“They’re definitely going to notice we’re gone by now,” I muttered, half-pacing behind Marcus while he stood at the counter, ordering like he owned the whole damn mall. “Penelope’s probably throwing a tantrum, and Sebastian’s doing that thing where he doesn’t say anything but judges the entire room with one glance—”Marcus, of course, wasn’t listening.He was too busy grinning at the cashier, pointing to three different things on the glowing overhead menu. His enthusiasm was borderline embarrassing. Like a child at a carnival with unlimited tokens.“Young Master,” I hissed, arms crossed. “This is irresponsible. We’re supposed to be—”Something pressed against my lips.Warm. Soft. Lightly crisped on the edges.“What the—” I started, jerking slightly.He raised his brows, holding a piece of flatbread with some kind of filling. “Try it.”I opened my mouth to argue, but instinct won over pride—and I bit down.My eyes widened.The flavors exploded—savory, a little sweet, perfectly spiced.
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