I say none of these things.
“I need an assistant,” I say instead, keeping my voice neutral. “And you need employment that will allow you to reclaim your bracelet and get out of your financial troubles. It’s a practical solution.”
“Practical,” she repeats, and she sounds disappointed. But then her pragmatic nature seems to engage, exactly as I knew it would. “What’s the pay?”
I name a figure significantly higher than standard retail wages. Her sharp gasp tells me it’s more than she expected. More than she’s ever made before.
“That’s…” She swallows hard. “That’s very generous.”
“The work requires discretion. Attention to detail.” My tail shifts restlessly. “And a certain comfort level with the unusual.”
Her eyes dart to my tail, then quickly back to my face. “I think I can handle unusual.”
The way she says it makes my scales ripple.
Dangerous. This is dangerous. And yet…
“Monday,” I say, perhaps too abruptly. “Eight AM. We’ll begin with basic artifact classification.”
“Monday.” She nods, then seems to remember something. “Oh! I’ll need to give notice at my current job—”
“Two weeks’ notice is standard, I believe?” The words taste bitter. I don’t want to wait two more weeks, now that I’ve decided to have her here. My tail coils tighter at the thought.
“Actually…” A small smile plays on her lips. “I’m pretty sure they’ll let me go immediately. They’re not exactly known for their employee retention.”
“Monday, then.” I force myself to move back, to create distance between us. Her scent is too distracting when she’s this close. “And do wear practical clothing. Some items can be temperamental.”
She glances down at her sundress, and I firmly squash the urge to tell her how the color brings out the blue in her eyes.
“Right. Practical. I can do that.” She takes in a deep breath, as if she’s trying to give herself a pep talk. “Yes. So, Monday. 8 AM. I’ll be here.” And just like that, she leaves before either of us can think better of it.
Her scent lingers, taunting me with promises of what’s to come.
Gods. What have I done?
My tail lashes once, violently enough to rattle a nearby display case of retro games.
“Oh, that went well,” Mrs. Brindlewood’s voice drifts from the storage room. “Though I do hope you’ve thought this through, dear.”
I bare my fangs at the closed door. “I thought you were leaving.”
“And miss this? Never!” She emerges, wings rustling with glee. “Besides, someone needs to help you rearrange the shop before Monday. You’ll want to make sure all the truly dangerous items are properly secured before your new assistant arrives.”
“I am perfectly capable of—”
“And perhaps we should discuss proper workplace behavior? The do’s and don’ts of employing someone you’reclearlyattracted to?”
My hood flares fully, yet she’s hardly threatened by it. “That is not—”
“Darling,” she interrupts with a puff of smoke, “your tail hasn’t stopped moving since she walked in. I haven’t seen you this unsettled since that incident with the talking portrait.”
I force my tail to relax, irritated by how obvious I’ve apparently been. “The situation is purely practical. As I’m sure you overheard, I could use an assistant, and she can use the money. It is a professional arrangement, and a temporary one at most.”
“Of course it is.” Her dragon eyes twinkle like the jewels she probably hoarded in her youth. “That reminds me of how Iprofessionallywatched Frederick polish his armor for hours on end, regaling me with tales of his bravery. Speaking of which, did I ever tell you about the time he—”
“Mrs. Brindlewood.”
“You’re right. I’m sure I’ve told you that one already.” She waves a scaled hand dismissively. “But dear? Perhaps consider that some treasures are worth more than their market value.”
