Page 67 of Twisted Control

He looks deeply annoyed to be having this conversation at all.

“The thing,” he mutters vaguely.

I just stare at him.

“The relationship,” he says finally, like the word physically pains him. “I’d maybe consider it.”

“Don’t put yourself out⁠—”

“Fuck’s sake, Grace.” Frustration flashes across his face. “I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

And suddenly he looks so sincere, so completely out of his depth, that the teasing dies in my throat.

I look away toward the ocean.

“I don’t know either,” I admit quietly.

The car goes silent.

After a moment, I shake my head lightly. “Let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

Drew studies me for a second, then nods once. He doesn’t push.

Instead, he slips off his shoes, climbs out of the car.

I follow him down onto the sand barefoot.

18

DREW

I’m sitting at the bar of this overpriced, pretentious restaurant, nursing a whiskey I don’t even want, watching Grace across the room with Charles.

The old prick is leaning in way too close, smiling with his wrinkly old hand creeping toward hers on the table. She’s smiling politely, but I know that look. The one she gives when she’s counting down the seconds until she can escape. She’s going to be on my cock again five minutes after this date ends.

But still, I’m sitting here like an idiot, jaw tight, feeling something ugly twist in my chest.

The last few days with her have been…really fucking good.

We’ve just been doing low-key shit—greasy diners, dive bars, hours parked in my car talking absolute nonsense while she steals my drink and gives me that smile that messes with my head.

Things feel different now.

I practically admitted I like her, and she hasn’t hit me with the “I hate you” line in days. That’s basically progress for us.

But she’s still fucking with my head. I try broaching the future and she shuts it down instantly. Then today she marched me into a clinic so we could ditch the condoms. One minute she’s all “let’s not talk about the future,” and the next she’s telling me she wants me raw.

I have no idea what the hell is going on in her head.

So I just shut up and do what she says. It’s easier that way.

Charles leans in closer, his hand sliding across the table toward hers. Grace moves her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Good girl.

I insisted on being here tonight. Might’ve come on a little strong about it, honestly. Maverick thought she’d be fine, but the second I laid eyes on Charles, I knew a stiff breeze could knock the guy over. In my professional opinion, she wasn’t safe with a man like that. Maverick indulged me, but told me to keep my distance.

Charles still got to pick her up and he gets to drop her home.