I can find a decent woman. The Arya type. A compassionate, smart, attractive companion whose lifelong wish isn’t to see me burn in hell. And yet Christian and Riggs are right. The only woman I have eyes for is my poisonous, fickle stepsister. “This was good, wasn’t it?” she asks when I exit the bathroom. I nod. “Wanna see a movie?” I need to decompress after the wake. “Actually, I’m gonna work on the balcony for a bit.” Grace is unplugging her laptop from its charger in my bedroom. “While the weather’s still nice and all.” We never share a bed for more than sleep and sex. Never watch movies
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