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... he night’s cold, brushing against Franz’s bare skin. The woman beside him—soaked, disheveled, and still visibly shaken—managed to gather her composure just enough to glance at him. Despite the tremble in her hands, a weak smile tugged at her lips.
"Flirting with a half-dead lady?" Victoria’s voice was hoarse, her usual elegance cracked under the weight of exhaustion. "You’re something else."
Franz leaned back, elbows resting on his knees, posture perfectly at ease despite the sit ...
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