The two men froze. They stared at Pia, with her disheveled blonde hair and furious face, pink thigh-length robe and delicate contoured legs down to the red-tipped polished toes. Then they looked at Dragos, in his black silk pajama pants, bare chest and blonde braid of hair on one dark wrist.
Dragos stalked after her as she stormed into the bathroom. She slammed the door. He put his hands on his hips and raised his voice as he told her through the panel, “We’re not through discussing this.”
The bathroom door yanked open. She snapped, “And my mother is none of your business!” She slammed the door again.
Dragos turned to look at the two men. Graydon, the brawniest of the gryphons, had begun shaking his head and backing out of the room. Rune just stared.
Dragos said, “What.”
“Who are you,” Rune said, “and what have you done with Dragos?”
He gave them his machete smile. “I had no idea this could be so much fun.”
Rune said, “We just thought you’d be ready to get on with your day. There’s a backlog of issues waiting for your attention.”
Graydon said, “We’ll go now and come back much, much later.”
“No, don’t bother.” He strode over to the serving cart and started inspecting the contents under the silver covers. One hid oatmeal with walnuts and apples. He covered it back up. The other had a pound of fried bacon and a half-dozen scrambled eggs. He picked up the plate and a fork.
He told Graydon, “Make us a pot of coffee.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “Please.”
Graydon turned his head to the side and widened his eyes at Rune while he said, “Yes, my lord.”
Dragos settled on one couch, grabbed the remote and turned on CNN. He ate breakfast in quick, efficient bites. Rune sprawled on another couch. Graydon brought three cups of coffee from the wet bar.
Eyes on the morning headlines, Dragos said, “No more barging in.”
“Never again,” Graydon said. The gryphon had a fervent note in his voice. “We’ll pass the word.”
“The breakfast faerie has no doubt already done that,” Dragos remarked around a mouthful of bacon. “You two clowns just missed the memo.”
“The breakfast faerie.” Rune pinched his nose and coughed. Amused gold eyes met his, then turned back to the running ticker tape on the plasma flat-screen.
“What things need to be addressed?”
He finished his meal as he listened. They ran down a list of things, a variety of domestic, administrative, business and military issues. He responded with his customary decisiveness. The two gryphons started relaying his orders telepathically to the appropriate people.
The bathroom door opened and the scent of Chanel wafted across the room. The men fell silent. Pia walked out wearing her short pink robe. She entered the dressing room and shut the door.
Dragos scowled. “Get a personal shopper for Pia. Make sure a longer robe is on the list.”
“Right.” Graydon looked like he was being tortured.
“Are the contractors done repairing the other bedroom?”
“Almost,” Rune said. “There was some structural damage when you, uh, punched the wall. They’re working hard to be as quiet as possible. Since it’s on the other side of the building, the noise shouldn’t be too bad. They already know they may have to stop at times, and they’re prepared to work around your schedule if necessary.”
He looked out the windows and rubbed his chin. “When they’re through, have them put up a balcony wall. Tell them to go halfway around the building and put gated fences on each end. That’ll still leave plenty of open ledge.”
Pia emerged wearing low-rider jeans and a tight blue long-sleeved jersey shirt that bared her midriff. She carried a cloth zippered bag under one arm. She paused, looking from the three men to the food cart and the unmade bed, her expression uncertain. She looked much calmer.
Dragos unfolded from the couch and walked toward the cart. “Come eat your breakfast with us,” he said. He put his empty plate on the cart and retrieved her bowl of oatmeal and a spoon. “Would you like some coffee?”
She nodded, trailing behind him to the couches. Graydon started to his feet.
Dragos put her oatmeal and spoon on an end table by the couch where he was sitting. “I’ll get you a cup,” he told her. Graydon paused halfway out of his seat.
She gave Dragos a wary scowl. “Are you sucking up?”
“Of course.” He bent to give her a swift kiss. Dusky color touched her cheeks. He touched one high, delicate cheekbone.
She glanced sidelong at the two other men. They were dressed in jeans and T-shirts. Leather jackets were thrown over the back of the couch, and each man wore a shoulder holster and gun. She suspected they both had several other hidden weapons.