He pressed me in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, the material of his suit pants rubbing against my legs, and his voice was hoarse: "What are you pretending to be? Isn't it just for me to dress like this?" I slapped him with my backhand and pointed at the limited edition Pagani downstairs: "Look clearly, that's my new boyfriend's car."
His pupils shrank suddenly, because the owner of that car was his nemesis who had never shown up.
