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Chapter 140: Fashionable Monsters
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But by the time he was eased into the back seat of the sleek black Fitzgeralt car, because, of course, it was sleek, black, and built like something that devoured lesser vehicles in parking lots, he was convinced his dignity had been left behind somewhere on the stairs.
The Marchioness slid in beside him with the grace of a woman half her age and twice his stubbornness, snapped her seatbelt into place, and tapped the privacy screen.
"Drive," she said to the front. Then, wi ...
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