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CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Divers O’Roarke stared at the floor, then he flicked his gaze over the ceiling, before settling it on the tea pot, the backs of his eye-lids and the floor.

He wasn’t dying to have her--that was the last thing he’d do--just as she hadn't gone to Lyon the other day to beg him to spare his life. On that he staked that same life.

So why think otherwise because last night, yet again she'd wanted him?

He shook his head largely to clear it. She was his insurance here. No more. No less.

All he needed to do was see this and sit quiet. And when he could soon discredit her with Lyon, feed her falsehoods, do whatever it took to finish this job, he'd be damned to thinking she was anything other than what Gil said. A poisonous snake at that.

So why do it?

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