Page 99 of Twisted Control

My heart slams against my ribs. There’s no point lying anymore.

“I’m leaving with him.”

Finn stares at me for a beat, then lets out a sharp, delighted laugh.

“Jesus Christ. You really are fucking stupid,” Finn says, shaking his head. “Dad’s going to disown you.”

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“You should. Have you even thought this through? What happens when it doesn’t work out? Because it won’t. You’ll have nothing. No money, no reputation, no safety net. You’ll be the girl who threw everything away to fuck the help. No one in our world will touch you after that. Your life will be over, Grace. Completely.”

“It will work out,” I insist.

Finn just stares at me, his expression somewhere between pity and disgust.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he says, pushing himself up from the bed. “It will probably kill him, you know.”

I frown. “What?”

“If there’s one thing Dad cares about more than his own children, it’s optics. I don’t think his heart could handle this going public. And it will.”

“Don’t say that. He’s not going to die.”

Finn shrugs, utterly unbothered. “Everyone croaks eventually.”

The silence that follows is thick and ugly.

“Then I get to be CEO,” he continues brightly, like we’re discussing weekend plans. “Mom will finally get what she’s owed, and…well, there’s nothing left for you.” His smile widens, sharp and delighted. “But hey, you won’t be around to miss it. You’ll be too busy slumming it with your bodyguard, playing house in some two-bedroom walk-up. Popping out ten-pound babies and pretending it’s all terribly romantic. Good luck with that.”

“Don’t you dare tell Dad—” I start.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he cuts in, smirking. “I don’t need your linebacker rearranging my face. Besides, you’re telling him anyway. Just let me know the time and place so I can have an ambulance on standby.”

When he finally saunters out and pulls the door shut behind him, the room feels ten degrees colder.

My hands tremble as I snatch my phone off the bed and call Drew.

He doesn’t answer.

29

DREW

The warehouse lease contract sits on Harlan’s desk, unsigned.

Levi’s leaning against the filing cabinet like he owns the place, arms crossed, white t-shirt and jeans like always.

“Just sign the fucking thing, Harlan,” Levi says, voice flat. “Schools out at three.”

Harlan’s hands shake over the pen. “I’m not signing. Ray can’t just—there are permits, inspections⁠—”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t even need to look. I know it’s Grace. She tried calling on the drive over too. I let it go to voicemail.

I can’t talk right now. Not with Levi next to me, and definitely not while I’m working.

She still thinks I’m a security consultant. I don’t even know if that’s a real job title.

She has no idea what I really do.