I didn’t used to. I knew Steven didn’t like me and that to him, it was just a business arrangement. In my past life, I was the one who shamelessly clung to him, refusing to let go.
But this life, especially after what he said today, made me see him for what he was: a bastard who wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
I looked up at him, my head spinning. I felt lucid one moment and on the verge of blacking out the next. My voice grew slower with each word, my eyes threatening to close again.
“That son of a bitch… Who wouldn’t regret marrying him? My intestines are tied in knots with regre—mmph!”
Before I could finish, the man lunged, pressing his body down on mine. As if he had reached his breaking point, he kissed me, hard and desperate.
I had been teetering on the edge of consciousness, but the kiss shocked me into a state of stunned silence.
My mind raced. *Why would Horace kiss me?* But my eyes saw Steven, his face a mask of fury and frustration that was starting to make me uncomfortable.
The kiss was fierce, almost brutal. After a moment of shock, I started to push him away, but his long, powerful fingers wrapped around my wrists, pinning them above my head. He held me fast, kissing me as if he wanted to devour me whole.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t break free. My vision suddenly went black, and the force of the kiss sent me into unconsciousness.
The next day, I shot up in bed, wide awake. My long, curly hair was a tangled mess over my shoulders. I looked around. This was Rachel’s apartment, no doubt.
So I had made it back. Horace must have brought me home. It was strange, though… I seemed to recall a dream where Horace, wearing Steven’s face, had brought me home. He had kissed me, hard. And I think he even used his tongue…
I slapped my cheeks, trying to shake off the lingering sensation on my lips. I frowned, muttering to myself.
“That felt way too real. What’s wrong with me? Am I still thinking about Steven?”
Impossible. Absolutely impossible. The only thing I wanted from him was for him to drop dead.

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