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“Have you decided which son of Bomard you’ll be attaching yourself to when you come of age? Like a leech.” She batted her lashes. “Well, I’m aiming for you, of course.”
“Absolutely,” Toven said. “I am accustomed to having the finest thing in the room, after all.”
And the thought floated through her addled consciousness that there was an auction, and she would belong to someone in a few short minutes. And Toven Hearst was bidding.
