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... e of the Capital when the first delivery arrived at the Sinclair Penthouse. The sky was a bruised purple, transitioning into a pale, sickly yellow that promised a day of stifling heat and even more stifling drama.
Aria was already awake, sitting on the edge of the guest bed she had retreated to after her "escape" from the Master Suite. She hadn’t slept well. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the phantom pressure of oil-slicked hands and heard the low, dangerous rumble of a man who ...
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