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Min couldn’t help but perk up. Adina was right, this had the potential to solve all her problems. She looked at Gingerbread, happily curled up on Adina’s lap. It almost felt like serendipity.
Still, her cautious nature knew there was more to consider. “May I ask… who is this… monster?”
“A very successful business owner with a large enterprise in Motham. I would prefer to say nothing more in case word spreads—not that I don’t trust you, my dear, but walls have ears. I will courier you the details later today.”
“Could you at least tell me his species?” It wasn’t that she had any prejudices—Min mixed with all kinds of monsters here in the shop. But still, it would be good to know.
“He’s dragon.”
A dragon. Min felt her pulse speed up. She’d had a fascination with dragon kind since childhood. Something bubbled up inside her whenever she found a book on them. Which didn’t happen often—books on dragons were the rarest kind. “I see. And when will you require a decision?”
“By tomorrow. Or I will have to consider other options for my client.”
Min sighed. Her morning so far had been full of shocking revelations—and ultimatums.
She nodded. “I will await the paperwork then. And let you know by tomorrow.”
“Thank you. You will not be disappointed if you choose to accept.” Adina looked down and gave a rueful smile at the cat, still curled up on her lap. “He’s asleep.”
“I’m so sorry. He’s never done this before.”
“It’s not a problem. I adore cats,” Adina said. “But you may wish to remove him. Gently.”
With a little smile, Min bent over and scooped Gingerbread off Adina’s lap. Giving a small mewl of complaint, he nestled limp as a baby against her shoulder.
Anyone would think this woman was a cat-whisperer. Or maybe her beautiful peacock coat was like catnip.
Adina stood and, picking up her bundle of books and her glittery purse, sashayed toward the door.
“Lovely little bookshop.” She glanced around before she left. “It would be such a shame to lose it.”
CHAPTER 2
The wailing sound echoed down the stairwell of the Blade mansion as Ethan strode through the front door.
He braced himself.
Mother was having another of her turns. And he’d just had the worst fucking day at the office.
But as the eldest of the two Blade sons, the only responsible, sensible one at that, it was his job to calm her down.
Grimacing, he shoved his fists into his pockets as he made his way up the ornate staircase, taking the steps two at a time, then strode down the corridor to her room.
She lay limply on the bed, in her fancy clothes—why she wore so much lace, he had no idea; it was highly flammable—one silver stiletto kicked off, panting and breathing billows of smoke. When she wailed again, a little puff of fire licked out of one nostril.
Gods, she’d set the bed cover on fire if she went on like this.
“Mom, sshh, all the staff will hear you.”
“I don’t care. Oh, Ethan.” Her features crumpled. “It didn’t work.”
He tried not to roll his eyes. Honestly, he tried to be caring, sympathetic, he really did, but his mom’s “turns” had gone on for as long as he could remember, and had gotten worse since their father died. She leaned on him, relied on him to fill his father’s shoes. Sometimes it wore a bit thin.
But he did his best. He goddamn ran the whole of Blade Wing Air, had major plans to extend, to build a new airport, just as Dad has planned to, but sometimes the burden on his shoulders felt too much.
“Mom, you’re hyperventilating.” He sat down gingerly on the bed and handed her a heatproof handkerchief. “Here, use this, at least it won’t ignite,” he said. “Now, let’s practice your breathing exercise, shall we?”
As if she hadn’t heard him, she grabbed his arm, her claws digging in, and big tears pooled in her golden eyes. “They promised the treatment would make me shift. But I lay there and lay there and still… I’m this.” She swept a hand down her body with a grimace of despair.
