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... d her head in her meal. Suddenly called out, her reflexes made her look up—right into Mr. Grant’s gaze.
Just like Cillian Grant, the look in his eyes had the same piercing depth, but its sharpness was much more direct, without Cillian’s obscurity and layers.
Eleanor’s scalp tightened. She lowered her head, pretending to eat.
Cillian set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "The answer from a month ago—I think you can recall it."
Mr. Grant still h ...
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