This one was the dark reflection of Émilie. Her olive skin was consistent and smooth. Those eyes were near as dark as his, and wavy black hair that neatly fell past her shoulders.
The Contessa was not thin, filling in her bustier beautifully, but the curves of her body were more subtle, alluring and exotic. The fact they were so different ensured Émilie’s curse never materialised…
She had the voice of an angel and Marc could scarcely take his eyes off of her. The bartender never said another word, letting their only guest consume every detail of her… I wonder if she does—“Good evening, Monsieur,” Sussana said.
Disclaimer: This excerpt from Man of War is currently in development. There may be typos, errors, omissions, inconsistencies and so forth.
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