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It took all of Bre’s self-control not to chuck her discarded purse at his head. Hormones ragging, she took several calming breaths trying to employ every meditation technique in the book so as not to kill her boss and lose her job. ‘You have no one to blame but yourself,’ she thought. She’d spent the last few months cleaning up Henry’s messes, so she knew the games he played with women. She let her guard drop enamored by the handsome, charismatic Duke, but he had his first and only taste of her.
Bre vowed that from now on her only job would be to get Harry as close to matrimony as possible.
Chapter Seven
“What were you thinking,” the Dowager Duchess yelled as she entered her son’s room. After his encounter with Breanne Reynold’s, Henry crawled to his room, relieved an uncomfortable erection in the shower, and then flopped naked into bed. He’d been too tired, too horny, and frankly too drunk to consider his actions.
“What the hell are you doing here, mother?” he asked, covering his naked form with his comforter. Henry’s head felt like it was splitting open. He needed water or more scotch and definitely did not need to discuss anything with his mother.
Priscilla rolled her eyes at her son’s ridiculous behavior. “I cannot believe you’d partake in this behavior, in public no less, after our discussion!” she screamed shrilly.
Genuine confusion crossed Harry’s features. ‘How the hell does my mother know about last night’ he thought to himself. For years his sister and himself suspected his mother had cameras all over the house, but as he grew up and began sneaking in girls, he knew that was bullshit. But now, he questioned if his recent behaviors forced his mother towards the insane.
Priscilla flushed with anger as she took in her son’s confusion. “I’m talking about this,” she said, throwing a magazine on the bed. Grabbing it from the bed, Henry groaned as he took in the contents. “I specifically asked you to stay out of the papers,” she said.
“Mother…” Henry wanted nothing more than to stop her before she began.
“Don’t,” Priscilla said. “Are you aware of the danger you are placing this family in? Do you?” she yelled.
“You’re acting like the Lords are going to lock me up in The Tower and have me beheaded,” he commented, thinking her a bit too dramatic.
“Stop being ridiculous, ” Henry said. He wanted to go back to sleep, but the look on her face made him feel like an arse.
“You need to calm down, mother. It’s a picture of Nathaniel and me at a bloody club, it’s in the middle of the paper, not the front, and it’s hardly the worst situation I’ve been photographed in recently,” Henry told her in an attempt to calm her. He was working on reforming his image, but bloody hell, he wasn’t a monk.
“Henry,” Priscilla pleaded, “Please take this seriously. These magazines paint a picture of who you are, and that picture makes you look like a spoiled, self-centered, prick, and if you continue, the Lord’s will vote you out at the first opportunity.”
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Henry sat up, giving his mother his full attention. “What do you want me to do, mother?”
“Do what I told you. Find a wife. Start a family. Fix your bloody image. If you don’t, come the next election you will lose your seat, your power, and you will have destroyed this family,” Priscilla stated frankly before turning heel and stomping out of Henry’s room.
* * *
Henry felt like ever bigger shit after his mother departed from his rooms. Didn’t stop him from climbing out of bed, into a suit, and back to his office. If the Lord’s wanted him out, he wasn’t going to make it easy on them, despite what his mother appeared to believe.
Her presence reminded Henry of his ultimate goal. And to achieve this, he needed Bre back in his office, which is why he anxiously awaited the appearance of a girl he fingered in his hallway on a seventeenth-century piece of furniture and then left panting in his wake.
Generally, Henry did not find women intimidating, but the rush he experienced in the presence of Breanne Reynolds made him lose all sense of reason. His dick hadn’t led him around this much since he was sixteen and wanted to get into some University deb’s panties. Henry was used to women opening their legs at his command, and Bre not doing as he commanded made his blood boil and move down south, especially now that he’d had a taste.
A knock on his office door signaled Bre’s arrival. “You asked for me?” she questioned as she entered. She wore the same stylish blazer and skirt combination from this morning, and Henry smirked as he took in the fact that she’d lost her tights. ‘Apparently, she can take an order,’ he thought to himself as he eyed her up and down.
“I wanted to see what progress you’ve made on our assignment?”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Bre stated coldly. ‘So she’s not in the mood to play,’ Harry thought taking in her guarded stance and cold tone. He conceded to himself that denying her orgasm so early on in the game may have been harsh, but he needed to establish dominance. He craved it almost as much as he craved her.
“You’ve been here since four o’clock,” he mentioned not missing a beat. He took in the fact that Bre shifted as he alluded to their early morning hallway romp. He wondered if she still felt his fingers against her clit. The idea made him hard.
“I came in because I received a tip regarding your late-night activities,” she said snootily.
“Your angry,” Henry said, stating the obvious.
“I’m busy,” Bre countered. “And I’m tired,” she told him.
He conceded to her point, noticing that dark circles were beginning to make themselves present under her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he questioned concern growing. He’d only knew Bre for a few days, but she looked run down.
“I’m fine, and I have news,” Bre told him reluctantly. He told her his mother noticed his hard work, but in reality, Henry himself took notice of the woman scoured social media for ways to clean up his slightly rough image. She managed to make him appear marginally less of a mess.
