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Summary
Armand leans back in her chair and smirks. “There’s nobody here to notice if you absolutely must rut yourself against the seam of your slacks, Daniel; this is a private dining room. Given the sorry state of your thoughts, though, perhaps you’d prefer if I took a seat at the bar and sat you in my lap instead. It would only be fair, of course, every patron deserves a chance to see why I spend millions of dollars and so much of my time indulging you.”