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When they were all seated, Ethan asked, “Where’s Simon?”
Ferret-face said with a sniff, “I’m Simon’s brother, Quentin Jordak. I am currently acting on his behalf while he sees to more important matters within the Council.”
Was this little squirt implying this deal wasn’t important? When the airport went ahead, the Council would get an injection of cash they’d not seen in years. So, this was Simon Jordak’s brother, eh? Simon was a pious prick, one of the descendants of the first mayor of Tween, but Ethan’s gut told him his brother was worse. There was something about him that felt untrustworthy, and he smelled slightly acidic, like his clothes were damp.
While Sonia laid out the refreshments, Ethan purposely slouched in his leather executive chair, his wings flung over the back to show he was not the least bit intimidated by humans.
When they’d all stopped rustling papers and opening laptops, he sat up straight, cleared his throat and announced, “Gentlemen, the reason I have brought you here today is to inform you of a change in my circumstances.”
They stared at him cautiously. “I am officially in a committed relationship with a human. We will be getting engaged shortly. I thought it best to tell you in person, as the news will be in the press shortly. I understand that this changes my legal right to retain the bid on the lands north of Motham.”
“How convenient.” Quentin’s thin eyebrows rose almost to meet his receding hairline. “That you should find yourself in a relationship with a human at this time.”
Ethan raised his own eyebrows in answer. Only his were far more imposing. “I’m not sure I grasp what you’re saying, Quentin.”
“In light of our recent policy change.”
Ethan smirked. “Oh yeah, that. We’ve been dating for some months out of the public eye, but once this policy was announced, my partner insisted it was time to go public with our relationship.”
Levitt said, “I hope you are aware your partner will be expected to sign official documents that will perjure them if they lie. You will suffer heavy fines and will lose the deal, and they could be fined also. Do you understand?”
Ethan inclined his head. “Of course.”
Quentin cut in harshly. “To be eligible, you must have been in a relationship for a minimum of six months before we will consider moving to the next step. How long have you been dating?”
“Seven months.”
“You have proof?”
“Of course. Min will testify to that.”
Quentin nearly shot out of his seat. “Who?”
Ethan frowned. The skinny little guy’s face had gone beet red. Weird.
“Min. She would be known to the Council of Towns as Minerva Westwind.” Ethan maintained eye contact. “I believe the family name is very well respected in Tween.”
Quentin was sitting bolt upright now, almost quivering with what appeared to be incandescent rage. Either that or he was about to have a heart attack. “No way are you dating Minerva Westwind.”
Ethan felt the scales all the way up his spine bristle, no doubt making ridges in his fine linen jacket. What the fuck was up with this little creep? What did he have to do with Min? Trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling, Ethan composed his features. “I can assure you, I am.”
“That’s impossible. I saw her less than two weeks ago, she didn’t mention a thing about dating… a dragon.” Quentin spat the final word like it was poison.
Why the hell had Quentin seen Min so recently? That was just before… just before their arrangement started. Under the desk, Ethan felt his claws flex. He curled his fists together to stop himself from tapping on his leg, and his chest heated ominously. He really wanted to torch this little runt into oblivion.
The other two humans cast a concerned look at Quentin. Ethan guessed that the more mature men had the good sense to know the Council actually needed his money. Not this little jerk, though, who was muttering “impossible” under his breath.
It took all Ethan’s self-control to keep cool and not smoke out the room. “I can assure you, Min is very happy to be dating a dragon. At least, she was this morning when I left her in our bed.”
The scowl deepened on Quentin’s thin face. “You’re saying she—she’s?—”
“Sleeping in my bed? Yes. And living in my home.”
“Minerva would never leave the Westerly. It’s her life.”
“Well, clearly you don’t know Minerva the way I do.” How the fuck did he know Min? “Someone is managing her shop for her, and feeding…” Ethan cast his mind back, “Gingerbread, her cat.”
“She should have told me,” muttered Quentin.
