Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)(13)

Dragos paused. It was highly unusual for people to tell him no, and it was never an experience he appreciated. Cocking his head, he drew his brows together and asked, “Do you realize who I am?”

The woman looked at him, “Should I? Oh … oh, wait. Are you Lord Cuelebre?”

“Yes, I am, and I’m here in private shopping for my wife.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “I expect you to be discreet about my presence here.”

“Sure, of course,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal of the subject. “We’re always discreet.”

Again, he had to pause. He was a jewelry store’s wet dream. Managers bolted out of hiding to fawn over him. They had involved and passionate discussions about clarity and cut, quality grades and light.

This woman’s preoccupied attitude was not normal.

He persisted. “And you’ll lock the door while I’m here?”

“Oh yes, of course.” She stepped around the end of one counter to walk toward the door and lock it. As she did so, she sighed. “What is it you would like to see?”

His short amount of patience was evaporating rapidly.

“I wanted to examine the firebird necklace you have on display,” he told her, his tone short. “Along with the accessory pieces, but is this a bad time?”

“Excuse me?”

For the first time since he had entered the shop, she looked at him directly. He noted the shadows under her eyes. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot. His attention snagged by the small details, he took a step forward and caught a whiff of her scent.

She was not merely preoccupied and unhappy. She was quite distressed.

He sighed. The dragon didn’t care if the woman was having a bad day. All he wanted to do was ignore her, examine the necklace more closely and make a buy decision.

Actually, what he would have liked to do was just steal the damn thing and be done with it, but he had started out in a leisurely, aboveboard fashion, and now the store’s security system would have a record of his presence. And security recordings in jewelry stores were never stored on site, not with so many potential and extremely talented thieves scattered throughout the Elder Races.

In social situations like this, he had taken to asking himself WWPD? (What Would Pia Do?)

They had such different reactions to most things, and she was so much better at interacting and relating to people than he was, that he had learned asking himself WWPD helped avoid unpleasantness from time to time when he was in pursuit of something that he wanted.

The small exercise helped. Often, he wasn’t able to achieve what Pia would actually do, because it was just too foreign to his nature. But more often than not, he was able to approximate something between what she would do and what was his natural inclination to do.

As a result, a rumor had started in his corporation that marriage and mating might be softening him up. Curious and coldly amused, he tracked the rumor down to its source, and the whispers died a quick and decisive death.

He was a contented dragon, not a tame one.

In this instance, if Pia were here, she would ask after the woman’s well-being. He didn’t want to go that far, but perhaps he might talk to a manager and have a normal discussion about jewelry after all.

He said, “You’re clearly not focused on your work. No doubt you have some personal matter that needs your attention. Just get your manager for me, then you can take care of whatever it is you need to take care of.”

The woman burst into tears.

Oh f*ck. He almost threw up his hands and walked out. Only the memory of the firebird’s sparkle anchored him in place.

“I’m s-sorry, there’s no one else here,” she said. “Two other people, including my m-manager, were supposed to show up for work, but they haven’t yet. And I’m so sorry and embarrassed to burst into tears at you like this, Lord Cuelebre.”

He closed his eyes briefly then told her, “Clearly this isn’t the best time for you to be dealing with customers. I’ll leave now and come back when your manager is available.” Pausing, he stared at her. She was busy wringing her hands, while tears streamed down her face. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, “Are you paying attention to anything that I’m saying to you right now?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I a-p-p-pologize, but I’ve had a sleepless night. I was looking for my mother everywhere, and nobody’s around, and nobody showed up for work either, even when I tried to call in and take a sick day, and …”

His short amount of patience snapped.

Staring into her brimming gaze, he said in a quiet, compelling voice, “Stop this meltdown immediately. You’re calming down now. You’re growing quite calm, do you understand? And lucid. You are definitely growing more lucid.”

“But you don’t understand,” she sobbed. “There’s nobody around.”

Hm. Sometimes, when the subject was overwrought like this, it took his beguilement a little while to take effect. Plus, there was always the possibility that she was delusional. It was very difficult to beguile a delusional person until he actually understood what they were delusional about.

“What do you mean, there’s nobody around?” he asked. Beguilement also didn’t work very well when he let his own impatience get in the way and upset people, so he tried to curb the sharpness of his tone. “Of course there are people around. There are cars and people in the street right now. You’re growing calm and lucid now, remember? In fact, you’re feeling so calm, you’re quite capable of using your keys to go get that necklace for me to examine.”