Page 61 of Twisted Control

I don’t have feelings for Drew. I’m just isolated right now. Lonely. Completely cut off from my normal life, stuck hiding out with a man I’m extremely attracted to. Of course things got messy.

That’s all this is.

What I need is distance from him. Other people around me. My actual life back.

I’ll go see Jasmine tomorrow. Fix things with her.

Once I stop being alone with him all the time, this whole thing will finally die out on its own.

Problem solved.

17

GRACE

“Where are we going?” Drew asks for the third time.

“To see a friend,” I say, staring stubbornly out the windshield.

I’ve been icy toward him all morning. Or at least attempting to be. Unfortunately, ignoring Drew takes an exhausting amount of concentration when he’s sitting right beside me looking like that.

He’s wearing that navy suit today. White shirt open at the throat, expensive watch catching the sunlight every time his hand moves on the steering wheel. He absolutely dressed like this on purpose. He probably thinks one good suit and a few smirks are enough to make me forget last night.

He is mistaken.

“You don’t have any friends, baby.”

“I do.”

“Those girls aren’t your friends,” he says flatly. “And I don’t like you wasting time with people who make you feel like shit.”

I turn toward him sharply. “It’s none of your business.”

“Then why am I driving you there? Could have driven yourself.”

I hate that he has a point.

The truth is, I got nervous halfway through getting ready and the idea of driving here alone made me feel slightly sick. So I’d marched downstairs and informed Drew he was taking me.

“Aren’t you the one always preaching about the environment?” I mutter instead.

Drew snorts and then the bottom of the car scrapes lightly against the slope.

“Yeah, yeah.” He glances at me briefly. “Look, I forgive you for last night. You said some hurtful things, but I know you’ve got a lot going on right now⁠—”

“Oh my God.” I turn to him in horror. “There is nothing to forgive. And I do not need your forgiveness.”

His mouth twitches.

“I’m not catching feelings for you. You are literally the last man on earth I would catch feelings for.”

“You’re very emotional for someone who doesn’t care.”

I hold up a hand before he can continue. I am absolutely not letting this man bait me into another argument right now.

Instead, I look out the window, watching the familiar mansions glide past. We’re only a few blocks from home now. A minute later Jasmine’s house comes into view—elegant sandstone, pristine hedges, iron gates. Her father owns some enormous shipping empire.

“Pull over here,” I say, gesturing toward the gate.