Dragon's Treasure (BBW/Dragon Shifter Romance) (Lords of the Dragon Islands Book 1)

by Isadora Montrose

  “I can open the door from inside,” he had replied clearly amused by her concern.

  “I'll make sure to keep your door locked, sir.” No point in arguing with the boss.

  But no point in pissing him off either. “I'll be happy to have that photocopied for you, Ms. Townshend,” she had replied pleasantly to the other woman’s instructions. “If you'll have a seat, I'll inform Mr. Sarkany that you are here.”

  Leah had picked up the phone and spoken first to Hugo, and then to Mandy who had been assigned to perform such routine matters as dealing with couriers and copying documents.

  Leah could tell that Tina wasn't pleased that the busy work she had asked Leah to do was being done by Mandy, but she didn't say anything. She just looked more and more furious, the longer Hugo kept her waiting. Mind, when Sarkany had finally deigned to emerge from his lair to take Tina to lunch, she had been all simpering smiles and fluttering eyelashes. Leah had eaten her sandwich at her desk in deference to the boss's orders.

  But that had been two weeks ago. This evening, when Tina came into the outer office at seven thirty, she had taken her hair down and removed her tailored blazer to reveal that her sleek black shift was backless. Her face stiffened when she saw Leah sitting at her desk typing. Of course, that could just be the botox, Leah thought. Bless her scrawny heart.

  “Good evening, Ms. Townshend. I'll tell Mr. Sarkany that you are here.” Leah picked up the phone and Tina turned her back without acknowledging her and went to look out the window.

  Well, the view from the seventy-seventh floor over the city was fantastic. But Leah had to wonder at the wisdom of wearing a dress that revealed quite so much of your spinal column and ribs. Anorexic, the poor little darling.

  Tina had quite a long wait. She had decided to sit down and check her email on her phone some twenty minutes before Hugo emerged. Mannerless, utterly mannerless, thought Leah. They deserved each other.

  “I'll just sign these letters and let Leah go home, and then we can leave,” he told Tina casually. If he noticed she was seething, he didn't show it.

  Leah hid her smile. He was such a boor. What would make any woman put up with being treated like this? Money? Give her Poppy's old fashioned courtesy any day of the week. It would last longer than riches.

  “Good night,” she said impartially to both of them as she picked up her purse and locked her desk. “I'll drop these in the box on my way downstairs. They'll go out first thing tomorrow.”

  “It's dark,” said Hugo in surprise. “How are you getting home?”

  “Transit, sir,” Leah said.

  “We'll drop you home on our way to the restaurant,” Hugo decided.

  Tina looked nonplussed and then furious. It was hard to look angry when your face couldn't move, Leah decided, but Tina had managed it. Something about the way her green eyes hardened.

  Leah shook her head decisively. “Thank you for the offer, sir. But it's too far out of your way,” she added firmly. “You all have a good evening.”

  She was sorry later as she sat eating her supper of cold chicken and salad while catching up with her coding assignments. It would have been a lot easier to have a chauffeured limousine take her home instead of spending an hour on the bus. But Grammy had always told her not to take rides from strange men, and they didn't come stranger than enigmatic Hugo Sarkany.

  * * *

  It had been a mistake to start an affair with his CFO. Hugo reproached himself as he sat beside Tina Townshend in the back of his stretch limousine. A bony mistake. She should have been perfect for him. She knew all the ins and outs of his business empire. She had a mind like a steel trap. She was elegant, poised and sophisticated. But she was also a bitch.

  And she faked her orgasms. That was the trouble with being a dragon, you could tell how aroused a female was from across the room. Leah St. George looked prim as hell, whatever the hour, but she throbbed with a low level attraction whenever he came into her room. Not that she wasn't perfectly composed, but he could smell her juices from his desk.

  Hell, he could smell her from down the hall with the door closed. Or in his executive bathroom which had two doors so that visitors wouldn't see if he went to take a leak.

  But for all Tina acted like she wanted him, she never got hot. She was pretty good at doing an imitation of passion, and she had some interesting moves, but it was all an act. She looked good in her clothes, but when she took them off, her joints and hip bones stuck out and her gym muscles were stiff and lumpy. No amount of caressing softened her either.

