Apr. 26th, 2005

[identity profile] palacechristian.livejournal.com
She’d arrived. Christian took a quick look in the wall mirror behind the office door, adjusted the lapels of his black jacket, flicked off a piece of lint and checked his hair for stray strands, all the time listening to the accelerating beat of his heart. His palms were damp and his mouth felt dry and, he thought with wry good humor, he was behaving like a . . . well, like a nervous groom.

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Palace: At Your Service.

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