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... gh the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The bed was too big, the sheets too soft, the silence too complete. Then I remembered. Dulwich. The penthouse. The contract. The new reality.

I rolled over and saw her, a silhouette against the sprawling panorama of the London skyline. Emma was in the kitchen, wearing one of my oversized training shirts the Palace crest sitting just above her hip and a pair of short cotton shorts that showed off he ...

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