Chapter Six Isabella
“It has potential,” Twizz says as we pull up to the last house on the list. He also said that about the first and fifth houses.
In the first house we visited, Twizz felt an evil presence before we even made it past the dark vestibule. “You need to trust my instincts,” he said with a rare sternness and a raised brow. With his hand on my lower back, he led me straight back toward the car.
Once we were back in the car, I looked up the address on my cell phone. Turns out a young boy killed his sister here. It’s crazy that Twizz could sense something was off there.
I don’t know what the fuck happened in the car with him earlier. I must have been lightheaded and deprived of oxygen. I never have and never would allow a client to get so close to me. Maybe whatever caused his hair to turn purple weaved its way into my brain. I’ve definitely lost my mind.
That’s the only thing that explains why I’m allowing him to touch me in intimate ways. Not sexual, just in ways I would if we were close and familiar with each other—which we are not.
“Nope,” Twizz says as I stand at the bottom of the stairway of our final stop of the day.
“What’s wrong with this one?”
“Look around.” He approaches me. “There are walls of windows.”
He’s right. The gardens surrounding the home are picturesque and beautiful. The windows allow you to enjoy them from the inside as well as the outside.
“It’s unusual. That’s what gives it charm. Think of how much money your boss will save on electricity.”
“On lighting possibly, but that will be negated by cooling the house. Plus, he works nights, so he wouldn’t have lights on during the day anyway.”
“Twizz, you’ve told me all the things you don’t like about these houses: the open floor plan, the brightness. You haven’t pointed out anything you do like. “A large foyer, perhaps.” I motion to the area we’re standing in. “High ceilings. Help me help you.”
He inches closer. I take a tiny step backward and find myself looking at him with my back against the wall. Twizz faces me and extends his arms, one on each side of my head, caging me against the wall. His blue eyes pierce me like a spear, holding me in place.
“I think you have a good idea about what I like,” he whispers, running his nose along the column of my neck.
My pulse pounds in my ears and the tips of my fingers. Fear-spiked adrenaline rushes through my system, picking up a heavy dose of desire along the way.
I should push him away. We’re alone in the house, with no one around to help if things take a wrong turn, but I don’t think he means me any harm. This is the very reason I carry mace and keep a firearm in my pocketbook, which is currently on the chest of drawers, three feet away.
“Twizz–” I barely hear my voice. It’s not strong and warning. It’s low and pleading.
“Shh.” He touches his pointer finger against my lips. No, his skin never actually makes contact with mine, but the veil of energy between us weighs against my mouth. I’m not able to part my lips. “You know I won’t do anything you don’t truly wish me to.”
With my insides trembling, I nod. He’s right, I do. But isn’t that what every victim says or thinks before a serial killer dismembers them?
I keep my eyes locked on Twizz, waiting for an aggressive movement so I can meet it with a swift knee to his joystick. As if he knows, he moves incredibly slowly.
Twizz rests one hand on the side of my head.
His pointer finger gently presses behind my ear as his thumb strokes my cheek.
His cool fingers stretching to the back of my neck have a calm effect on my frantic nerves, allowing me to slow my breathing.
I wait with expectation for him to meet my lips with his, preparing for the moment, unsure if I’ll kiss him back or shove him away.
“I think we’re done for today.” Twizz’s hand leaves my head. He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, and it feels like he’s sealing the feeling of letdown inside me.
I nod, angry, unable to find my voice. Disappointment slithers through my veins like dark ribbons of smoke. I should’ve been the one to end it. The one to maintain control and make clear whatever he’s attempting with me is over. I’m his realtor, not a hired date or sex worker.
But if he kissed me—I would’ve closed my eyes.
I would have run my fingers through his purple hair and held him against my body.
So close we’d be pressed together like we were stuck in a vice with no escape.
I wanted to move my hands over his chest to see if it’s as solid as I think it is, and explore his broad shoulders, feeling the dips and valleys that lead across to his neck.
The possibility of that is over. Gone like a puff of smoke. I can’t allow him to get close or touch me again. This isn’t how people behave. Nothing about this man or this day feels normal. I feel like I’m living in a dream, and I’m not sure if it’s a fantasy or a nightmare.
Twizz retreats, moving away from me and freeing me from the invisible cage he temporarily locked me in. I’m left with a cool chill over my exposed skin, where the heat from his body was a moment ago. I’m left feeling gutted and empty, and I don’t understand why.
I don’t say a word as I close the front door and put the lock box back in place. We climb back into my car in silence. I glance at Twizz, who’s watching me curiously.
“Maybe a different agent would be better able to serve–”
“No, Isabella.” He doesn’t allow me to finish. “Only you. I only want you.” I wonder about the double entendre in his words, and why they buffer the sting of rejection he injected into my system.
We drive in silence for a few minutes before Twizz directs me to turn down a street. I hesitate, explaining that I’m not very familiar with the development. I think he knows that’s not the only reason I don’t want to drive around without a destination, so he insists I circle back.
“You wanted to know what I like. These houses are majestic, with a lot more property. This gated one would be perfect if it wasn’t so close to the main road.”
“Yes, but none of these are for sale.”
“But they’re perfect. They’re bigger than the ones you’ve brought me to, and they have much more property.”
“Did you hear me? They aren’t for sale.”
“That’s a minor detail. Park in front of the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.”
Twizz is unbuckled and out of the car before I come to a full stop. He’s halfway up the long driveway before I close my car door.
“Twizz,” he stops and turns to me. “What are you doing?”
“I need to get inside there.”
“You can’t just walk into someone’s house.”
“I know that, but you can ring the bell and ask if they’d be interested in selling.”
“That’s not how this works. We’ll write down the address, and I’ll send a letter—”
“That takes too long. I don’t have time for that.”
“Stop!” I half-whisper-yell, half-plead. You’re going to get me fired!”
“Trust me.”
I shake my head. Trust him? How can I? I don’t know him. I don’t know if he plans to ring the bell and kill the occupants.
“Just ring the bell and follow my lead.”
“You’re crazy. That’s what I’m going to tell them if they ask! In fact, I’m not going to say anything, because I’m leaving.”