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"Miss Lexington, is something wrong?" he asked politely, his tone almost reverent.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Alfred Schumann, the world-famous pianist, was acting deferentially toward her.
Even Margot, who had spent so much time trying to network with him, looked bewildered.
She stepped forward cautiously, her voice shaky. "Who... who are you?"
I do not look back after the hotel vanishes behind the bend of the coastal road. The Gulf Shores night slides past the …
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