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... her face blushing bright red.
She took two steps away from him, glaring sharply, her eyes like daggers.
It was really too much.
She glared at him, her face red as if it could bleed, as if even the cold wind on her body had turned hot.
"Saturday, nine in the morning, I’ll pick you up downstairs in your neighborhood," Sylvan Cheney insisted without a word.
"Not happening."
"I’ll be there on time."
Jasmine Yale was terribly angry, while Sylva ...
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