It was impossible to miss the look that crossed Miss Zinnia's face as he couldn't keep his eyes from her. Harder still as she stood before him and situated herself on his lap. Rhys' eyes darted toward the door now, though he knew the secretary had left and the shades on his window were drawn, something about this felt very, very off.

His grip tightened on the arms of the chair, determined as he was to keep them there, it was proving harder and harder. He finally determined that heavenly scent was coming from her; must have been her perfume. "I think so," Rhys admitted slowly, swallowing and trying to lean back in the chair. The perfume, the contact, it was a little intoxicating. "Are you sure you're alright, Miss Zinnia?" Something was off. This was far too much and somehow wrong, even if he felt his heartbeat betraying him.

He was far too aware of her every movement, the blue of her eyes, the fall of her hair. Without thinking, he moved one hand to her knee, and then was suddenly focused on the feeling of the fabric of her dress beneath his palm. Rhys chanced a glace up at her beautiful face again and sucked in a breath.