Page 7 of Twisted

His head tilted to the side. “It could have seemed that way.”

“What—um—what did you mean by it?”

“I just meant that the trading world, like the lifestyle, can be—dirty.”

Oh, God. That growl. Colleen could barely breathe.

He continued, “Forums can be dirty. And texting can be dirty. Even phone calls can be . . . dirty.”

The descending timbre of his voice sent shivers over her shoulders and down her arms.

Colleen leaned forward and rested her arms on her desk, still silhouetted by the lamp and tented with the flowing tan gauze. “How dirty?”

On her monitor, the glimmers of light on Twist’s hair moved on her dark screen. His haloed outline faced the camera. His voice was lower, quieter, and deliberate. “You can turn off the video recording if you want to, or you can leave it on.”

Colleen scrambled and clicked off the red button on the recording app. “It’s off.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Are you recording this?” she asked.

“No. Do you want me to?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t.”

“How do I know you’re not?”

A hint of smiling lilted in his deep voice. “You’ll have to trust me.”

Oh, this was a spectacularly bad idea.

He continued, “It must be difficult, herding cats at the forum and having to be in charge all the time.”

“Yes.” Her voice was a little breathless.

Twist asked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if someone else were in charge for a few minutes, and you could just do as you were told?” This time, she was sure he growled deep in his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to be a good little girl and do everything I tell you to?”

Yes. Yes, she would. “I’m not a little girl.”

He paused. The tone in his voice was harder, more biting. “How old are you?”

Yeah, on the internet, anyone could be anything. “What, are you worried that I’m really forty?”

“There’s nothing wrong with forty. I’m worried you’re fourteen.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

“My lower limit is usually twenty-five, but the Bloody Mary I had with breakfast is telling me to make an exception. But prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That you’re at least twenty-three years old. Whilst I might make an exception for a twenty-three-year-old, I won’t for someone not of the US legal drinking age.”

Whilst. He’d said whilst. Wow, that was so British.

“Now, my dear QueenMod, how old are you?”