Felicia looked at her watch. He was late. Her looking-glass hung on the wall. She caught her reflection in the smudged silver surface, and smiled warmly, her confidence bolstered for an instant in a moment of self-admiration. Butterflies tickled her stomach. Felicia twirled a soft yellow curl, nervously.

Lord Malinov, Flowers of Malinov


About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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