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The kitchen, normally chaos, had gone strangely quiet.
That was when Elena felt it.
Something was wrong.
“Table one is booked,” Richard whispered. “The private alcove.”
“The Dubai investors?”
“Worse.”
His eyes darted toward the dining room.
“The Moretti family. Alessandro Moretti. And his grandmother.”
Elena’s hands went cold.
Even in the hard, exhausted life continue reading …
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