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... the floor-to-ceiling window, arms folded tightly across his chest. Behind him, the quiet shuffle of expensive heels approached, it was the soft, deliberate rhythm of a woman who never had to rush for anything in her life.

Matilda didn’t sit behind her desk. She sat at the sofa by the fireplace, her reflection clear in the dark glass panel across from him. Regal. Calculating. And already tired of waiting.

"You’ve disappointed me," she said, each word wrapped in silk and steel.

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