The carriage house on the historic waterfront was silent, warm, and smelling faintly of seasoned birch logs and beeswax when Thomas pulled the Range Rover into the cobblestone courtyard and clicked the iron carriage gates shut behind them. Inside the loft, the automatic climate control had already brought the room to a comfortable seventy-two degrees. Adrian led Tessa inside, locking the triple deadbolts on the heavy timber door. He immediately…
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