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“He has a weak chin!” I snapped.
“You, Syon, are a horrible snob. What does a chin, or a nose for that matter, have to do with anything? I have not told you this before but, if I did not have direct contact with your servants and did not see the respect your tenants have for you, I would thoroughly dislike you,” she huffed.
This was my secretary. It must be out of some desire to impress her friend that had caused her to behave so oddly the night before.
“Yes, you’d hate me, brat,” I grinned. “Bad politics and all.”
“Ooo, you make me mad! Agreeing with me! Fine, I wouldn’thateyou but I’d think you terribly stuffy and backwards. In fact, you ain’t all bad and your politics are improving… Though perhaps...”
“Manipulating me, Hartwell?”
“I do love when you call me that. But I am educating you, Syon,” she winked at me. Loved when I called her Hartwell? Was she flirting? Perhaps she would… Never. No matter her dynamic, it was a mistake to think about fucking my own secretary. She walked to her desk as if she hadn’t seen how hard I’d become. It happened occasionally. Out of nowhere, a purely innocent word or look would come my way and I would find my cock stiff and straining against my breeches while my swelling knot beat in time with my heart. How she could miss it, I did not know. Perhaps she ignored it but then why? For when it happened her scent flared as well. And I would know. For still I could smell nothing but violets and vanilla when she was near me. Logically, I knew it was my mind playing tricks, but I refused to give up the illusion. Hartwell and that scent were one and the same to me.
