“Tom, I think we should go back to the ballroom,” Catarina said, trying to pull away, but it was no use; he was stronger, and his grip around her waist tightened even more.

“Come on, Catarina,” he said, full of arrogance and drunkenness. “Stop pretending you don’t know what I came looking for.” A cynical smile appeared on his lips. “Don’t play hard to get. I always get what I want.”

His gaze was intrusive and domineering, and the strong smell of alcohol made everything even more suffocating.

Of