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... cent imitation of a smile. "The one involving a certain folder. And a scent."
Max, halfway through sipping from his wine glass, froze.
He didn’t choke. Didn’t flinch. But he very, very carefully lowered his glass to the nearest table and began calculating—visibly—the number of exits, the distance to each, and how many nobles stood between him and sanctuary.
"You know," he said slowly, "I suddenly remembered a pressing appointment. With a different continent."
Alex ...
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