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... eather couch in the penthouse suite, still shirtless, the marks from Olivia’s nails raked across his chest like battle scars earned in a war of passion. The city lights outside flickered through the tall glass windows, casting shadows that danced across the tangled sheets and discarded clothes scattered like evidence of their reckless abandon. Twenty-three floors below, New York pulsed with its usual midnight rhythm—sirens, car horns, the distant thrum of life that never slept.

Across fr ...

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