Helene Svendsen

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Only when I’m on the last one do I become aware of an eerie silence in the room. Nino and Stefano are frozen in place a few feet away, their eyes glued to my hands and the front of Salvatore’s shirt. On my other side, Ilaria’s clutching the box of antibiotics, staring at my hands in a similar fashion.
Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect, #5)
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