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It wasn’t because of Norman York’s confession, but because she had a dream.
In the dream, she seemed to return to many years ago, still in her early twenties, at her most youthful and vibrant.
She met the persistent (forceful and domineering) Dylan Wellington, who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
That hateful, yet deeply captivating man grabbed her hand and pinned her on the large bed.
The hotel’s room smelled of ambiguity...
He had claimed her coun ...
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