Abel
Three weeks since that night at the hotel, and I'd learned something important about Millicent Adams: her resolve lasted exactly four days.
Four days of perfect professionalism. Four days of her bringing me coffee without meeting my eyes. Four days of careful distance and formal "Mr. Cielo" this and "Of course, sir" that. Four days of pretending we hadn't spent an entire night f*****g each other senseless.
On day five, I'd called her into my office to review the Patterson contract. Real work, actual business, nothing inappropriate planned. But when she leaned over my desk to point out a clause issue, her scent hit me full force. Vanilla and that barely-there perfume and something that was just Millicent. My control, already worn thin from four days of forced distance, snapped.
I'd
