“You’re not going to ask me what happened?” she questioned, stirring a bit of cream into her tea. “No.” “I showed up at your house in the middle of the night crying, with boxes, and you’re not the slightest bit curious?” He rotated his glass, the amber liquid swirling. “Of course I’m curious, but you’ll tell me when you’re ready. I’m not one to pry.” Atta squinted at him. “Every bone in your body is made up of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. I don’t buy that for a second.” He stretched across her to reach his cigar and she held her breath, every nerve within her coming alive with him so
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