Call of the Dragon: Flight of Dragons Read online

  Call of the Dragon

  Flight of Dragons

  Victoria Pinder

  Love in a Book

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Also by Victoria Pinder

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Call of the Dragon

  Copyright©2017

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Copyright © 2017 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book

  All rights reserved.

  This book is dedicated to Christine. She forced me to read romance novels. She forced me to read Harry Potter. Basically my life choices were all thrown in my face because of my friend and though we are very different, we’ll always be friends.

  1

  "Get me the files, fast, Daphne, or you’ll be working ‘til midnight." My boss, Aura Volos, a dark-haired, sharp-chinned woman behind a cluttered desk, didn’t bother to look up as she spoke. She also ignored the view from her large office window overlooking the Florence piazza and the tendrils of pink sky in the autumn afternoon.

  My stomach growled as I rose from my side-desk near the door and slipped my sensible black heels on my feet. I’d not get fired from my first job, ever. “I worked through lunch already trying to find them.”

  “Look harder then.”

  Just great. Find the files that she lost. Technically I don't know if Aura can fire me or not as her mother hired me, but I'd rather not find out. I stampeded out of the third floor corner office into the sunless hallway, then went into the adjoining office where we kept a few file cabinets.

  I let out a sigh the second I closed the door and stared out at the remnants of the sunset in Florence that existed past the filing cabinets. I thought I saw a flash of light in the distance. It must be a firework someone set off somewhere.

  So far, I hadn’t gotten to see one thing of interest in Tuscany. I don't think a business trip with the boss lady should count as the reason for my first stamp on my passport. One day, I'd go somewhere on my own and do something, like take a photo of myself in Piazzale Michaelango or Uffizi Gallery to see originals of DaVinci. Right now though, the file. I rushed through the paperwork in the cabinets and didn't see anything on the Valencia Villa acquisition. I slipped out of the office and turned off the lights.

  Goosebumps grew on my arms as I continued through the office hall to the storage room. I had a crazy thought, It was like something was close that mattered. As I flipped on the overhead light, I hoped Ms. Volos's lost files were in the folder labeled appropriately. I’d filed them last night, right here, and then I thought I’d delivered them to her desk. There! I found the manila file.

  I smiled as I read about the small Italian villa she wanted to transform into a boutique hotel. All the work we had done in the past two weeks wasn’t lost, which meant that Aura had no reason to tell her mother I was slacking.

  Last night I’d been tired and must have picked up the wrong folders. My job was secure, for now. I straightened the papers and fit everything into the neat folder and then returned to the corner office.

  Aura Volos's light blue eyes gazed at me for less than ten seconds as she gathered her dark brown hair into a messy ponytail and continued reading whatever paper was on her desk. "Do you have the account?"

  "Yes, ma'am." I gingerly took a step forward and slipped them on her desk. "Is that all?"

  Aura took the files and checked them to ensure I gave her what she wanted. She placed the folder next to her so I assumed the information was correct. "How is it that I brought you to Italy and you are still in the same ill-fitting black slacks you’ve been wearing for four days in a row, girl?"

  I'm two years younger than her, so I'm not a girl. My face heated and I looked at my pants. While I’d never gone hungry, Grandma and I hadn’t Aura’s luxuries.. I’d bought three pairs of work pants and five blouses from a thrift shop for my job, which was all I could afford. "These are all I own."

  "Fine. You’ve worked through lunch. Take the evening off and go get some new clothes. Whatever you spend from my account will be deducted from your paycheck. I'll see you at the hotel tomorrow morning for breakfast."

  My hands fell to my side though my fingers itched to clutch my stomach and hold it tight. I’d accepted this job as her personal assistant a little more than two weeks ago and this was my first evening free. My aunt, who worked as the Volos’ housekeeper for the past twenty-five years, had found me this position. She’d told me while here, not to expect time off, but to save every penny I could and to learn business from Aura. I had no idea what to say so I stood there and stared at her.

  "You can go. I'll be fine here."

  Aura's mother had hired me as an assistant on this Italian trip, though for a woman in her late twenties Aura seemed worldly and totally perfect in everything she did. One day I'd like to run something nearly as well as Aura ran the hotel chain that her parents owned.

  "Are you turning deaf or something?"

  The soles of my shoes squeaked on the marble floor as I headed for the door and grabbed my thrift-store leather jacket from the closet. "I'll see you in the morning, Ms. Volos."

  My heart pounded in my chest as I rode the elevator down to the ground floor of the office building and went outside.

  Goosebumps returned on my arms again. The air crackled with electricity and I could pick up the different scents of garlic from the trattoria where no one spoke English.

