Fired by my Grumpy Dragon (Grumpy Monster Bosses #3)

THIRTY

Loren

Kivrayn lurks in the doorway of my hotel room while I try to decide what to pack. Finally becoming too irritated to keep it in a moment longer, I turn. “You know, it would be helpful if you would actually tell me what we’re doing here. A few days ago you couldn’t wait for me to fly back to the States, and now you’re breathing down my neck.”

He grunts. “Just pack up everything and bring it with you. It’s not hard.”

I glare at him. “Why? Why have you suddenly changed your mind?”

There’s a tiny tic in his jaw which I would miss save for the fact that I’ve been quietly cataloging every type of facial spasm and frown of his for the last couple months.

I narrow my eyes. “What? What is it?”

“Nothing. I concede your point. It would be convenient for us to continue to fuck while we are both in London. For whatever reason, we seem to be compatible in that regard. And, for convenience, it is simpler to have you at my fingertips whenever I want you, which is frequently. So pack your things and let’s go.”

OK, my pussy should not be growing rapidly moister at those hostile compliments, but it is. I ignore it in favor of gloating. “You concede my point? You mean I was right, and you were wrong? I’m sorry, did you have a personality transplant?”

“Haha. Very funny. Enjoy it while it lasts. You won’t have this opportunity again any time soon. Now get your things.”

I end up packing everything while Kivrayn waits impatiently. I don’t actually check out of the hotel. I’m not convinced this doesn’t end in a bitter argument at two in the morning, and I could use somewhere to retreat to if he pisses me off too much, but still. It feels exciting to hand him the bag to put into the trunk of the cab and head back to the Kensington Grand.

The guy behind the reception desk gives us a cordial smile as we walk back in, bags in tow. He doesn’t even bat an eye at Kivrayn moving someone else into his suite mid-stay. “Would you like me to book you somewhere for dinner, Mr. Firestarter?”

Kivrayn slows and looks at me. “What would you like?”

I almost fall over my feet in surprise. “You’re asking me?”

He gives me a look and then speaks to the clerk. “Yes, if you know somewhere nearby—”

“Korean,” I say impulsively. “Is there somewhere close?”

The guy types something into his computer and nods. “Yes. There’s a place with a decent rating a few blocks over. Shall I make the booking, sir?”

Kivrayn nods. “Thank you.”

When we arrive at the Korean restaurant, the waitress takes us to our table and lights the tiny gas element that will heat the grill where we cook our own food at the table. I have fond memories of going for BBQ or hotpot as a kid with my parents. Some of the few times we ever ate out as a family, which automatically felt fancy to me. Of course, there’s nothing particularly fancy about a BBQ restaurant, but my memories make it a favorite of mine.

Kivrayn sniffs as the waitress leaves to get our drinks. “We’re going to cook our own food?”

“Yes.”

“With this pathetic flame?”

I laugh. “Are you insulted? Is yours bigger?” I try to remember the actual flame he expelled during our last argument at the Brazilian place two nights ago. It was pretty impressive.

He folds his arms over his chest with a haughty look. “You know it is.”

I smirk. “I think I need to see again. I’m not convinced.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are we still talking about my fire?”

“Maybe.”

He pokes at the banchan with his chopsticks when the waitress brings the little dishes out. “Where’s the meat?”

“It’s coming. I’m guessing you’ve never eaten Korean food before.”

“Correct.” Dubiously, he picks up a little kimchi and nibbles it tentatively. His eyes widen. “This is delicious!”

I laugh. “Now you’re getting the hang of it. Koreans eat that with everything.”

By the time the waitress brings the meat, Kivrayn has polished off all the kimchi and she brings us more.

He seems dissatisfied with the speed of the BBQ and leans forward, bracing himself on an elbow. A sliver of orange flame licks out to tease the pork belly, searing the rind and fat beautifully and filling the air instantly with the rich smell. Then he lifts it straight from the BBQ and eats it in one bite while I’m still blowing on mine, trying to cool it down.

“This was a good pick.”

God, two times in one day. He might have actually had an aneurysm. “Really, are you OK? You’re being so nice.”

He frowns. “You don’t like when I’m nice? Why did you spend so much time complaining if you didn’t want me to get the message that I need to change?”

My mouth drops open. “I—I never thought it would actually work.”

He’s quiet for a while. He carefully cooks another few morsels for me and places them on my plate, then does the same for himself. I’m stunned at this thoughtful guy who has apparently snatched Kivrayn’s body. Has this guy been lurking here all along?

Eventually, he says, “Speaking with Jenny’s children made me reflect on how much being stubborn can cost.”

I nod. “True. I guess I’m not the world’s most flexible person either, if I’m honest. I like to think I’m not as bad as them, but maybe I can be.” Of course, this makes me think about my parents. I squash down the sick feeling of guilt like I always do, but it hangs on better than usual.

Kivrayn grunts. “You would not be the only one. In fact, I highly doubt you could be more stubborn than me.”

Something makes the snort of laughter die on my lips. Maybe it’s the vulnerable expression on his face or the way he’s actually being honest. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. ”

There’s a slight quirk of his brow and a little lift at the corner of his mouth. “You first.”

Shaking my head, I push aside my plate and clasp my hands in front of me on the table. I didn’t really think he’d take me up on the offer, but ever since we met with Sarah, the dark thoughts have been creeping in at the edges of my mind, so better out than in, I guess.

