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'S' for Screwed

"I... Ahem." Clara stopped, giving up on making up a reply since all that was in her head was gibberish.

Blah blah blah...

She had nothing to say to that, and so she pushed her hair backwards although it was perfectly still in the boring bun she had again knotted it into. It was easier to work without having strands of hair falling all over her face and blocking her view.

Andre waited for a response, but seeing as he wasn't getting any verbal one, a conclusion he reached by observing her fiddle with her hair and fingers, he stood, closing the button of his stripe suit jacket he had opened to seat down in a motion as swift as that of a professional.

And yeah, he'd gathered enough experience from years of playing dress up in designers' suits.

He walked towards her direction, his eyes focused steadily on her; his gaze hot and piercing. This time, he didn't walk fast like he always did, but took his time, prancing casually with the gait of a peacock. A royal, fucking hot peacock.

Her
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goodnovel comment avatar
$$$
Really SCREWED!
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