Page 73 of Twisted Little Thing

I cast him a doubtful look. "It rather seems like you're trying to change me. To influence me. Just like parents or teachers would."

"I can see why it feels like that," he admits. "But tell me one thing: Are you happy? Are you truly happy with how your life is going right now? Is this exactly what you want to be doing?"

I hesitate. This is not the kind of conversation I want to have right now. But mostly, because it is uncomfortable.

Because he is right.

"I don't know what I want to do," I say. "It's not that easy for some people."

He nods. "I know it's not. Let's find out together then."

I look at him, unsure whether I am interpreting too much into his words. He returns my look with a sincere yet stern expression on his face.

"I am in this for the long run," he says. "I know I might have suggested otherwise – with my words and my actions. But Nicky, you are too good and too close to my heart. I would be an idiot to let you go."

I blush. "Oh."

"Don't worry," he says, accompanied by a cheeky grin. "I am not going to kidnap and collar you right away. But I want to prove to you that I am serious about you. That you can trust me. Because I trust you."

"How?" I ask.

He smiles. "I'm glad you asked because we're here."

The car stops just as he finishes his sentence. He doesn't wait for the driver to get out and open the door for us, but does it himself, offering me his hand to follow him.

"Where are we?" I ask, standing next to him, looking up the high-rise building in front of us. At first, I believe it is another hotel, a fancy one. But a second glance at the entrance tells me that there is no reception, just a few glass doors behind which I can spot a bright and big hallway with marble floors.

"Home," he simply says.

He takes my hand and leads me inside, passing two security doors before we are inside in front of an elevator.

"You live here?" I inquire.

He smiles at me. "Yes, I do."

I have no idea what part of the city we are in, as the blackened windows of the limo hardly give way to the outside. But the drive wasn't that long. Wherever we are, he cannot be living that far away from my own home.

We take the elevator up to one of the highest floors. Evan has to enter another code for the elevator to even stop on that level, and when the door opens, there appears to be another door for which he has to use a card.

It is a private elevator. We end up getting out in a little lobby that leads directly into a gigantic living room.

He takes the lead and I follow him, trying not to gawk too much as I take in the beautiful space around me.

I have always held the prejudice that rich people don't have any taste, but Evan is clearly not guilty of that. The place is not cluttered with expensive objects that are of no use but to show off. In fact, there are very few things around. The colors are rather reserved and well matched, and the living room suite actually looks comfortable and not too much of a designer piece to be actually used.

"I have never brought anyone here," he says, standing behind me. "I know, you don't have to believe those words, but they are true. This is a place I have only shared with you."

"Well," I say. "Not yet. I haven't seen much yet, have I?"

"Little brat," he whispers, leering at me. "There is something else we need to do first."

"What would that be?" I ask, looking up at him all innocent.

He leers at me again, looking as handsome as ever.

"Your punishment," he says. "For not doing your homework."

Oh, right.

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