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A profound gaze lingered, etching the tableau into memory.

Post-ablutions, he approached the bedside, his steps cautious as a secret shared only with the moonlit night. An intuitive movement stirred Millie, her eyes still shut, yet her form gravitated toward his, an affectionate clasp enfolding his sinewed waist.

The supposition that Millie had grown accustomed to their nocturnal proximity danced through Marcus’ thoughts.

Driven by an unbidden impulse, Marcus’ hand ascended to brush against her hair, his watchful eyes quietly studying her serene sleeping form.

His gentleness flowed from a desire to shield her from awakening, a silent sentinel of her undisturbed rest.

Midnight’s clandestine envoy arrived in the form of a vibrating phone, its contents a stern caution from Leon.

“Guard her well from harm’s way.”

motion as calculated as the breeze’s caress, Marcus

vigil undisturbed spanned the night’s hours, and with dawn’s arrival, Marcus settled within the study’s embrace, poised for discourse with foreign allies. His frame, ensconced in supple leather, unburdened itself of formality as the shirt’s buttons yielded to liberation. Elegantly, his lengthy limbs found refuge atop the polished expanse of

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escalating impulsiveness and irritability, coupled with the ominous potential to

short of absolute dominion over the condition. Marcus’s fingers

gaze narrowed subtly, the room imbued

door, Millie’s presence was

scented tea. Would you

Marcus ensconced in the study once more,

rising to attend to the air purifier. With a sense of urgency, he organized the scattered documents upon the table before unlatching the

“Honey.”

guided her into the study’s