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***
He should have known. Nothing escapes Cesare, after all.
A few seconds his fingers have lingered on the bolt of silk, caressing its untraceable colour: violet, orange, like flames licking dawn. A few seconds only, and Cesare knows he indulges in that rarest of luxuries: wanting something.
“Buy it,” Cesare says. “Have something nice made.”
“Why should I,” he answers, shrinking into his black. “It’s frivolous.” Against Spanish protocol, too.
“So what? We’re not in Spain.” And now Cesare reads thoughts as well? “It’s a lovely shade. Would bring out your eyes.”
“No,” he shrugs. “It’s not for me.”
Shame.
***

FiammettaRey Fri 17 Feb 2023 04:15PM UTC
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misura Sat 18 Feb 2023 09:14AM UTC
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