Chapter 75
NATHAN
Sly. That's what they thought they were. But they didn't know the meaning of the word. I lifted my wine glass to my lips, the rich liquid gliding over my tongue, and leaned back in my chair as the footage played before me. There she was—Eliza—leading Dominic Graham to bed like a puppet on a string. My lips curled into a satisfied smile. She was far more cunning than I’d given her credit for, sharper than that idiot Adelaide.
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