  He couldn't face another evening of this ice cold seductress in his bed. Leah had picked out a lovely bracelet, even though he knew she disliked Tina. And even though she thought he was imposing on her by getting her to buy his gifts. But it was such fun to ruffle starchy Ms. St. George.

  Because that was the irony of it. Round and luscious Leah St. George was as straitlaced as a nun. Her frumpy suits had three buttons that battened down what had to be the loveliest rack he had seen in years. Her suit skirts came down past her dimpled knees. And she wore some brutal undergarments that prevented her lush ass from bouncing when she walked. But nevertheless she made his mouth water.

  But he had to stay away from that innocent temptress. From her blonde waves to her black patent pumps, she was a danger to him. For a start her name was St. George. That boded badly for any dragon. She probably carried a spear just for slaying twenty-four foot long lizards that threatened her virtue.

  Because she was virtuous. He could sense it. Just as he could sense that Tina was humming with excitement tonight. Not sexual excitement like sweet, juicy Leah, but greedy anticipation as though she were closing a business deal. His gold eyes shuttered in the twilight of the backseat.

  “I have to leave next week,” he announced into the silence.

  Tina started. She smiled at him. “I thought you wanted to handle the Eco Fund setup yourself.”

  “You and Brewster are doing fine. You don't need my input any longer,” Hugo said with finality.

  “Oh.” Tina swallowed. Hugo could see the muscles of her throat tense and wasn't surprised that her voice went up an octave. “I'll miss you.”

  “That's kind of you to say.” Hugo said. “You have certainly made my stay in Atlanta most agreeable.”

  “Agreeable,” Tina attempted a seductive voice, but seductive was well-nigh impossible when your vocal cords were strangled with anger.

  Hugo watched his CFO with interest. Her anger was interesting. Had she really thought she had netted him after a few evenings of play-acting? He smiled at her tight face. “Most agreeable, Tina. I'll look forward to future visits to Georgia.”

  The evening went downhill after that. Hugo had to sit through a lavish dinner while his companion gave off the rank odor of fury and frustration. Not that she was overt about her feelings. Tina smiled adoringly at him and opened her green eyes wide. She hung on his few words, and trotted out snippets of industry gossip with amusing venom.

  But he didn't think he needed his dragon senses to tell that she was irate. Her mouth was as thin and flat as it was possible for lips stuffed with collagen to get. Hugo examined her face critically. He knew she was only thirty-eight but she had already had a lot of work done. Good quality work, but her eyes had the telltale, stretched-tight slant and her face was pretty much immobile.

  There he went again, contrasting her with plump and pretty Leah again. But Leah St. George had muscle in her face, under a softening layer of fat. Her face was smooth and her cheeks were rosy. She looked delicious and she smelled like a wet dream. Just thinking about her made him hard. Which was unfortunate when he was with another woman.

  And wasn't that the problem he had had for the past two weeks? Every time he invited a perfectly beautiful woman out, he spent the evening fantasizing about his demure PA and contrasting her ambrosial scent with the expensive perfumes worn by his date. Leah smelled of soap and woman. Juicy, tantalizing woman. Tina smelled of JAR Bolt of Lightning and
hate.

  She accepted his Tiffany bracelet with a purr of satisfaction and approval. “It's gorgeous,” she whispered huskily. She held out a thin wrist, “Won't you put it on for me?”

  Hugo slipped the wide cuff over Tina's narrow wrist. It was an extravaganza of diamonds and emeralds, designed to make a statement. It suited his CFO's understated elegance and added glamour to her chic appearance. Leah had chosen well—despite her disapproval.

  “I'm glad you like it,” he said. “I hope you'll think of me when you wear it.”

  Tina's taut face became still tauter. “Oh, I will treasure it,” she said. “But I hope I'll have many occasions to wear it around you.”

  Hugo shook his head. “I have no plans to return to Atlanta. Looks like you and the rest of the team have the situation well in hand.”

