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... in the doorway.
Fifteen pairs of eyes locked onto me.
The conversations died mid-sentence. Someone dropped a pen. It hit the desk with a tiny plastic clack that echoed louder than it had any right to.
Nobody said anything.
Well this is fucking awkward.
I opened my mouth to say something but a voice cut through the silence before I could.
"Rome D’Angelo."
I looked toward the front of the room.
A woman stood there. Early twenties may ...
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