Dragos Goes to Washington (A Story of the Elder Races)

Oh yay, we get to build a whole new utopian society in our free time? She yawned again.

Potentially, he said, chuckling. A whole new potential utopian society. If worst came to worst.

I’ll be honest, she confessed. I’m too tired to really absorb an idea of this magnitude. I can’t imagine the kind of infrastructure you would need to lay down that would support thousands of people, let alone the training programs you would need to help them acclimate to such a different way of life.

That’s okay. He hooked an arm around her and pulled her back against his side. Because the worst isn’t going to come to worst. Things will smooth over.

She didn’t believe him. Perhaps things might smooth over, but Dragos never relied on blind optimism as a viable course of action. She had no doubt that very trait was one of the reasons why he was still alive, and so successful.

Her heavy eyelids refused to remain open any longer and drifted shut. You’re still going to hire that cadre of civil engineers and consultants, though, aren’t you?

Hell, yes.

They might have only been together for eighteen months, but in some ways, they already knew each other so well. She smiled, and the smooth rhythm of the limo’s engine lulled her to sleep.

When she woke up again, they had arrived back at the Wyr residence and he was carrying her up the magnificent staircase. He had slipped her high heeled shoes off, and they rested on her stomach.

“Shades of Rhett Butler,” she muttered, putting her hand on the shoes to make sure they didn’t slip off and fall to the floor.

“What’s that?” He bent his head toward her. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Mmph. Don’t be sorry.” She yawned again. “I have to get ready for bed anyway.”

He rested his cheek against the top of her head. “I was going to zip you out of your dress.”

Her tired body pulsed at the idea, but overpowering as the mating instinct could be when it held her in its grip, instead of perking up, she felt rather ill. Scratching her thigh, all she could look forward to was shedding the Dior so she could spread some lotion over her itchy skin.

“Much as I would love to,” she mumbled, “I’m too exhausted tonight.”

“I wasn’t suggesting we do anything.” He used her feet to push open the bedroom door and carried her inside. “We both need a good night’s sleep to face tomorrow and the rest of this week.”

He set her gently on the end of the bed, and she braced her body upright with both hands planted on the mattress. “We have all those horrible people coming over here for dinner. Actually, I like several of them individually. It’s just that so many of them don’t like each other, and when they all get together, all these squabbles break out.” She rubbed her forehead as she thought of the Coltons. “Only some of them are just plain horrible.”

“Don’t think about that right now.” He shed his jacket and pulled off his tie with a sigh. “Think about crawling between nice, cool sheets and turning off the light.”

As she was thinking of the Coltons anyway, her mind went to what had happened earlier, and she started to snicker.

“What?” He glanced at her curiously as he stripped off his shirt.

She deepened her voice to mimic him. “I look forward to having you for dinner tomorrow.”

A wicked grin lit his hard face. “The look on their faces was my one pleasure of the evening.”

While he strolled into the bathroom to brush his teeth, she went to sit at the vanity to smooth cleansing cream over her face. As she wiped off the cream and makeup with tissues, her true complexion appeared. She looked dead-fish white, with blotchy areas where she had been rubbing her skin and dark circles under her eyes.

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