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... ng ancestors lined the walls, their painted eyes following our progress with aristocratic disapproval. Vases on pedestals. Sculptures in alcoves. More wealth per square foot than I’d see in a lifetime.
And in front of me, Cassidy Valentine walked.
Walked was perhaps the wrong word.
She moved like a runway model. No, that wasn’t quite right either. She moved like a cat who knew exactly how much space she occupied and wanted you to notice every inch of it. Her hips swayed w ...
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