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59

Francesca

He was carrying me around the house. I tried not to think about how good Fausto felt touching me, the warmth of his chest enveloping me after all this time. This was a slippery slope, and there was no way I was signing up to do that ride again.

My body's reaction to him irritated me. “Put me down,” I snapped. — You're still covered in blood and sweat.

- No.

I thought about smashing this cake in his face, but I decided not to. Although I found it satisfying, it would be a waste of a large cake.

When we reached the top of the stairs, he turned left instead of right, walking toward his wing of the castle. - Where are you going?

You went the wrong way.

— You will stay with me from now on.

I was unnerved. — I want my own room, Fausto.

— You will stay here with me.

Not God. Please, anything but that. Being close to him, smelling him. There would be no relief for my long-buried feelings. I grabbed the fork from the top of the cake and held it like a weapon. —My own room, or I swear
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