Page 26 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

"You're the best." He gives my shoulder a quick squeeze as he passes and disappears into his office.

I hang my coat over the back of my chair and look at his closed door.

Nothing about Richard has changed since last week. He still calls me the wrong name. He still hands me things that have nothing to do with my job because he knows I'll handle them. His wife's dietary requirements are somehow my responsibility, along with his lunch reservations, his presentations, his calendar, and whatever else he decides he doesn't want to think about.

The difference is that this week I'm noticing how often it happens.

By lunch, I've counted six things I automatically agreed to before I even considered whether I should. None of them are particularly outrageous on their own, which might be why I've never paid much attention before. It's just easier to say yes, fix the problem, and move on.

Apparently I've built most of my adult life around that principle.

That evening, Bree texts while I'm eating dinner.

hey are you around this weekend?? no reason just miss u

I know my sister well enough to recognize no reason as a warning.

Usually I'd answer immediately, and by the time she told me what she needed, I'd already be figuring out how to provide it. Instead, I put my phone back down and finish eating while my brain supplies increasingly creative possibilities involving overdue bills, her car, or something she forgot to cancel before a free trial ended.

Nothing terrible happens during the twelve minutes it takes me to finish dinner.

Afterward, I pick up my phone and type, miss you too.

I don't answer the question about the weekend.

Bree sends three hearts and a picture of her cat asleep with his face pressed into the couch.

I look at it for a while.

Then I realize I just said no without actually using the word.

By Wednesday, something else has started bothering me.

I've been trying to take better care of myself for years. I've promised myself I'd eat breakfast, go to bed earlier, stop answering work emails at ridiculous hours, and quit agreeing to things just because saying yes is easier than disappointing somebody.

None of it ever lasted.

Soren gives me three rules, and all he has to do is tell me he expects me to follow them.

I'm not sure what that says about me.

Wednesday also means drinks with Tess, who chooses a wine bar with sticky tables, low lighting, and a bartender who starts pouring her usual before we've taken our coats off.

She waits until we have our glasses before leaning across the table. "I want it noted that I've been incredibly restrained about this. Five full days, Margot. I deserve some kind of award."

I know exactly what she means. "It went well."

"That's all I get?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"You went to a mansion to spend two hours with a dragon you met on a BDSM website, then booked another session. I'd like slightly more than it went well."

I take a drink, mostly to give myself something to do. "He was very professional."

Tess stares at me.

"And attentive."