One scene lingers in my mind. One morning, I wore my sexy black and red mini dress. And I thought I looked rather charming. Marcus did a double take, his face wrinkled with jealousy.
He said, “Don’t think you’re going out wearing that slutty outfit.”
Before I realized it, he’d reached his hand out, grabbed the collar of my and dress, and tore it. I looked down and saw the material bunched in his hand. Marcus didn’t realize how lucky he was after doing something like that. As I grabbed hold of his hand before he drew it back, that ugly Dad side of me was screaming to erupt. I gritted my teeth and wanted to rip his arm right from its socket. It took a lot to control my attack mode, but . . .
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