🔞 Mastery Of Attraction

I don’t have many regrets in life. If anything, I enjoy my privacy and the independence it gives me, so to say I regret this moment would also be an absolute lie. You see, at this very moment, I find myself in a sticky situation—one I do not want to get out of. Because I am letting him do what he pleases with me, I am enjoying it more than I ought to. With every thrust and pulse his body gives me, I give back the same. Wanting him to take over me until I am nothing but a mess of nerves and pleas. In all honesty, I hope I can’t get out of bed tomorrow. The further down my throat, he shoves his fingers, the more I ache to not breathe until my climax breaks, and damn, is it my fault for making this man this way…

2 Weeks Ago

It was an ordinary Tuesday; I had finished all my assignments for the day, making sure to write back to each of the unsatisfied ladies or lonely soldiers who sent me hundreds of letters a month. A majority of questions revolve around love & marriage, but sadly, most ask how to enjoy lovemaking or for relationship advice. Some are just in need of a pen pal, especially the soldiers, but almost all send me some type of compensation for a response. Seeing as how I am now widowed with no plans for marriage, this pursuit directly provides me the freedom and power, and most notably, independence. One would typically say it is scandalous to stay single at this time in high society. If I am not married, I am nothing to the polite association, and yet I am content to be a lowly baroness out of the sight of most gentlepersons. Well, besides the crown prince, for he likes any woman with tight corset strings, and he would not fall under the category of gentle. However, being a widow, I can write the most scandalous things to these individuals without fear of my precious virtue being questioned. Because they all know I lost that virtue on my wedding night years ago.

Truthfully, my virtue went out the door the second I came of age, and my father could sell me off to the baron—my late husband. Don’t get me wrong, Ronald was a good man, soft and silly but very dull. He had little to no personality and often didn’t get my jokes. Regardless, he wasn’t a vile age, so I didn’t mind sharing a bed with him. If anything, he was very giving, so when he did die, I was devastated. So miserable, in fact, that I didn’t attend events for a year and closed myself off from the social world. Even if what we had wasn’t love, it was an absolute comfort, and that was what I missed. I missed sharing a bed and a meal, a laugh at the end of a day, and honestly, I missed sex.

As I said, this was an ordinary day with expected letters until I got to the one I had saved for last. Its gold leaf and frills screamed nobility, and the aristocrats rarely write to me so openly. They usually hide it with plain stationery, not this ostentatious thing. I know they write, but under a fake name, thinking I wouldn’t know who they are. But I am not so dense. However, it is fun to pretend not to know these things because as long as I don’t show my claws, neither do they.

All was harmonious until I opened that letter, and I had no idea how much it would change my life…

“Madam, you have a caller at the door,” Janet, my maid, called as she walked into my room, coming to set a small cup of lemon tea down for me to sip on.

“Who is it?” I asked as I slipped my letter opener through the golden paper and was shocked to see two 1,000-pound notes slide out with a letter penned on woven parchment. “Geez, what is this?” I murmured to myself before unfolding the extravagant paper.

“Some man who said he was sent to speak about a job,” Janet explained, looking over the money in surprise before walking back out of the room.

“Send him to the sunroom and set up lunch. I will be down in a moment,” I instructed as I turned the letter over, feeling slightly irritated by the interruption of my day by an unknown caller. But all of those thoughts ceased the second I read the first line of the letter.

No evidence?

He really expects me to get rid of this letter? This would be my only proof if something were to go awry and the king chose to take my head. I rubbed over my neck and leaned back with a groan, anxious about what this endeavor might truly cost if not just my life.

So now the king even thinks I am a whore who he can send to seduce men. I guess that is the price I will have to pay for liberation, yet I wonder if this was the crown prince’s doing. There is no way the king would ever think of me without someone whispering to him these tales of me—for the prince loves to exaggerate.

“Janet, are you there?” I called as I got up, folding the letter and putting it back in the envelope with the money.

“Yes, Madam, and the man is in the sunroom waiting,” she said as she opened the door, looking me over in concern. Her brown eyes and tan skin were always so soft and youthful for such a strong woman of not even forty that you would never know how devious she could truly be when needed or provoked.

