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... e starting the Cullinan, sneering, "If you take off any more, it’ll cost money, Miss Crawford."
"Money?"
She tucked a bank card into Lachlan Wyatt’s belt, her slender hand brushed against the man’s solid waist through his shirt. This behavior was too bold; the old Iris Crawford would never have dared it,
Yet at this moment, Iris Crawford merely feigned a smile, her eyes cold, and she said, "Thank you, Young Master Wyatt, for taking me to Jordan Jacobs’ wedding venue today ...
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