The Public Performance

The Presidential Suite smelled of lilies and the sharp, metallic tang of an impending disaster. Elena stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror, her reflection a stranger wrapped in silk that cost more than her annual salary. Behind her, Julian Vane moved with the predatory stillness of a shark in shallow water. He reached out, his fingers cool as he adjusted the diamond choker at her throat. The heavy stones bit into her skin—a physical weight that mirrored the contract the

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