So everybody seems to know Soorayah. Everyone except me. “What is she doing here?” Mason asks, doing nothing to hide the bite in his voice. “Good to see you too, Mace,” Soorayah says with mock sweetness. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps. Soorayah walks toward him slowly, like she has all the time in the world. Her smile never slips for even a second. She runs a finger lightly down Mason’s chest. “Still as charming as ever… Mace,” she says again, intentionally emphasizing the nickname. Mason grabs her wrist and shoves her hand away hard enough to make the bracelets around her wrists clink softly. “Don’t touch me,” he grits out. Something flashes briefly across Soorayah’s face. Satisfaction. As though provoking him had been the goal all along. No one moves to stop them. Damon sits behind the cracked desk Mason had positioned earlier, his expression unreadable. Rhoda watches silently from the far side of the room, her arms folded tightly across herself. No one seems willing
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