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... I stepped through the door. The late-afternoon sun poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the open-plan living room in warm gold. The city skyline glittered beyond. The air smelled of vanilla and fresh-baked cake—Jasmine’s doing, no doubt. It had to be. She really was a good cook.
Jasmine, Kim, and Tessa were already at the dining table, a massive slab of black marble that could seat twelve. A three-tiered chocolate cake sat in the center, frosted with glossy ganache, top ...
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