At least, I hope.

“I grew up poor.” I pause. If I expected him to be surprised or even curious, I’m disappointed. Nothing shows in his expression. He listens quietly.

I clear my throat. “Very poor. So poor, some weeks we’d get to the end of the week and there would be nothing in the cupboard, and I’d have to scrape together a meal for me and my brother from stale bread and moldy cheese or whatever I could find. My parents were always working.”

He still says nothing. I’m beginning to get nervous. My hands creep to my cup and I run my finger around the lip, desperate for something to take my mind off the way he’s watching me.

“I got a job when I was fourteen. Just helping in the local store. I was still at school, so I’d work afternoons and weekends. Things got worse. For a while there, we were on charity handouts. I never had good shoes. I was always the kid at school with the broken school bag and worn-out sneakers.”

God. Why did I volunteer this information? This makes me sound so pathetic. I can’t even imagine how Kivrayn is taking all this. The guy who probably never had to struggle in his life .

“Anyway, that’s not important really. Can’t change it. I worked hard in school. I got good grades. I paid my way through my studies because my parents couldn’t afford college. I took out a loan and worked nights. It was only when my brother was old enough for college that I found out the truth. You know what stings the most?” I look up, not quite meeting his eye, but not wanting him to see how much this is costing me. “My parents were migrants. They worked hard. I did too. All of us except my brother, who they treated as if the sun shone out his ass. The baby of the family. Well, when it was time for him to go to college, I found out why we never had enough to eat or pay the power bills. My dad had been putting money aside, hadn’t he?” I lift my cup and take a long sip of water just to wash the bitter taste from my mouth.

It doesn’t work.

“Not for me. Oh no. For Toby. That was the day I realized I meant nothing to them.”

There’s a low rumble. It takes me a second to realize where it’s coming from. A drift of black smoke from Kivrayn’s nose gives it away.

“That’s not right!”

“I know. I left home the day I found out and didn’t go back to see them for years. Never talked to them. I cut them off completely.”

“Hmm.” This noise is different from the angry growl. Somehow it’s sympathetic. Even though I’ve just told him I hate my own family.

“And now you regret it? ”

I stare. Not a single thing I’ve said so far would suggest that, but he’s right. Sort of.

I run a hand through my hair. “I’m still angry with my parents. But last year I found out my brother died in a car crash the year before. I hadn’t spoken to him since I moved out. He was just a kid. I half raised him. And I let him die without ever saying to him that I forgave him. It wasn’t his fault they did that to me.”

Kivrayn nods. A warm, clawed hand closes softly over mine. “The regret is terrible, isn’t it?”

The tears make me angry at first. My parents certainly don’t deserve them, and I hate crying in public. But Toby does. And there’s something about this moment between me and Kivrayn that makes me reluctant to pretend to be OK when I’m not.

“I also had a disagreement with my family,” he says quietly.

I look up, but his red eyes are focused on our hands clasped in the middle of the table.

“With my mother.” He sighs. “I was young and selfish, and she was sick. I couldn’t see it at the time, but she had been suffering for a long while. When she told the doctors to stop treatment, I shouted at her. Reasoned and pleaded and demanded and anything I could think of to get her to reconsider. She wouldn’t. I think she was ready. She missed my father too much, and even though she had been hanging onto life for me, she couldn’t do it forever. Not without him.”

“What happened?” I whisper. I know it gets worse from here. The undisguised pain on his face tells me there’s more .

“I walked out. Refused to see her. I thought if I didn’t talk to her, she would relent. Go back on the treatment to make sure things were right with me. I thought I’d outlast her. I probably would have too. She was always too good to me. But in the end, it didn’t matter. She died suddenly in her sleep one night, and it was only then I realized what it had cost me. The chance to say goodbye.” It might be my imagination, but I’m almost certain he has to clear his throat here to hold back his emotion.

“Fuck. Fuck!” My words come out all broken, choked through tears I’m trying to wipe away. “Why did you have to know exactly? Why couldn’t you have kept being an asshole?”

“Oh I am,” The words are muttered against my ear as he draws my chair back and ushers me to my feet. “See? I made you cry and embarrassed you in public.”

I laugh through the tears and follow him out of the restaurant. I hate that he knew. He knew just what to say too.

It’s only when we’re in the cab that I wonder about the bill and my purse. Kivrayn slides it onto my lap just before I can ask. I wipe beneath my eyes already knowing my makeup is smudged and I’m a mess. “I’m sorry,” I tell him lamely. It won’t fix the hurt. That hole is infinite.

“Me too.” Then his arm is around me and I’m tucked against his warm body in a hug I don’t hate at all. I let him direct the driver and take me back to his hotel. I let him lead me to the elevator and into the immaculate room—cleaned while we were out.

But when he undresses me slowly and leads me toward my bed, I throw my arms around his neck. “Fuck me. ”

He lifts me until I can wrap my legs around his waist, then cups my ass to hold me up while I demand heated kisses. I can’t pull my mouth away from his to tell him it’s more than not wanting to sleep alone. It’s more than wanting him to chase away the self-loathing for a moment.

He let me see something soft and hurting in him tonight, just for a moment. And now I want to help him chase that away too.