PREVIEW
... e soft click of the hallway door shut behind him as he stepped into his private suite— quiet, minimal lighting. This time, the scent of dark cedarwood lingered faintly in the air.
He shrugged off his coat, tossing it lazily across the nearby chair. His sunglasses followed, landing perfectly on top of a mini table.
He rubbed the back of his neck with a low sigh and muttered under his breath, "Emma’s imagination is a war crime..."
Seriously. That girl had no brakes. Cow gir ...
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