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CHAPTER 22

“My terms were simple, wifey, each answer I make shall require you to strip something off your clothes.” He straightforwardly answered as he rested his back on the couch while never taking his eyes of me.

It would seem that Thiago was really anticipating my next move whether if I would oblige.

“You’re impossible! You are treating me like a whore, Thiago!”

“Oh, wifey, don’t you really have no sense of foreplay in you? We’re only having some little fun since interrogating me would only sound boring, isn’t it? Why don’t we spice it up a little bit.”

I couldn't believe how smug Thiago was, even in moments when I needed him to be serious. His idea of a game—stripping off my clothes for every question I wanted answered—was not only insulting but downright infuriating.

I felt my anger simmering beneath the surface, but instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, I turned on my heel and walked out of the room.

I needed air, space—anything to clear my mind from the absurdity of it
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