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... nder’s private superyacht, cut through the dark blue waters of the southern strait. There were no guests, no loud brothers, and no rebellious teenagers, just the crew, who knew how to stay invisible, and Huan.
Outside, the wind whipped the whitecaps, but inside the main saloon, the only sounds were the soft crackle of a bio-ethanol fireplace and clinking ice.
Alexander stood by the panoramic window, a tumbler of aged scotch in his hand. He wore a thick cashmere sweater, a rare ca ...
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