Ethan Cross didn't just walk into a room - he prowled. Broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, every inch of him radiated the kind of raw magnetism that made juries lean in, reporters hang on every word, and women stumble over their drinks. He had the kind of face that looked carved out of stone - sharp cheekbones, a square jaw shadowed with just the right amount of stubble, and full lips that could smir ...
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