaming about what this Jon might look like and if he was single and into her type of feminine—blandly average with a healthy helping of thickness.

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” There was no way she’d let on that she’d never given a keynote speech before. Sabra pulled on the fact that she was gifted with the art of being creative under pressure. Then a bit of common sense whacked her back from stupidity. She almost cooed in her attempt to be cool as she said, “But by all means, please give me the high points that you think will resonate with the crowd and the length to make it. As for Doctor Hassenberg, I don’t remember her. If I were you, I’d make certain you have the right alumnus before we confirm my presence tonight. Like I said, my business success track record has taken a major hit.”

  “Doctor Hassenberg is very thorough. She’s looking forward to tonight. Ms. Patterson, I assure you, I’ll take care of everything to make this as stress-free as possible. Will you do it?”

  “I think you missed the part where I already said I’d do it. So, I’ll repeat it. Yes, I’ll speak. It’s the least I can do for my alma mater.”

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Patterson!” Jon’s tone had brightened to remarkable levels. “I just need a few points of information from you. First, what address do you want me to send the car to pick you up?”

  “Oh, there’s no need, I can drive.”

  “You don’t understand. There’s minimal parking at the location tonight. As I said before, the location is private, and we’d like to keep it that way. So, as a courtesy, we’re providing car services to all the attendees.”

  Sabra had another idea about why. They didn’t want any excuses for people backing out of what sounded like an expensive dinner. Instead of voicing her skepticism, she provided a polite, “I see,” instead.

  After she gave him Chloe’s address all she wanted to do was hurry with the packing and get back to her friend’s loft to get ready.

  “The other bit of information I need from you is where do you want the honorarium sent?”

  “Honorarium? Pardon, I don’t follow your meaning?”

  “Oh, that’s the fancy title Doctor Hassenberg uses for the monetary token of appreciation we give to the speakers.”

  “A speaker’s fee?”

  “Yes, do you have a set fee? If not, Doctor Hassenberg authorized your honorarium at the level that is usual and customary for a keynote speaker at this type of event.”

  Shock only allowed Sabra to form two words, “Which is?”

  “Twenty-five thousand dollars. I’m afraid I don’t have the authorization to go above that without Doctor Hassenberg’s direct approval.”

  Chloe was the first to start jumping up and down at the answer. Sabra wanted to strangle her for acting like a brand-new fool. She still had a little bit of decorum and wanted to make sure this man didn’t realize that the “honorarium” was more than she’d made in the last six months. Times had been very hard.

  Summoning up the willpower to remain outwardly calm, she said, “That is more than generous. Thank you, and please make out the check to me.”

  “No, you don’t understand, we will bank wire it to your account. We’ve had some security issues with paper checks recently. Everything is done directly and digitally.”

  “Oh, I see. Yes, here’s the information.”

  Once Sabra gave him the information to wire the money to her bank account, she disconnected the call and clasped her phone between trembling hands.

  Chloe pounced on her like a cheetah. “Bitch! Won’t he do it? I told you everything would work out. See, now you can stay here and continue to run your business. Go on and call the movers to cancel. We need to get home and get you dressed.”


  “But what about the packing?” Sabra’s mind whizzed with the fact that most of that fee would go to pay her legal bills.

  Chloe was too busy grabbing items she’d decided to take with her to be polite. “I am packing—to leave.”

  “Chloe, stop playing around. I have to get this place finished. Stop that and help me finish.”

  Without missing a beat in her packing to leave, Chloe said, “With twenty-five thousand dollars, you can afford to stay or pay for the last-minute cancellation with the movers. Not to be mean or anything but you look like shit.” Arms full, with a scavenged box of Sabra’s things, Chloe started for the door. A cool burst of early fall air filled the room as the door opened.

  Sabra’s phone chimed with an alert. She opened the bank app to see an automatic transfer from some weird business had posted in the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars. The note was simple: Honorarium for Donor Dinner Speech from Miss Sabra Patterson. Thank you.

  Well, that settled it. She’d been paid, and that meant Sabra had to deliver.

  The chaos of the space loomed large and intimidating as she considered dealing with the packing by herself. Dread for the task won out as she rummaged through packing supplies to locate her purse and keys.

  One last look at the mess and Sabra pressed the chore to the back of her mind. Alone in the space, she allowed herself to indulge in language unbecoming of a pageant-affiliated business provider.

  “Fuck it.” The words burst into the sparse space with newly acquired freedom. It felt good to let what she really wanted to say out of the confines of her mind. The room didn’t look so intimidating now. Newfound boldness zinged her optimism to near invincibility. A nod of acceptance of her defiance sealed the deal. “Yeah, I’ll bring a pair of sweats with me and pack after the dinner tonight.”

  To her amazement, the constant throbbing of her headache and cramps disappeared.

  Seemed like stress and money worries added to menstrual symptoms big time. Good thing she had newfound reasons—twenty-five thousand to be exact—to take the next step in pursuing her passion.

  And with that, she flung the door open headed toward her twenty-five-thousand dollar payday. Now, if she only had a clue on what she could speak about worth that amount of money.

  6

  Cole

  So, this is what it feels like when long-simmering embers attack.

  The payback for years of avoidance and absenteeism was real.

  Damn it, Mac.

  Doctor Nina Hassenberg’s voice dripped over him in thick tentacles of lava-infused words. Smokey and mature, her voice oozed and crackled as an odd mix of etiquette and dominance pinned Colson in the corner.

  Nina had an agenda. For as long as he’d known her, she didn’t do idle chit-chat.

  “You don’t say?” he supplied the requisite reply to something she went on about.

  A strong subtext of power and control over her domain demanded his obedience.

