Her face was peaceful in unconsciousness. The round cheeks, the full lips, the dark eyelashes resting on her skin. Her body was a study in abundance — wide hips, thick thighs, a soft belly visible where the dress had ridden up. Her breasts were the kind that would spill over both hands. The kind that fed children. The kind that a man could suffocate in.
I felt my cock twitch.
Helena appeared beside me. "Her name is Rosalind. She handles the herb supply chain for the Pill Tower. Accountancy, inventory management, supplier negotiations."
"She's literate," I said. Not a question.
"Fluent in three languages. Self-taught in alchemical notation." Helena's voice carried respect. "She's one of the most educated commoners in Millbrook. Focused entirely on her career. Refused every courtship offer. She's been climbing the administrative ranks through sheer competence."
