Lucrezia Borgia Sforza Wayne Lannister della Rovere slept the sleep of the unencumbered. Her previous husband had been a brute, as were all husbands. And now she was free of him. God worked in mysterious ways, and so did la cantarella.
Well. La cantarella was, perhaps, less mysterious. One poured it into one's husband's wine, and one no longer had a husband.
Lucrezia did not believe in regrets. Only opportunities.
And the handsome young man lying in the bed next to hers, he certainly appeared to be one.
"Good morning," she murmured, wrapping the covers around herself with a smile.
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Well. La cantarella was, perhaps, less mysterious. One poured it into one's husband's wine, and one no longer had a husband.
Lucrezia did not believe in regrets. Only opportunities.
And the handsome young man lying in the bed next to hers, he certainly appeared to be one.
"Good morning," she murmured, wrapping the covers around herself with a smile.
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