PREVIEW
... s what we were supposed to do. The air smelled faintly of coffee and freshly baked bread when we stepped into the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out—fruit, pastries, eggs, meats—a spread that belonged in a magazine.
The maids moved quietly around the table, pouring juice and filling plates.
I sat beside Paolo, my legs crossed, the hem of my dress sliding up just enough to show the edge of my thigh. The maids finished their tasks and slipped out, the soft click of the doo ...
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