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Proud Peacock.
last update2025-07-31 23:57:34
April's POV

The terminal lounge smelled like old money and overconfident men. Even the air-conditioning felt smug.

Jeez!

I am so damn tired!

I shifted my weight from one heel to the other and glanced at Sinclair, who was too still. Tense, jaw locked like his teeth were having a fight with each other. The silence between us wasn’t companionable.

It was coiled. Waiting like my life depended on it.

Then the doors opened, and the golden boy walked in.

Who’s this?

Cassian Hale. Sinclair had done me the favor of briefing me about who we were going to pick up. Thankfully. And the man? He didn’t just enter a room. He arrived. Shoulders back, coat draped over one arm like some Italian prince of Wall Street, tailored to sin and cut with entitlement.

His hair looked art-directed, the kind that cost more than my first car. He walked like he owned the runway and the tarmac outside it.

Funny how I already had a nickname for him in my head. Proud peacock.

Real! Proud peacock, i
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