Page 91 of Twisted Control

But I know her better than that.

Grace isn’t indifferent about anything. She feels everything too much. She just hides it until it eats her alive.

Seeing them is going to crush her. Worse, she’ll have to stand there and smile through it while these assholes whisper and stare, acting like she was the problem the entire time.

And this dickhead gets to walk around like he did nothing wrong. Like he didn’t ruin her life for sport.

Something ugly and dark twists hard in my chest.

Why should Grace have to carry the fallout of what they did to her?

That doesn’t sit right with me.

I take a slow, deep breath, then crack my neck to the side with a quiet pop.

I grab a champagne flute from a passing tray and start walking toward the bar.

I can see it all unfolding in slow motion.

As I pass directly behind Max’s group, I clip a waiter hard enough to send his entire tray tilting violently. The glasses wobble for a split second, then crash to the floor in a loud, chaotic explosion of shattering crystal. Champagne and red wine splash everywhere. People curse and stumble back in shock.

Max spins straight into me.

My elbow connects with his nose in a perfect, sickening crunch.

“Jesus Christ!” I bark immediately, grabbing his shoulder like I’m trying to steady him. “Sorry, man—fuck. You came out of nowhere.”

Blood pours from Max’s nose instantly. Heidi shrieks beside him.

Around us, everyone’s too busy reacting to the spilled drinks and broken glass to fully register what happened.

And the important part?

Nobody can say for sure it wasn’t an accident.

Blood spills down his mouth and drips down the white collar of his shirt.

“All good,” Max groans, voice muffled as he clutches his face. “Accident.”

I take a half-step forward. “Let me get you some napkins⁠—”

“No, it’s fine,” Heidi says quickly, almost reassuring me. She slips an arm around Max’s back and steers him toward the restrooms. Blood dots the floor behind them as they disappear around the corner.

I was hoping they’d leave. Maybe I didn’t hit him hard enough.

Oh well.

I glance down and smooth a hand over the front of my suit jacket. Not a single drop of blood.

Lucky me.

I step away from the shattered glass and spilled champagne, calmly adjusting my cufflinks as I move to the other side of the ballroom.

Now I have a perfect view of the entrance.

Through the tall front windows, I watch the circular driveway glowing under the hotel’s golden lights. Guests continue arriving beneath the grand awning, valets rushing to open car doors while staff hover with their practiced smiles.

And Jamie is standing right at his post by the main entrance.