  “You missed the spring event where we hosted a fashion and art presentation. There was full media coverage. In hindsight, I could see how your company would have been a wonderful sponsor for the event. The medical community’s support is poorly lacking in arts, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Point taken. Nina wanted him to know she wasn’t pleased with his lack of previous support. Maybe she should have clunked him over the head with a club instead? It would be quicker and more efficient.

  Not one to ruffle socially accepted behavior, Colson allowed himself to confinement in this tight, dead-end corner of her choosing. She spewed proclamations and bragged about her beloved school as he nodded like the clod he’d become.

  She blathered on. “And then we’ll expand the textile division here. I have an excellent group of students doing wonderful things with energy-producing materials. One of my smaller groups is even working on a fabric project to submit to the Defense Department.”

  “That’s impressive.” The flat tone that crept into his replies still wasn’t enough to deter Nina’s chattiness.

  How much longer? What’s a proper amount of time before I tell her how much I plan to donate and make my leave? His eye’s continued to dart about searching as she droned on. Oh, there he is.

  Colson noticed Nina’s long-time mate working the other side of the room. He released a subvocal rumble in the man’s direction.

  What was his name again?

  Colson’s repeated calls to seize an opportunity to capture the man’s attention failed. His current attempt to lasso her mate over to them, with a now pleading look, resulted in the man’s obvious turn to talk to another couple. Why wouldn’t that old Dragon come and rescue him from her clutches? He must be in on the con, that’s why!

  Colson’s honor and respect for this set of elder Dragons frayed close to snapping. They tried his patience. He had to get a grip on that evaporating patience and remain placable. Something about the atmosphere had his Dragon on high alert, though.

  He zoned out as Nina’s words continued to lap and lull him to cordial submission. A habitual scan of the room for possible illness or unrest returned an odd sensory reaction on his part. His heart rate increased enough to signal alertness.

  What was this?

  As a gifted healer, his ability to scan the surroundings was as integral to his being as breathing. An element of mystery hung in the air and caused his Dragon to take note. Another probe and Colson’s internal sensors didn’t sense danger, but he was definitely on edge.

  Colson shifted and looked around as she continued on about this and the other. Nina wasn’t horrid. She was an elegant and powerful busy body.

  Oh well, no one had forced Colson into the limo. She’d trapped them all here with that little trick. It’d be rude to call a rideshare, and evident to everyone that he’d dishonored an elder of their community.

  Colson kept the internal groan to a low hum. He’d walked into Nina’s domain with full knowledge of the possible setup. Might as well settle in and endure the rest of the evening. Dues for peace and quiet had to be paid from time to time, and his number was up.

  Colson resigned himself to be her dutiful audience when she continued to corner him. He willed the minutes away by mentally calculating how much to increase his donation to ensure another dinner like this never happened.

  Hypersensitive to his surroundings, Colson’s attention flew to the main doors of the room. They opened, and a small mix of people filed in.

  “And, there she is. Look over there, Doctor Kelnar,” Nina motioned to a small group across the room. “That young lady, wearing the wine-garnet ensemble, is our honored alumnus and speaker for the night. I present to you, Miss Sabra Patterson.”

  He could swear she stressed the Miss part. So like Nina to also concentrate fashion specifics that fell on deaf ears where he was concerned.

  It wasn’t until Nina pointed out the speaker for the evening that he decided to pay attention. Together with Nina, he watched the other woman from across the intimate setting of the private dining room. He stroked his full beard mindlessly as the woman engaged a group of his peers in light conversation.

  It took a few moments for him to realize that his tell was showing. Stroking his beard was an unconscious sign of his interest in or concentration on someone or something. The object of his focus was the beautiful speaker.

  His hand dropped in hopes that Nina didn’t recognize his little slip. No use giving her more ammo to use against him. Nina could be brutal when it came to getting what she wanted. That Dragoness thought it was her divinely appointed right to matchmake and meddle in the affairs of others.

  Still, his attention beelined it to this Sabra Patterson. All evidence pointed to her being the highlight of the menu tonight—even if she was going to be at the table.

  He offered Nina an appropriate smile as his thoughts took off.

  You sneaky old Dragoness. Not going to lie, you’ve piqued my curiosity.

  He allowed the thought to manifest a
s an acknowledgment to Nina’s prowess. Of course, Nina had nailed it with this beauty before them. Her legendary excellent taste and exceptional understanding of how to ensnare and match was the fodder of legends.

  Dragons did have their stubborn pride, though, him included. He didn’t want to be led around by the nose. Or, at least, he didn’t want to know it was happening.

  Colson didn’t try to hold back the chuckle bouncing around in his chest. Nina was a boss!

  No one ever said Nina wasn’t at the top of her game when it came to manipulating many Dragon males’ desires. That’s why it was always better to pay than to play with Nina. She was the heavy-weight contender and held no punches.

  His eyes drifted to locate the speaker, case in point—this woman was the epitome of interesting.

  Complexion on par with the smoothness of a decadent Godiva’s Chocolate truffle, the speaker’s skin glowed with youthful vitality. Her body boasted fertile promises as full curves sloped and rounded in the most tempting way. She wasn’t a Dragoness, but she wasn’t entirely human either. Curiosity and the thrill of discovery of what her hidden heritage might reveal heightened his interest.

  Even though the Dragonkin around dwarfed her in height, this Sabra Patterson stood a few inches taller than Bronwyn but had a similar fullness to her body that appealed to his Dragon sense of beauty. Thoughts of what his new cousin, Bronwyn’s take would be on her wondered in. Would she like Sabra? Would they get along?

  Why this train of thought came to be was folly. What did it matter? The only thing he’d attribute the flight of fancy to was that it appeared that the woman gave out a similar innocent quality of her essence to that of Bronwyn’s.