Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. In Singapore that had been her only dissipation: a dozen pairs of silk stockings. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. Still, my tutor was a highly educated scholar—my father. “Because I know for a fact that she was having sex with Gary Rothko during homecoming Freshman year and she let him pork her up the ass. I would be the kidnapper, of course, but we would forge ransom notes and exchange monies so that it appeared you were taken by brigands or plotters against the Iovelli family. Doesn’t matter a bit to me.
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