The woman wore nothing beneath her red tight-fitting dress, rubbing against him, hoping to ignite Mark Reed.
Smelling the intoxicating perfume of the woman, Mark Reed's stomach churned.
He forced himself to endure it, compelling himself to get used to that scent.
There was no feeling at all for the woman next to him.
Mark Reed frowned, and once again Valentine Teller's furious little face appeared in his mind.
His body temperature immediately rose.
Mark Reed pushed away the woman in his arms and stood up, walking out of the private room.
In his mind was only Valentine Teller's delicate face, flushed with a rosy tint, her eyes dazed.
Mark Reed shook his head, not in the mood to drink, and drove straight home.
...
Everything seemed to return to normal. As for those true or false rumors, Valentine Teller still maintained an attitude of turning a deaf ear, as only this could make herself happy.
She lived for herself, not for others.