  The street led to the piazza where I might see the David sculpture, if I ever had the time. So different from my small hometown where people spoke about alligators or mud races. Here the brick walls that I grazed with my fingertips were old and likely held secrets of the Medici family. I knew about them because I’d seen a televised historic drama.

  No one needed me. I was free. I had to go and do something. I never thought I'd leave Florida, and now here I was, in Florence. The cobblestone cut into my soles, but I didn't care.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw white marble with red striations in the rectangles that made Giotto's tower a work of art in and of itself. As a child, I’d watched the Hunchback of Notre Dame movie with my parents before they’d died. The guidebook for Florence read that unlike the fictional Parisian setting, th
is bell tower had a real version of the gothic romance.

  A light wind ruffled my hair and face. I pushed a piece behind my ear but it fell forward. One day I'd get a decent hair-cut.

  My skin felt like I was on pins and needles.

  As I stepped off the sidewalk and onto the street, a car honked. Heart beating fast, I jumped out of the way as the car then swerved to avoid me. Realizing that traffic didn’t slow for pedestrians to cross seemed dangerous, but I dashed safely to the other side.

  The bells from the tower rang and I glanced up toward the sky. My grandmother had this tower on her dream list of places to visit. My mother and father had also come here, before they’d died. Memories of long ago flooded my brain, but I had to release the past. Keep my job. Not worry about what might happen next.

  The sign at the booth said there were over 400 steps. No one else was in line when I bought my ticket, so I went directly into the Church tower. I always dreamed I could fly so I had to get to the top and gaze at the night sky here.

  I blinked to bring the dark hall into focus as my teeth chattered. Stone and marble held no heat. Pressing my lips together, I easily climbed the first hundred steps.

  I passed a painting of a man on a ship with two animals of various kinds in the artwork and realized most of the stuff on the walls was related to Bible stories. This one was Noah’s ark. I supposed I should pay more reverence to the art. On my way down, I’d take my time. A few paintings caught my eye as strange with knights and swords that reminded me more of King Arthur than normal church art. This was a holy place at the bottom—I headed up toward the bells.

  On the next level the marble walls changed in style and everything was more blue. I quickly glanced at the sun and moon paintings and realized someone had drawn all the planets in the solar system.

  I kept climbing, anxious to watch the sun set over the ancient city of Florence. Coldness inched into my lungs and made it hard to breathe. Once dark, it would be impossible to stay long in my thin coat. Hardly out of breath, I picked up my pace and made it to another level, taking note of several statues of bearded men. One reminded me of Abraham, but I’d look closer later.

  As I made it to the top, icy air gripped my lungs, but I pushed myself and went onto the bell tower itself. A gust of wind lifted my hair, making it stand on end as energy pulsed around me. I stepped as close to the edge as I could get behind the safety net. Then I stared down at the city, which seemed so small but familiar. It was the scene in my dreams, where I could fly.

  The terraced homes on the other bank of the river and the piazzas were all woven together, like magic, though I knew it was simply history. This place was gorgeous, but foreboding pinched the back of my neck, as if I’d missed something in my haste.

  I turned around and noticed that the wires ensuring our safety were cut. My gaze continued to a black leather boot, a black pant leg that led up to cover a well-formed backside of a man, and the black leather of his jacket. He placed his foot out. Was he trying to jump?

  The foreboding inside me emanated from a man about to commit suicide. My heart hammered in my chest as I called out, "Wait. Stop."

  He turned from the ledge—well past the safety nets of the rooftop and his vivid blue eyes were the most royal I’d ever seen. I knew now why that color had that name. Mesmerizing. My palms grew moist, and I had a sudden desire to hold this stranger close. My body felt full of warm air and sunshine as I stared at him. He shook his brown hair as he stepped away from the ledge. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

  His questions scolded and I lowered my gaze. "I'm Daphne Garlin."

  He scoffed without introducing himself as he zipped his jacket. "I came up here for the view."

  Seriously? The view? No one went out that far. "You looked like you were going to jump."

  "I wanted to see from the edge." He broke eye contact with me as he glanced around the roof of the bell tower near me. "Are you alone?"

  “Yes.” I trembled in my old jacket. He was so gorgeous, as if he’d been created just for me to gaze at. Something inside told me our souls were connected, like I knew him. "Who are you?"

  His shoulders stiffened. "You don’t know me?"

  My skin prickled with a heated blush. I stared at the stones in the floor as I shook my head. An image of a dragon formed in my mind but that was clearly my imagination. In a quiet voice I asked, "Should I?"

