Evelyn grabbed her glass of organic juice and took a deliberate, slow sip, determined to enjoy the rare luxury of having Michael Thorn act as her personal waiter. But the moment his low, possessive words registered, the casual declaration that she would be leaving with him tonight, she inhaled sharply, nearly choking on the liquid.
She coughed, her chest heaving as she set the glass down with a sharp click. "Mr. Thorn," she said, her voice dripping with artificial corporate distance as she wiped a stray drop of juice from her lips. "I have a perfectly fine home and a proper place to live. I don't want to impose on your busy schedule."
Michael didn't even look up from the orange slice he was cutting, his silence absolute and unyielding. He wasn't giving her a choice to refuse.
Evelyn's jaw tightened, and she tried a different angle. "Fine. If you won't let me go back to my own apartment, then I'll just go stay at the Sin estate tonight."
