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... , crossing her long legs and giving me that lazy, feline smirk.

> "What do you want?"

She twirls a lock of golden hair between her fingers.

> "What makes you think I want something?"

I don’t respond. I just look at her.

She holds the stare for a moment before rolling her eyes dramatically.

> "Fine."

She flips her hair over one shoulder and sighs.

> "There’s this modeling contract—Mucci. I know you know someone."

...

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