The rain outside the Roppongi penthouse turned into a gentle, rhythmic patter against the panoramic glass. Inside the quiet tea pavilion room, Clara sat on the edge of the low silk futon, her face buried against Julian’s broad chest. Julian sat with his back against the timber wall, his powerful arms wrapped around her, holding her securely in a fortress of warmth. "He murdered him, Julian," Clara whispered, her voice…
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