  He didn't say anything at first. My body trembled but I dared a glance at him. His handsome face grew a smile. “No, there is no reason you should. I'm Robert De Marco."

  The horror writer? I brought my hand to my mouth and then dropped it back to my side. He was probably plotting a new story up here and I’d interrupted him. My throat was parched. I’d seen his name in grocery stores and at the bookstore. Most people probably knew popular writers and what they looked like. They would use the Internet. I rarely did. Until a few weeks ago, I’d never even had a job, so I was clearly out of touch with the world.

  I shuffled my feet, tension pulsating in my skin, until I focused on the cleft in his chin. His raw power left me breathless but I overcame my nerves. "Of course, I know your name. You write novels about creatures of the night. I especially like the dragon covers."

  His lips twisted into a sneer, and I still thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. "Hollywood seems to take every novel and mess up a movie adaption of them, but I make a lot of money every time they try."

  Money would be nice. I slipped my hands into my pockets as I turned my shoulder away from him. He might not like my opinion. "I wouldn't know. I don't watch or read horror."

  A thousand kilowatt smile transformed his expression. If I thought his sneer sexy, his smile was a million times sexier. "Don't start on my account. Would you like to grab dinner with me?"

  I couldn't quite believe what I’d heard. Seriously? I hadn’t dated before, ever. The hottest guy I’d ever met, who clearly wore designer labels, and me? Until recently, my grandmother cut my hair. "You want to eat with me?"

  His gaze honed in on my lips and I felt fire all over my body. No one had ever looked at me like I was a main course. "Yes, why not? Don’t you eat?"

  How would I ever swallow a bite of soup around him, never mind an entire meal? I clasped my fingers on the buckles of my jacket to stop from touching him. There was something magnetic and powerful that drew me to him. I couldn’t explain it. I dropped my hands to my sides as I took a step closer to him. "Near you, I might not."

  He didn't move, but he stood taller as he asked, "Why not?"

  Closer to him was a bad idea. Every cell in my body was alive with desire as I said, "It doesn’t matter, never mind."

  His face lowered as he stared at me. "What?"

  My fingers unclasped from the buckles. A hint of forest, his scent. "I think I need you to get away from the ledge. I don’t want you to fall."

  "You can try to save me if I do." He stepped away from the bars and the hole that might lead straight to his death. Tension inside me released as he came toward me. "I'd love your company at dinner, Daphne." He offered the crook of his elbow.

  I reached up and gripped his arm. I felt like the women in those old movies my grandmother watched. "Okay, Robert, and thank you."

  As we walked toward the first part of the tower where I had spotted him, he leaned closer. He smelled liked walnuts and trees and there was a fire that rampaged through me, so different than any previous experience I’d had with guys.

  "For what?"

  He didn't understand me—how could he? With only my grandmother for company, I wasn’t used to conversation. And I wasn't used to sharing much of my life. I stared at my un-manicured fingertips as I explained, "For being nice. Most people don't notice me at all."

  "Daphne, I find that hard to believe. Did you grow up under a rock?"

  "Practically."

  “I want to find out everything about you over dinner.”

  Did he find me attractive? What happened when he realized
I was boring? I don’t know if I’ll ever be the woman I want to be, a woman who is interesting and does amazing things to protect her family and people in trouble. “I can try to eat.”

  “I can’t wait to hear your backstory.”

  Backstory? No. My life was my story, but I decided that dinner would be okay. At least with Robert, I wouldn’t have to eat alone. I was with someone extraordinary who lived a full life. One day, I would direct my life too.

  As we descended the stairs together, huge heavy bells rang and vibrated through me with a cold heaviness that settled onto my shoulders. I chose to ignore the sound. Next to Robert, I felt like a different person and I didn't want this to end.

  2

  As the moon rounded in the sky, I swore storm clouds gathered in Robert's blue eyes. My plain-Jane brown eyes were boring in comparison. We sat inside at the Del Fagioli Ristorante that overlooked the Ponte alle Grazie, across the river. If it was a summer night instead of autumn, we might have braved the outside seats. The comfort of his hand in mine made it seem like I was born to touch him.

  I leaned my elbow on the table and wondered if this would count as a date—my first. Robert probably had a different beautiful woman join him every night.

  At my grandma's house, I studied virtual school until high school, and once finished I stayed close to take care of Grandma until she died. I was never allowed to go out unsupervised—she’d been my only companion, and there weren’t boys around.

  As the food was delivered I briefly closed my eyes and took in the aroma of tomatoes and olive oil. "Are most of your nights filled with dim lights, wine and romance?”