She had told him on a number of occasions not to hatch his egg while still in medical school, but had he listened? No. Sometimes, she really hated being right.
Haris had the decency to look embarrassed as he scooped Motu into his arms. Emmeline looked over at the burnt tablecloth the staff members were replacing.
“Look at Fang!” Emmeline scolded, gesturing to Ginny’s well-behaved baby dragon calmly bobbing his head to the music as he flapped his wings.
Even though Motu and Fang were a month apart—with Motu being older—Fang was much better-trained. While Ginny devoted her time to Fang after graduating from university last May, accelerating Fang’s training until he had his first flight at just seven months, Motu had only had his first flight last month, and was still a bit rough around the edges due to Haris being too busy with medical school.
“Sorry,” Haris said, sheepish. Emmeline gave him a dirty look. She didn’t even need to say anything; the look was enough for her brother to understand how disappointed she was. He winced.
She took Motu from him, and the baby dragon came to her willingly, despite how she had scolded his rider. The little dragon knew their family dynamics.
Taking Motu, she went upstairs, away from the crowded party in the ballroom to a much quieter section of the mansion. As she passed by the living room, Motu touched a paw to her cheek, looking up at her with big purple eyes.
Her heart softened.
“Your rider needs to be more responsible,” she whispered to Motu, smushing his face with her free hand. Motu flapped his wings. She laughed. “Come on.”
She rang for a dragon caretaker to come look after the baby dragon, and a few moments later, one arrived, taking Motu from her. The caretaker left with Motu, and Emmeline was alone. In the quiet, she sighed and, as she turned, she caught sight of herself in a gilded framed mirror.
She was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress with dramatic bell sleeves, the gown floor-length but with a slit going up one thigh to reveal her strappy jeweled heels. While the outfit was still perfectly in place, her hair was coming undone. She pulled the jade hairpin out, and her hair cascaded down, falling to her hips. It was glossy and pitch-black, cut in long layers.
She shook her hair out, meeting her gaze in the reflection. Her kajal was a little smudged and her blood-red lipstick had faded, but she still looked picture-perfect. Rolling her shoulders, she adjusted her elaborate gold nose-ring, her only jewelry, then headed back towards the party.
And that was where she saw him. With deep brown skin and a clean-shaven face that showed off his defined facial features, he was easy to recognize, and heat spread through her as she took in the long, lean shape of his muscular body.
Luke Hayward.
Her enemy.
Emmeline stopped in her tracks before the living room, her heartbeat jumping violently. He was the only one up here, though he hadn’t seemed to notice her just yet. Leaning against the wall, he was entranced with the view from the wide windows, watching the snow fall.
He was dressed in an all-black suit, sans tie, his black dress shirt open at the collar to reveal the chains around his neck. It wasn’t the only jewelry he wore; rings covered almost every finger, and there was an earring looping in one ear. His signature look.
For a moment, Emmeline thought she was hallucinating. She really must have been tired. She took a step forward, looking closer. There was no way he was here.
At the sound of her heels, he turned. His gaze fell upon her. The devilish tilt of his lips sent sparks down her spine, informing her that he was in fact very much real.
“Hayward,” she snapped, stalking over. He lifted off the wall easily, straightening. Emmeline had always been tall, and she was used to being one of the tallest in the room,especially with her high heels, but he was still taller, easily clearing six foot two. Another reason to hate him.
“Sterling,” he said easily, eyes lighting with amusement.
Irritation burst through her as she stood before him. She didn’t understand—what was he doing here? She had sent out the invites; she knew for certain he wasn’t invited. He was not part of any of the Drakkon circles. He was a chimera owner and lived in Bayview, down by the lake. Starshine Valley was divided into hamlets, and everyone tended to stay in their own corner.
Except for him. He was always trying to poach her business. While her coffee was dragon-roasted, his was chimera-roasted. His business, Tempest, rivaled hers. She had started her business straight out of university seven years ago, and he had started his business about two years later, all but stealing her idea, though he applied it to chimeras.
He was a ruthless businessman—successful, gorgeous, heartless.
She knew he was trouble from the first time she had heard about him, when she was a senior in college and Millie was a junior claiming to be in love.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him now.
“Maybe the birthday girl invited me,” Luke replied, running a hand through his long black hair. That made her vision turn red as a fierce feeling of protectiveness came over her.
Bridging the space between them, she poked his chest with a finger.
“Stay away from her,” she snapped. “You’ve already broken one little sister’s heart.”
He cocked his head to the side, regarding her. His dark eyes were like coals, simmering with heat just beneath the surface, and his gaze pierced through her. “You got your revenge for that, if I recall.”
