Page 101 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

He closed his eye again, offering no defense.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the tiny bathroom, where the mirror revealed a woman who had slept badly after making the poor choice to experience hope, attraction, career advancement, and emotional whiplash in one evening. My mascara had mostly survived my shower and was now a faint shadow beneath my eyes, which felt accurate for a woman who’d slept poorly and made several emotional mistakes in formalwear.

Very professional.

Very hirable.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and pinned my hair into submission. The dress hung on the back of my closet door, much too glamorous for the morning after. I looked at it for two full seconds before turning away.

Nope.

Last night had happened. The Friday meeting was real. Dr. Georgiana Sorel had agreed to personally review the provenance packet. Rafe’s family sword was closer to coming home because I’d spoken carefully, Max had sat beautifully, and Miriam Sorel had been the exact kind of woman who made you believe marriage could involve both private safe words and excellent event design.

Also, Rafe had almost looked like he wanted to kiss me.

Maybe.

Possibly.

I got dressed in gray, wide-leg trousers, a tucked-in blouse the color of marigolds, and a thrifted houndstooth blazer that made me look put-together even though I didn’t feel it, which was the entire point of office attire. My shoes went on last, blessedly flat and therefore the only footwear I trusted not to betray me before noon. I packed my tote with my laptop, a legal pad, the charger that only worked if angled perfectly, and the leftovers Avery had bullied me into taking.

Then I opened my empty cabinet and considered treating myself to coffee from the place two blocks over.

Real coffee.

A latte with oat milk and enough cinnamon to convince my nervous system it had been hugged.

I could almost taste it. Warm cup in my hand, actual espresso, maybe one of those little pastries I pretended were breakfast because they had almonds on top. Almonds were basically protein, anyway.

Then I remembered the office had free coffee.

Free coffee that tasted like someone had threatened a bean near hot water, but free was a powerful flavor profile.

“No latte,” I told Max, clipping his leash to his collar. “We are women of restraint.”

Max blinked at me.

“One woman and one man of restraint. Sorry. Very rude of me.”

He yawned.

The apartment looked smaller than usual after the gala, which I hated. I loved this place fiercely, but after chandeliers and marble and a car with enough room for Max to stretch out like a visiting statesman, my apartment seemed vulnerable in the morning light.

That wasn’t Rafe’s fault.

It was also not a reason to think about him.

Which I absolutely wasn’t doing.

I wasn’t thinking about the way he’d asked permission before adjusting Max’s tie. I wasn’t thinking about his hand at my back when we’d danced. I wasn’t thinking about how he’d stepped away outside my door, jaw tight, as if restraint had cost him something.

And I was definitely not thinking about his fucking gorgeous mouth.

My romantic life had been stale for long enough that my body had decided to treat basic male proximity like breaking news. That was all. I blamed it on stress, exhaustion, the formalwear effect, plus an extended dry spell best classified as a protected historical site. I had no business developing feelings for a sexy billionaire dragon shifter, especially not when he was a client that could possibly advance my career. Besides, there was no way that man was interested in a broke intern with student loans, one elderly dog, and a tote bag held together by sheer force of will and a little luck.

What could I offer him?

A MetroCard with insufficient funds and access to the best discount ramen in a six-block radius? A dog who outranked everyone? A working knowledge of advanced setting on a copy machine?