Early morning.
Strands of warm sunlight passed through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows and spilled across the wooden floor. Before anyone knew it, the next morning had arrived.
Faint morning light filled the room, illuminating the young woman's smooth, fair skin. Eiffel sat before the carefully arranged dressing table, holding a jade comb as she gathered her silky hair, combed it meticulously, and fashioned it into a neat, refreshing hairstyle.
As she tied up her hair, her gentle, domestic air abruptly changed, returning to the commanding presence of the woman who managed every aspect of the Alt Conglomerate.
A night of pleasure had not left her exhausted. Instead, she felt refreshed, and even her sleep had been deeper than usual.
Eiffel looked toward the large bed, which remained shrouded in dimness. Mr. Jonas's eyes were closed, and he was still sound asleep.
Usually, on the morning after their lovemaking, Mr. Jonas would wake her. Why had things been completely reversed today?
...Perhaps he had been too tired lately.
That was what she thought, but then she recalled how vigorously he had acted last night, as though racing against the clock. He had hardly seemed tired then.
Never mind. I can't figure it out, so I should get to work first. I'll wake Mr. Jonas later.
She put on a smart suit jacket and a figure-hugging skirt, worked her tight, slightly sheer black stockings up from her ankles until they covered her slender thighs, then slipped into a pair of red heels and walked gracefully toward the door.
Just then, Jonas woke up.
He opened his eyes groggily, and a graceful figure entered his vision.
"Mr. Jonas, you're awake?"
"Good morning, Miss Eiffel."
Jonas kept yawning, still looking exhausted and half asleep.
Eiffel covered her mouth with a soft laugh and asked,