Page 15 of Twisted Control

He’s gone again before either of us can answer.

Grace doesn’t waste a second. She spins on her heel and bolts from the room.

The guest house is a letdown after the main mansion, but it’s still nicer than most people’s homes—clean, modern, high ceilings, and big windows overlooking the manicured grounds. The bed, though, is stiff as a board. I unpack in under five minutes and drop onto the edge of the mattress.

I pull out my phone. Officially, this is research. I should know exactly who I’m protecting. Unofficially, I just want to know who the hell Grace Whitmore really is.

I type in her name and scroll until I hit a video titled “Grace Whitmore Meltdown.”

I hit play.

Some guy is down on one knee in front of her, holding up a cheap plastic ring. He’s rambling about giving up everything. Moving overseas. His face looks familiar. I pause, check the article—Max Carter. I know his brother Dean. Solid guy.

I hit play again.

Max keeps talking, then drops the bomb: he’s in love with some other chick. The camera catches the exact second Grace’s face shifts—from hurt to furious. She starts naming names until he stops denying it.

Then she rips off her shoe and hurls it at his head. She misses, but it still clips his shoulder. The camera jerks as she charges at some woman. Max grabs her, they struggle, and Grace sinks her teeth into him like a wild animal.

Fucking hell.

I skip ahead. She’s ripping floral arrangements off the wall, petals exploding everywhere while she completely loses it.

The video ends. I stare at the frozen frame for a long second, then let out a low laugh.

This is what people are losing their minds over? A thrown shoe and a bite?

Honestly? I’m on her side.

I toss the phone onto the bed and drag a hand over my jaw.

This just got complicated as hell.

I can’t quit this job without giving Ray a good reason, and “I accidentally slept with the client’s daughter” isn’t one I’m eager to explain. Walking away now would look suspicious.

Better to see it through. Do the job. Keep my mouth shut and my hands off her.

But the second this gig is over…all bets are off. We’re picking up right where we left off.

I stand and head for the security system. Time to get to work.

5

GRACE

This is an absolute nightmare.

It’s late afternoon and I’m still stuck on the same paragraph I’ve read at least five times. The words have turned into blurry little ants marching across the page. With a dramatic sigh, I fling the novel across the bed.

I’ve been trapped in my bedroom for six straight hours. The walls are starting to close in, my skin feels two sizes too small, and this restless, itchy energy is crawling all over me. I’m officially going stir-crazy.

But what choice do I have? I can’t leave the house without my stupidly hot one-night stand following me. And Dad can never, ever find out what happened between us. If he did, he’d cut me off fast. Just like he did with Mom.

I still remember the day she left. Within hours, her credit cards were cancelled, her car was repossessed, and after that…it was like she’d never existed. Dad’s never mentioned her again.

That’s exactly how I’ll end up if I’m not careful.

And like mom, I have nothing to my name. I used to have sponsorships and influencer deals, but that’s all dried up. Now I’m one hundred percent dependent on Dad. While Finn is being groomed to inherit the entire supplement empire, it’s always been expected that I would marry well and let some rich husband take care of me.