(Angela Moraga) As we stepped into the living room, I stopped and asked the muscular man, “Hello, excuse me. Who owns this house?” “Mr. Richard,” he replied tensely. As I looked into the living room where Richard strode toward the stairs, he paused looking at the driver with bloodshot eyes. “Get out, Derek!” Richard snarled, and the driver quickly ran out. I gritted my teeth, wondering how I ended up with my sister’s boyfriend. “Master Richard, please, let me go home,” I told him, trying to negotiate with him. I knew that it was futile negotiating with this man, and I blamed myself for accompanying Isabella to his birthday party. “Don’t call me that,” Richard grunted, as he glared at me too. “Huh, what do I call you then? My sister’s boyfriend?” I asked him, and his eyes narrowed. Richard came downstairs and strode to meet me. The next moment, he was standing in front of me, and his firm hands clasped around my neck. “You are so stubborn, unlike the calm kitten I saw at my
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