A dark-haired woman with old eyes and young cleavage finally leaned her bosom toward him. "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think I caught your position in the Sol business affairs." Consort. Mica could have easily named him her personal guard. Her secretary. Even her research assistant. Well, two could play. He bowed his head slightly, happy to oblige. "I see to the sexual needs of Mica Sol, firstborn and heir to the Sol corp.
-Erin Kellison
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