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“If I’d known we were having a party,” Jameson half sang, “I would have ordered food.” “A party?” I asked. “A pity party.” Jameson smirked. “I see you dressed for the occasion, Gray.”
“It was always going to be you,” I told Jameson. He needed to hear it. I needed to say it, even though always painted over so much. In response, Jameson gave me another crooked smile. “It’s times like this, Heiress, that I wish I’d fallen in love with a girl who wasn’t quite so good at bluffing.”
Dead men didn’t get to be picky about their reputations, and that went double for dead men who’d used me the way he had.