  “I thought I had given you a more personal reason to return,” Tina said throatily.

  “Alas, I can't always follow personal inclination,” Hugo parried.

  He sent Tina home alone in the limousine. He walked the two blocks to his hotel and made his way to the penthouse suite where he was staying. His eyes barely noticed the luxurious surroundings in his rooms. He was feeling frustrated and deprived.

  That wholesome wench was constantly in his thoughts. He should just have a couple of evenings of her company, scratch this itch and be done with it. Have to buy her jewelry himself, but that minor inconvenience would be worth it to be finished with his obsession with the modest nonentity. No woman ever held his interest for long, there was no reason that Leah St. George would be any different.

  He'd take her with him when he left for Isle Balaur. They would have a pleasant romp in the sparkling turquoise water of his private Caribbean island and he would get her out of his system. She would enjoy the luxury of his jet, and his beach house. He would enjoy that opulent body. And she would return to Atlanta richer than she had left it.

  Flushed with satisfaction, Hugo went to bed to dream of his innocent temptress.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was pure stupidity to be enticed by a horndog like Hugo Sarkany, Leah told herself. She had to forget about how wide his shoulders were under his ten thousand dollar suits. How flat his belly was. She had to remember what a total satyr he was. A sensible woman would not get turned on by a guy who ogled his employee. She shouldn't be sitting all day in damp panties in response to loathsome behavior.

  Well, this was a problem that would take care of itself. Sarkany would be jetting off sometime next week if his instructions to his pilot were any indication. He had an empire that stretched across the world, and this little bit of it in Atlanta was very minor indeed. Once he had gone, she would be reassigned by Executive Services—hopefully to someone who sucked up less of her private life, so she could actually look for a real job.

  It was true that Executive Services paid her by the hour. But they didn't pay overtime, and she saw a small fraction of the extremely high price her agency was charging Sarkan Industries Inc. for her services. If she worked more than eight hours they billed the client for time and a half. But they continued to pay her the same hourly rate—unless she worked more than sixty hours per week on average over a month.

  So all her late nights working for Sarkany did was deprive her of time to write code and get her debts paid down. If she could have managed without her temping, she would have bailed. But the coding by itself wasn't sufficient, and for sure if she had refused to work for Sarkany, Executive Services would have sacked her. And no one would have blamed them.

  But it wouldn't be long before she was sitting in some used car dealership handling the phones and going home at five. All she had to do was hang on for another few days. Sarkany would conclude his business and go away for good.

  Probably the only reason she was attracted to the lascivious Mr. Sarkany was that she had no sex life. If she had had a normal social life in college, no doubt she would have found a boyfriend long ago. She wouldn't be twenty-seven and the oldest virgin in Atlanta who didn’t live in a convent.

  But Grammy had been failing even when Leah started college. She had only been able to go part time, and she had had to spend all her free time making sure her grandmother didn't wander off or leave the stove lit when she left the kitchen. She had barely had time to go to class. Participating in campus life was out of the question.

  Not that she resented Grammy's needing her. She didn't really remember her parents they had died so long ago. Poppy and Grammy were all the family she had ever had and she had loved them dearly. Poppy's death had broken Grammy's heart and she had really never been the same afterwards. Leah didn't know when Grammy's grief had slid into dementia, but by the time Leah graduated high school, her grandmother could no longer cope.

  There had never been any question of Leah going away to college. The plan had always been for her to live at home while she got her degree in Computer Science. But if Grammy had been able to make meals and keep house, Leah might have had time to make friends and date. But life was what you made of it. And they had managed. And she had graduated with good marks.

  After college, Leah had gotten a good job at Lever Security Systems, and she had been doing well until Grammy got so she couldn't be left alone even for a short time. Leah had done her sums and realized that she could afford only substandard nursing homes for Grammy. She had tried to get a leave of absence from her employer, but Lever let her go instead.

  Leah didn't regret that she had spent three years scrimping and juggling money so Grammy could stay in her own home. But she did regret that good job at Lever. She had had benefits and a K400 package and everything. It was hard to be in debt too. But Grammy and Poppy's house had lost value after the recession and had never recovered.

