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... or once before pushing it open, not bothering to wait for an invitation. If Cain wanted me to wait, he should have locked it.

Cain is seated behind his desk, a glass of wine in one hand and an open book in the other. He looks up the moment I step inside, a grin spreading across his face like he's actually pleased to see me.

"Well, well," he drawls, setting the book aside. "Look who's finally awake. I was beginning to think you'd decided to stay unconscious just to spite me."

...

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