PREVIEW

... > Light poured through the glass dome of the Fitzgeralt Assembly Hall, scattering across chandeliers and polished marble floors like liquid gold. The room smelled faintly of citrus polish and wealth, centuries of it, layered over expensive perfume and conversation too practiced to be sincere.

Lucas stood at Trevor’s side, perfect posture wrapped in cream silk and quiet indifference. He looked exactly as a Fitzgeralt consort should: poised, immaculate, and only faintly bored. Trevor, besi ...

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