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... ing coffee cup. The courier could lose himself in the bitter darkness of the soft, delightful drink.


Anything to alleviate the tension in the room.


“Your cup is not poisoned,” Livia said before clearing her throat. She wore a black turtleneck, classy, but casual. “If I wanted you dead, you would be.”


“Poison wouldn’t work anyway.” Ryan shrugged, before grabbing the cookies and drenching them in the coffee. “But there are still two hitmen right outside the door, and ...

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