Page 20 of Twisted Control

“If you want to cop a feel, you can just ask,” he says. “But the answer is no…for now. Try to keep your hands to yourself. I know it’s hard.”

I close my eyes for half a second, willing myself to stay calm.

I’m just going to ignore him.

I move toward the accessories at the back of the store. As I pass the counter I offer the sales assistant a small, polite smile. She doesn’t return it. Instead she stands there with her arms folded, dragging her gaze over me like I’ve tracked mud across her floor. The other girl in the matching black uniform leans in, and they drop their voices into a loud, theatrical whisper.

I feel their eyes on my back the entire way to the accessories.

Then comes the giggling.

Heat floods my cheeks—sharp, ugly embarrassment that makes me want to disappear. Then they fix their gazes on Drew, cheeks pink, whispering behind their hands like schoolgirls.

I head for the exit, chin high.

“Let’s go,” I mutter to Drew.

The moment we’re back on the sidewalk I whirl on him. “Can you believe those women?”

“Who?”

“The shop assistants,” I snap. “They were laughing at me.”

Drew barely reacts. “Why do you care?”

“Because they were laughing at me,” I say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Drew says casually. “You threw a shoe and bit the guy. Who cares?”

I freeze, staring at him in disbelief. “How do you know about that?”

“Saw the video.” Another lazy shrug.

“You looked me up? You are not allowed to do that.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him. “No. You won’t.” My voice comes out thinner than I want. “You work for me now, which means you do exactly what I say. And I say: do not research me.”

I swallow hard. “And you’re here to do a job, not flirt with me. So stop trying to be cute.”

“I can do both,” he says, a slow smile curving his lips. “I’m an excellent multitasker…but you already know that.” His gaze drops to my mouth for a beat before returning to my eyes. “And I’m glad you think I’m cute. The feeling’s very mutual. But like I said—you’re gonna have to keep it in your pants until this job is done.”

Just when I think the humiliation can’t sink any lower, a black BMW convertible full of teenagers slows down beside us.

“Don’t bite him!” one of the guys yells. The whole car erupts in laughter as they speed off.

My face burns. Great. Now random strangers think I’m some feral girl who needs to be muzzled.

Before I can even snap back, Drew’s low voice cuts in, smooth and far too amused. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

I’m done. Completely done.

“I’m going home,” I say, not even looking at him. “Bring the bags in your car.”

“Yes, boss,” he replies.

Later that afternoon, I’m pacing my room like a caged animal. Normally I’d be out with friends, laughing over cocktails and a late lunch. But my phone has been dead silent all day. Well…almost silent.