“Take this to the safety deposit box at Ronald’s banks, not mine,” I ordered, and she took it, no questions asked. It was better to have that in my husband’s bank safe, and I doubt the king would look there, of all places, if he became upset with me.

I closed my robe and looked in the mirror, feeling wildly inadequate for this job of seduction. I wonder what Archduke Sigmund likes because that will be the deciding factor here. I have black curly hair, much longer than any other noble lady, since I refuse to follow the trends of the new short hairstyles. By all accounts, I have been told I look adorable with my big green eyes and full lips. My body is toned, and younger men still try to call upon me often, even at the age of twenty and eight. It took a long time to learn that confidence is vital to be comfortable because if you are not proud of yourself, who else would be? Even then, I do not think I am the archduke’s type, especially when so many young women are about to debut this summer. Then again, I have not seen him in over a year, and he has never shown any interest in any woman. But therein lies the problem…what does this man like?

I pulled open the bedroom door and walked lazily to the sunroom, trying to figure out how the king could be all right with me or another seducing his soon-to-be son-in-law. He wrote I have to seduce...not bed. I wonder if that would make me lose my head if I went all the way with the archduke. It doesn’t bother me one way or another if he fancies women; I just need to think of a good way to test such a thing.

“Miss, do you need to dress?” the older man shouted as he stood from the chaise, almost falling over from my state of undress.

“Just calm down. It is a robe, not a negligee. Why have you come here unannounced on a Tuesday?” I scoffed as I sat across from him, and his eyes openly gaped at the small part of my exposed ankle. This poor old man must just be dying right now.

“I have a file for you on Archduke Sigmund,” the man managed to choke out, but his eyes did not leave my ankle as he handed me the thin file—poor, poor man.

“The king works fast. I will give him that,” I murmured as I opened the cream-colored envelope to skim over the contents.

6’3, Blond hair, blue eyes, weight 220.

Commander of the three archaic armies

Combat time 13 years

0-7 No losses in battle.

Only son

Parents are alive/estranged.

Anna Sigmund, Chester Sigmund

Only sister: Gretel Sigmund

Recluse, short-tempered, never seen with a woman.

“You are bad at your job. Give me your pen,” I requested, and the man fumbled to get it from his pocket as I reached out to take it, waiting with an outstretched hand. “You did not even put his full name in the file. Claud Nulimar Sigmund is not 6’3. He is 6 foot, but he just looks 6’3. Probably when in his battle armor. Regardless of that, I already knew all these things and more. I do not live under a rock,” I chastised the older grey man, and he ruffled at my critique.

“Madam, you have—” he began, but I cut him off.

“I am not trying to be rude. I just expected a man of your age, employed by the king, to have more information on this mark. Like perhaps his age, which is thirty and one, by the way,” I hummed, “If I am to get close to the Archduke of Sigmund, the oldest family traceable back to three continents, I need to know very specific things,” I declared as I leaned forward to grab a small tea sandwich to eat. He watched me with bitterness, and I get it. He is upset I am telling him how to accomplish his assignment. But he did an abysmal job, and I can’t lose in the eyes of the king because of this man’s foolishness.

“Then what is it you need to know?” he questioned gruffly.

“Here is your pen. Take notes on this,” I ordered as I handed him back the file with the pen, and his face became tight in irritation.

“Find out where he likes to eat when he does go out, ask around his staff what books he likes to read, where does he go when he is not home? What bank does he use, what hair salon, and where does he spend his time when not conquering the battlefield? He is in the capital now. What does he like to do all day?” I teased because this was all simple stuff. “I want to know what he likes. So, for the next few days, I can learn them, or this will be dead before it starts. Life isn’t love at first sight. It is arranged marriages and trying to find an escape. I need to know what his escape is,” I explained, and to his credit, the old man was taking notes.

“You live up to your reputation,” the man grumbled as he stood, grabbing a sandwich to take with him.

“Let's hope for both our heads you do a better job. I don’t believe the king is especially forgiving,” I warned as he toddled out of the room. “Of all the men the king wants me to seduce, why does it have to be Claude?” I muttered as my hand rubbed over my neck again.