Page 21 of Twisted Little Thing

CHAPTER VIII

Nicky

Evan Beckhart – smart, handsome, rich, the eternal bachelor?

I cannot take my eyes off of the article. What a sneaky bastard! I had sex with one of 'the country's hottest billionaire bachelors' – and I didn't even know it!

How could he not have mentioned this? Did he actively conceal it from me – or did he just expect me to know when he introduced himself? He could have used a fake name, after all. But he didn't. He actively ran the risk of me knowing who he is.

I feel so stupid.

What a great triumph it must have been for him to see me so clueless. The stupid hipster club girl who has no clue.

Then again, I never really asked him what he does for a living. Not once. I just shared my silly assumptions and – as he called them – prejudices. And he prohibited any further questions by the time we went to the hotel.

The expensive five-star hotel.

"Damn," I whisper to myself, still sitting at the kitchen table and staring down at the article.

"Did you say something?" I hear Yuka ask from the hall.

Moments later, she appears at the doorway to the kitchen, tilting her head quizzically.

I hastily close the magazine and shake my head. "No. Just mumbling to myself."

"What have you been reading?" she asks, her words accompanied by an evil smirk. "You look like you saw a ghost."

In a way, I feel like I did. The shock and surprise would be equally strong.

"Nah, I'm just very... tired," I explain.

Yuka shrugs and disappears back into the hall to fiish getting ready for her brunch date.

"Take a nap until I come back," she calls out. "I still want to hear about your date last night."

"Yeah, sure," I mumble absentmindedly.

As usual, she is in a hurry and rushes out the door just a few seconds later, leaving me by myself with that startling article.

I stare again at the magazine in front of me, pondering whether I should read the full article. Maybe I really did see a ghost? Maybe it wasn't Evan after all. I only glanced at the picture for a few seconds – and he could have used this guy’s name to impress me. Maybe he does this sort of thing all the time, taking advantage of his similarity in looks to get away with using Evan Beckharts' name to seduce impressionable young girls like me.

I should at least confirm that my shock is justified and that I haven’t been taken advantage of. Or determine if I should forget about the guy and write him off as a pathetic, deceitful liar.

But if it wasn’t the real Evan Beckhart, how could he afford the hotel then?

Maybe he stole that guy's credit cards, too! Maybe he is a thief – a mobster, as I joked when we were entering the hotel.

I have to know!

I take a deep breath and open the magazine, slowly turning to the page of the article.

Evan Beckhart – smart, handsome, rich, the eternal bachelor?

I am prepared this time and don't shy away as soon as his face appears in front of me. And yes, it is his face. There is no doubt about it. The guy I teased about being your average, boring office slave, the guy who somehow still managed to captivate me and lure me out of the club into his hotel room. The guy with whom I had one of, if not the most amazing sexual experiences of my life.

There is no doubt that the man I spent last night with is the same man as the one who is the subject of this article. The picture of him appears to be taken at some kind of charity event. He is dressed to the nines, sporting an extremely well-fitting black suit with a steel blue tie that makes his dark eyes stand out even more. His hair is styled differently, combed and gelled to the side, but it is definitely him.

The article takes up the entire page, and there is a second photo in the lower right-hand corner. This picture is much smaller than the other one and appears to be a paparazzi shot taken of him and a woman as they left a coffee shop. He has his arm draped protectively around her as he tries to shield her from the photographer. Both of them are dressed casually.

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