Mal listened to a recording of the news he’d missed when he slept through the 3 AM transmission.

“Onyx Corporation rank plummeted today when it was announced their port privileges were donated. In related news, the matriarch of the Onyx family attacked her male escort on a pleasure cruise after it was revealed that he did not wish to become her mate. The male was rescued from a life support pod outside the Nebulus Cluster with all his limbs intact.”

It didn’t happen. His brain refused.

Yes, his mother had always liked their uncle, but not as a mate. Right?

Exactly how long had Mal been away from the family estate? And why hadn’t their uncle warned them about the risks when Alex arranged for him to take their mother on the cruise?

Maybe she’d gotten too deep into the aphrodisiac wine and lost her mind.

But knowing how she’d been publicly humiliated—on top of discovering their lies—didn’t undo the consequences.

While Mal had been sleeping in Cheryl’s soft arms, his mother had called a meeting to dismantle the company and summon them home, effective immediately. Only the promise that Mal wasn’t there to hear her decree was because he was actively making dragonlets caused her to relent. She wanted to meet Cheryl, of course. As soon as she returned from the nebula, Mal would take Cheryl to visit.

But it was already too late. His mother had permanently discarded their family port privileges. There was no way to reverse her impulsive decision. The only choice was to go forward.

Mal scratched meaningless lines on his yellow legal notepad, racking his brain for options to keep the company alive.

His mother could put their name on a wait list for the next donated port privilege. Maybe his great great grandchildren would be living when the opportunity arose.

The other option was to partner with an aristocrat who had port privileges. Marry an aristocratic female.

Or marry the Empress.

Mal would lose control. The company would be disbanded. The aristocrats would win.

His pen cracked. Ink leaked onto his fingers and stained them black.

He had no time for these thoughts. The future of the company would wait. Right now, only one thing mattered.

Launching the final product.

Since his mother’s actions caused their stock to plummet, they had to push even harder to get their rank anywhere near the top one hundred, to say nothing of the top one.

It was just… it was just...

Not impossible. He gritted his teeth. It was going to be hard. Good thing he had already gotten most of a night’s sleep.

He wiped his fingers on a tissue and hit the button to play it again.

A knock sounded on his door.

He paused the recording. His siblings knew not to disturb him during his emergency thinking time.

Mal shouted, “Darcy? In!”

As he had predicted, the human pushed open the door and entered. “I heard you’ve got to act fast on this launch or it’s curtains for everyone.”

Mal didn’t know about draperies, but the essence of the statement was true.

“Let’s talk strategy.” Darcy strode to the conference table and folded his tall form into his customary seat. “Have you decided on lingerie?”

Mal crossed the office with a snarl. “It’s impractical.”

“It’s sexy.” He grinned. “Think of your blushing bride. Don’t you want to see her in lingerie?”

That was something Mal hadn’t considered. Cheryl clothed in lace and ribbons, blushing shyly on the bed, waiting for him to pounce? His cock declared its readiness for that with a hot pulse.

“I prefer to rip it off her and see her naked,” he said.

“There’s nothing wrong with naked.” Darcy held up his palms in surrender. His devilish smile gleamed. “But isn’t getting there the fun part?”

There were many fun parts. Getting naked was only one of them.

“And dragon females would love to feel sexy for their males, right?” Darcy pushed.

“No.” Mal stalked to the conference table and collapsed in the lead chair with a thump. He’d thought long and hard. “This will never work.”

Jasper and Alex noticed his open door and took their seats at the conference table.

Mal laid out the issues. “Dragon females do not blush. They select their males and act decisively to secure them. If the male is unable to mate, he must flee or risk losing his limbs.”

“Harsh.” Darcy continued to grin blithely, unconcerned about this very real issue. “So if a dragon male wishes to secure his female, how does he let her know?”

Mal looked at Alex and Jasper.

They seemed edgy and did not meet his gaze.

Well, it was a difficult question. Pyro would be able to answer. None of the rest of them had much experience with dragon females.

“I would hang out in the area,” Mal declared. “Remain in the proximity so when the female reached her peak of lust, I could position myself to be the recipient of her hormone spray.”

“Sounds sexy.” He rested his chin on his fist. “Or you could give her lingerie. As a token of your interest.”

The idea was not without merit. If a female must wait for a male to gift her with lingerie, Mal’s family would still have their port privileges and his mother would still be on a cruise with their uncle. They could save everyone grief (and body parts).

However, it was still impossible. “We do not have time to start a tradition. If we must train our customers why they want our products, we’ve already lost.”

He looked to Alex and Jasper for agreement.

They both avoided his gaze.

“Right?” he pushed.

Darcy answered him. “Okay, do you have any better ideas?”

They all remained silent.

Mal pinched his brow. He’d been so busy last night tending to Cheryl that he hadn’t continued his research. “No.”

“You should see a few lingerie models before you decide.”

“Models are Pyro’s business.”

“I meant female dragon lingerie models.” Darcy leaned back in his seat. “I had some favorite outfits brought over. Where’s Amber?”

“In the warehouse.” Jasper rose hurriedly. “I’ll request her presence.”

“I’ll get the outfits.” Darcy left Mal’s office.

Jasper glanced at Alex and backed out of the office as though escaping.

Alex shifted.

Mal released his brow and stood. “Do we know where Pyro is?”

“Thailand, in prison. We negotiated his release, but he says he prefers to spend his last days there. He finds it restful. Shall Kyan go recall him?”

“He can brainstorm in the prison. Where’s Cheryl?”

Alex examined his smooth fingernails. “In the warehouse.”

“With Amber?” Hmm. Amber had requested to see Cheryl personally. Mal had assumed Amber wished to confirm her well-being, but now it seemed like something more. His hackles rose. “What are they doing?”

“Talking.” He cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on his knee. “I believe.”

Amber wasn’t much of a talker, and neither was Cheryl.

Why was Alex acting so strangely? He was smooth and sophisticated. His exotic coloration intrigued humans and charmed dragons. He never fidgeted.

“Talking about what?” Mal asked.

Alex sucked in a breath and cringed. “About—”

“Mal.” Kyan’s soft, commanding voice issued from the intercom in the center of the conference table.

Alex froze.

Mal dove to answer. Kyan only called for a few reasons. Most of them were deadly. Mal depressed the response key. “What?”

“There’s someone odd waiting in our building lobby.”

“Odd how?”

“He wouldn’t give his name to Jeanine even after she threatened for me to throw him out of the building. I recognized him, but I don’t think he’s seen me yet.”

What the hell? Kyan’s tone implied it was the last person they’d expect. Their mother was still in the Outer Rim. Their siblings were all accounted for. Their father was dead.

“Who is it?” Mal demanded.

“The CEO of our rivals,” Kyan said. His last-person-anyone-would-expect assessment was accurate. “Sard Carnelian.”