Late that night, in a private room at an upscale club, Steve had already had too much to drink. One of his friends suggested calling in a few women, and he barely reacted.“Steve, take a look. See if any of them are your type,” his friend said, nudging him.But Steve’s mind was full of Winter.She had blocked his texts and his number. That was just like her. Ever since she was young, once she got mad enough, she cut people off completely.Now, with the alcohol hitting harder, the frustration in his chest kept building.Their marriage was already a mess, and she had still ended up back in Chris’s bed.The second he saw the mark on her neck, he had lost his temper and said things he never should have said.And every time he remembered how her face had gone pale afterward, a dark rage rose in him. He kicked the coffee table in front of him.Liquor splashed everywhere. Bottles crashed to the floor.The women in the room huddled together in fear.Only one of them, though startled,
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