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“Ms. Reynolds, thank you for being so punctual,” he said gesturing for her to take the seat across from his desk. He watched her long legs fold themselves demurely as she took a seat, and he considered what they’d look like wrapped around his neck as he buried his face in her pussy. The thought made him uncomfortably hot.
“Please, call me Bre,” she said cordially.
“Bre, what headway have you made on our little project?” Henry asked, testing his name against his lips.
Breanne placed several folders on Henry’s desk. The action forced her to bend over and give Henry a tantalizing view of her cleavage.
“I have worked up a dossier on several single women who I think might be good fits for your overall needs,” she said, her tone all business.
Henry grabbed each folder, barely glancing at the names before throwing them back down on his desk. “What makes you think these women would make me a good wife?” he asked her.
“Well,” she began, “I assessed each woman based on her social standing, her educational background, charity work, and professional career. After you take a look, I thought I would begin doing a more thorough social media dig to see if I uncover anything that might make her a liability.”
Henry felt impressed by her thoroughness though he kept his face impassive.
“Why would I care about any of those things?” he asked her curious to hear her answer.
“I assumed you wanted a wife to help you create a more wholesome image. Marrying someone accomplished and with little scandal would help you achieve that,” she said. “The vetting process needs to be thorough if you want this to work properly,” she reminded him.
Breanne was not incorrect. This arrangement was more business than love, and if circumstances were different, he might give these women serious consideration; however, Henry had a particular target in mind.
“Can I ask you a question,” she asked. Harry was surprised. He considered denying her, Henry did not enjoy being put on the spot, but he was curious as to where she would be going with all of this.
“Proceed,” he said.
“Is finding a wife this way something you want?” she asked.
Henry chuckled. “Oh, you are very American,” he told her. Her nose scrunched up at his assessment. Henry could see that his comment offended her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Arranged marriages are par for the course in my world,” he said casually. “We like to pretend otherwise, but the right spouse is important in my world and for my family.”
Breanne remained contemplatively quiet. Henry could practically see her mulling over the words in her head.
“So that is what marriage is? Some social advantage?” Breanne questioned.
Henry nodded in affirmation. “If one is lucky, it will be a friendly social contract, but all the same, love plays very little into it.”
“And that’s okay with you? A life without love or spousal affection?”
“There are more important things in life,” Henry stated. Her dark green eyes bored into his, and for a second, he contemplated giving her the answer she wanted, that love did ultimately matter, but something kept him from agreeing. Perhaps, it was that Henry never knew love, so there was nothing to miss. Sure, his parents loved him, as did his sister, but they loved him in a way that came with strings. As heir, their prosperity and the prosperity of their family banked on his love for them.
Bre and Henry waited a moment in uncomfortable silence before they continued onward. “Well, if you are comfortable moving forward perhaps we should begin with setting up inquiries with these women?” she said, her voice raising to make her statement a question.
Henry chuckled “I might not care about love, but I’m not certain I want to spend my life being bored to deather either.”
“And these women are boring?” Bre questioned, confused.
“Let’s see,” Henry said, pretending to contemplate the files. “Deborah Hamlin, I’ve slept with her, and it was some of the most boring sex known to man.” Bre’s cheeks heated up at his crude tone. “Penelope Dawson is a twit. I know branches that can hold better conversations,” he told her smugly.
“And Lyanne Campbell?” Breanne questioned figuring one of the ladies would have to be acceptable to him; after all, they all came from his mother’s extensive list of candidates, which meant the Duchess pre-vetted them.
“Lyanne Campbell is a lesbian,” Henry told her matter-of-factly.
“What!” Breanne screeched, grabbing Lyanne’s file from Henry’s desk. “There is no way. She was number five on your mother’s list, previously had a stock-broker boyfriend, and was educated at Cambridge in Economics!”
“And none of that negates that she also is sexually attracted to women,” Henry stated. “Look, Bre, when I said that my mother’s list would not work, I meant it. She knows less about these women than I do. She chose them based on the same sort of credentials you used, but these girls all know how to hide their dirty deeds.”