  Given time, she would get out from under. She would pay off her debts. She would find herself a boyfriend and start the family she craved. One day at a time, she told herself as she turned off her computer and got ready for bed.

  * * *

  “Run that past me again,” said Leah to Abby Markham. She glared crankily at her mobile.

  “I said Mr. Sarkany has bought out your contract with us. He wants you to continue as his PA,” Abby repeated smoothly. “I'd think you'd be over the moon.”

  “Well, I'm not. I'm a homebody. I can't just go swanning off someplace at the drop of a hat. Besides, how long is this job for?” Leah tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “Calm down,” Abby instructed her brusquely. “It's six weeks in the Caribbean until Mr. Sarkany's PA comes back from mat leave.”

  “Mat leave,” echoed Leah. “Well, I still can't go. I don't have a passport for one thing.”

  “Not a problem. Mr. Sarkany owns Isle Balaur. You won't need a passport.” Abby was smug.

  Leah gulped. “What's the catch?” she asked.

  “Catch, there's no catch.” But Abby's voice said she was holding something back and Leah's intuition pinged.

  “I've just spent two and a half weeks typing up contracts and letters for Mr. Sarkany,” she told Abby. “Mr. Sarkany can be generous, but no one is a tougher negotiator. I want to see the terms of my employment before I agree.”

  Leah started thinking about her wardrobe. Even though she was a native of Atlanta, she didn't own clothes suitable for working in a tropical environment where there was no guarantee of AC. And wearing her casual clothes around Sarkany for six weeks would be unprofessional—and unwise.

  “I don't think that is necessary,” Abby returned curtly. “You will be paid your hourly rate of course, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And a substantial bonus on completion of the contract. Very generous terms.”

  “You don't think that the terms and conditions of my employment are any of my business?” Leah said in disbelief. “I'm afraid I disagree. And just how much exactly is a substantial bonus, anyway?”

  “Fifteen thousand dollars,” Abby said triumphantly.

  Leah laughed. “That's a joke. You send me the contract and let
me look it over. If I'm going to be sold like some baseball player I want to know the details.”

  “Oh, all right,” said Abby hastily. “Mr. Sarkany offered one hundred and fifty thousand to be split however Executive Services decided.”

  Leah chuckled softly. Time to play hardball. However this ended, she was not going to be working for Executive Services ever again. Not when she had so thoroughly annoyed Abby. “Of course he did. Plus a massive premium on your usual charges. Let's say that I get one hundred percent of the bonus and my hourly rate tripled, and we might have a deal. Conditional on the contract bearing out your version.”

  “I don't appreciate your attitude, young woman,” said Abby tartly. “I gave you a job when you couldn't get hired anywhere else.”

  Leah took a deep breath. “And you've had more than a day's work for a very sorry day's pay. Fair's fair. If you want me on that plane with Sarkany, you send me the contract right now.”

  “So you're going?” Abby sounded a little desperate.

  “Probably. You let me see that contract, and then I'll decide. Send it to my personal email, please.” Leah hung up before Abby finished spluttering.

  Well, she had burned her bridges. But she was pretty certain that Hugo Sarkany had made an offer she was in no position to refuse. He had a knack for knowing what people wanted and giving it to them—or at least just so much of it as was necessary.

  She was suspicious of his motives. Of course she was. He had spent weeks stripping her naked with those golden eyes of his. But, on the other hand, in no way did she resemble those anorexic, trophy women he actually dated. If his tastes ran to size zeroes, she was built on far too lavish a scale for that player.

  Leah looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing her grey suit skirt again and a simple blue cotton blouse and pantyhose. She looked curvy and well fed. The muscles of her arms filled out her sleeves and her calves were round and strong.

  She was a robust woman and she looked like the rollerblader she had been in her youth. Under all her softness lurked supple slabs of muscle. No one would ever need to airbrush her joints to make her look less knobby. Her spine lay in a well-defined groove of pure muscle. No bones poked out of her skin. She was womanly all right, but a fashion model she was not.