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The meal.

Betty's POV. 

His resort was right there, attached to the same beach restaurant where we'd had dinner before. 

The realisation sent a flutter through my stomach as we walked through the familiar entrance, but this time, we turned down a different corridor, one that led to his private space.

The room he brought me to was perfect for studying. 

The large windows overlooked the darkened beach, a spacious desk already scattered with papers, and shelves lined with textbooks. 

He pulled ...

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