Maxwell Panetta

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The interruption snapped me out of whatever trance Xavier’s drinks/unholy magic/suspiciously glorious cologne put me under. I jerked away from him, the loss of body warmth as sobering as the bowl of ice water I’d thrown on him mere days ago. What was I doing? He was my client, and I’d almost…he’d almost…
King of Sloth (Kings of Sin, #4)
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