Pia Does Hollywood (Elder Races, #8.6)

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 fuck. 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.”

Abruptly, she did calm down. Her sobbing stopped as if a switch had been thrown, and her twisting hands loosened.

“There aren’t any people in my neighborhood,” she whispered. “My mom lives on the next block. She’s gone too. We always have breakfast together, but she wasn’t there when I let myself in. When I called the police and told them my mother was missing, they said they would drive by her house to check into it, and get back to me. I haven’t heard from them either.”

Okay. He had tried his hardest not to engage, but that snagged him. He repeated, “There are no people at all in your neighborhood.”

Mutely she shook her head.

Perhaps this was the delusion he needed to understand to make his beguilement effective. Crossing his arms, he frowned. “How do you know this?”

“Because I live there!” the woman cried. “I know!”

Abruptly, he decided he’d had more than enough of talking to her. He snapped, “What’s your address?”

Jumping at the sharp command in his voice, she blurted out an address.

He held out one hand. “Give me the keys.”

The woman hesitated, then started shaking her head. “I-I don’t think I c-can do tha—”

Oh for the love of all the gods. Injecting all his strength into his voice, he told her, “Shut up and give me the goddamn keys.”

Her hand jerked out, offering the set to him. Taking the ring, he rifled through them until he found the right key to unlock the display case. Scooping up the firebird necklace, a matching bracelet and dangling earrings, he gave them a brief, very thorough look.

The workmanship was top-notch. He was looking forward to examining the pieces in greater depth, but for now, he shoved the jewelry into the front pocket of his jeans. He told the woman, “Tell your boss to bill me.”