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... enough, Sinbad stood there, grinning like he'd just won something.

"What do you want?"

"Helping."

"I don't need help."

"Helping anyway."

Malik rolled his eyes but didn't stop him as Sinbad grabbed one of the neatly bundled silks and double-checked the knots.

The kid always did this—followed him around, stuck to him like a shadow.

It was almost funny. Almost.

"You know, you don't have to be my personal assistant."

Sinbad hum ...

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