The silence in the candlelit salon of the penthouse was charged with pure, combustible emotion. Julian stood before her, his massive six-foot-three frame trembling, his tear-streaked face bare inches from hers. His blue-gray eyes searched hers with terrifying vulnerability, bracing himself for the final blow, waiting for her to tell him that his repentance was too late. Instead, Clara raised her hands. Her slender, warm fingers gently cupped his rugged,…
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