Page 81 of Twisted Control

“No?” I echo.

Drew’s gaze moves over me again “If you wear that dress, I’m going to spend the entire gala knocking guys out for staring at you.”

I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “So you like it?”

“Best thing I’ve ever seen,” he says. “Which is why you can’t wear it.” He reaches out and runs his fingers along the bare skin of my back, sending shivers down my spine. “You should’ve told your dad no to this whole thing in the first place. I’m starting to think you actually want that old man.”

I tilt my head. “I told you, I’m trying to repel him⁠—”

“Not in that dress, you won’t.” His eyes rake over me again, slower this time. “Tell your dad you’re not going.”

God, he makes it sound so simple. Like I can just click my fingers and rewrite my entire life.

“Have you ever tried arguing with my father?” I ask. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Because you turn into a scared little girl every time you’re around him.” He steps fully into the dressing room and closes the heavy velvet curtain behind him, sealing us inside. “You’re a grown woman. Tell him no.”

I shake my head.

“Since you’re so terrified,” he says, crowding me gently against the mirror, “how about I tell him myself?”

“No,” I say quickly. “We’ll just get through the night and…”

“And what?” Drew challenges, voice dropping. His thumb brushes along my jaw as he looks at me in the reflection. “Tell him after the wedding. After you pop out some kids?” He leans in closer. “We could be together, Grace. Actually together.”

I stare at him, chest tight. He doesn’t understand.

“My dad would disown me.”

“So?” He says it so easily, like it’s nothing. “He’s a cock anyway. I’ll take care of you.”

“You can’t afford me.”

He flips the price tag on the dress with a wry smile. “I can’t afford the twenty-million-dollar mansion or a private jet. But we could be comfortable.” His eyes meet mine in the mirror, warm and serious. “You might have to lower your standards, just a little.”

“What an offer,” I say dryly.

“I mean it, Grace.” His voice softens. “We could be happy.”

He steps closer behind me, his hands sliding slowly up my hips until they settle on my waist. We both stare at our reflection in the mirror. The dress clings to every curve, and Drew stands tall and strong behind me, his dark head bent toward mine.

We look beautiful together. Like we belong on a red carpet somewhere, or the cover of a magazine. The kind of couple people can’t help but stare at. For one dangerous moment, I let myself imagine it—us, out in the open.

The fantasy feels so good it almost hurts.

Then reality crashes back in.

“Even if I said yes,” I say quietly, “I’d have no one but you. And what happens if we break up?”

Drew stays silent for a long moment. His expression is serious like he actually understands exactly what I’d be risking.

Then he leans in closer, his voice low and steady against my ear. “I know what you’d be giving up. I’m not pretending it’s small. But choosing Charles? You’d be signing up for a life you already know you don’t want. You’d be miserable every single day, smiling for the cameras while you die a little more inside.”

He turns me gently until I’m facing him instead of the mirror, his hands cupping my face with surprising tenderness.

“And if you think I’d ever fuck this up with you⁠—”

“Everything alright in there?” a woman’s voice calls brightly from just outside the curtain.