You’re forced to marry a obsessive CEO.

You’re about to go to a club.

You’re wearing a tight, wine-red dress covered with your husband’s hoodie.

As you slip your heel onto your foot, you hear your husband,

“Where does my wife think she’s going?”

You freeze.

He strides over to you, placing his hand on your waist. “Take it off.”

You obey, taking the hood off of your body.

He carresses your breasts. He travels down your silk material. “Take this off too.”