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CHAPTER 89

MARK

I tapped my finger impatiently on the table as I scoured the small cafe. I checked the Rolex on my wrist.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath. This was what I hated about women, especially women like her. I hated waiting. I sipped on my drink and waited for ten more minutes before I finally spotted her from the large window highlighting from her car. She drove a Benz and dressed like those rich who did pilates girls did. She had an air of arrogance and entitlement to her. She looked like she was a bitch. And that was exactly what I was going for.

Jackpot.

“Mark Thompson?” She asked as she finally stood in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow in response, gesturing about the empty cafe.

She rolled her eyes and gingerly placed her birkin down on the table and took a seat. “You didn’t order me a drink?” She asked with her perfect bitchy tone— just as I had expected.

I folded my arms across my chest and matched her energy perfectly. “I didn’t know what kind of drink you like.” I lied, b
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