CHAPTER HUNDRED & FOURTEEN

"Welcome back, Mr Johns." The flight attendant said cheerily.

Her smile was the whitest thing Ceneau had ever seen, which was saying a lot as he grew up in a family of people whose dentition were made perfect by many years of orthodontics.

"Thank you," he told her grudgingly.

The sun was out and bright, a flat golden blot in the sky. It burned his eyes with its brightness.

He wanted to make sure his last night in São Paulo was well spent, so he spent it at another club. Hours of partying at nighttime tended to make the eyes burn in daylight.

Ceneau plucked his sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and put it on. Behind him, Gaude descended from the stairs. Jovian followed closely behind.

The man had been the one who snapped him out of his haze. He had fallen into a pattern - parties and nightclubs and booze and wine and bars and women, in all the shades they came in.

Ceneau figured, if he was going to spend the rest of his life trapped in an arranged marriage with a woman
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