Twisted (Never After Series)

I still can’t find my phone, and I can’t bring myself to get in touch with Julian or that creep Alexander to see if they picked it up on their way out. On top of that, I still haven’t seen Aidan, and there’s a kink in my neck from sleeping on that lumpy twin mattress. And right now, I’m sitting at the high barstool at the edge of the kitchen island, listening to the TV drone on in the background, and downing enough coffee to keep normal people awake for a week.

But it’s not doing the job for me.

My father walks in, his face lighting up when he sees me, and he walks over, sitting down in the stool next to me. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”

I paste a grin on my face even though I know it won’t fool him and sip from my oversize mug. “I slept great. How’re you feeling?”

My eyes soak him in as long as possible, cataloging every single feature and comparing them to how they appeared when I saw him last. Luckily, he looks the same, and I let out a deep sigh of relief that he hasn’t gotten any worse. At least not physically. Not yet.

“I feel good. Ready for my tea,” he says, glancing around.

Aidan’s mom walks into the kitchen from the hallway, and my spine straightens as I take her in. She looks like she usually does, pretty and dressed in black slacks and a light- blue polo shirt, her blond hair pulled back in a bun. She pours my father a cup of tea and places it in front of him before bringing him the newspaper. I wait for some type of acknowledgment, although I’m not sure why I think she’d care to notice my existence. She never has before. But her son didn’t show up last night, and there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that things just aren’t right.

Maybe Aidan talked to her, or she knows something and is here to pass along a secret message.

That’s a wild assumption to make, of course, and like usual, she gives me nothing, not even a small glance before she’s leaving again, disappearing down the hall off the side of the kitchen.

Dammit.

My stomach is in knots wondering where Aidan is and worried that something’s happened. I just know he’s been trying to get ahold of me but can’t because I can’t find my stupid fucking phone.

I glance down into my mug of coffee, trying to center my thoughts, but am distracted by the sound of a Sultans commercial on TV.

“Turn your love from in the rough to spectacular with a Sultans diamond.”

I’m used to seeing ads for Sultans or going to different places and seeing our storefronts large and gleaming in the middle of the cities, so I don’t pay it any mind. It isn’t until my father picks up the remote and turns the volume up for the news that I lift my head, my interest suddenly piqued.

“The back roads of Badour are shut down completely, the Lamborghini unrecognizable from where it was wrapped around the tree.”

“And what about the driver, Tom? Any updates there?”

“There’s a search and rescue team combing the wooded area, but at this time, Diane, no bodies have been recovered.”

The screen changes from the news reporters to drone footage of the country roads just outside downtown Badour, not too far from where we are.

“Looks like a nasty crash,” I say.

My father hums before muting it and staring back down at his paper. “That’s why I prefer other people to drive you.”

I hold back the annoyance at the reminder that I never learned how to drive, but it blossoms in full force anyway when Julian walks through the hall and into the kitchen like he owns the place.

Groaning, I tilt my head back. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

He grins as he makes his way into the room, leaning his elbow on the island across from me and plucking a grape from the fresh fruit platter that was set out when I first came down.

“Just making sure you don’t miss me too bad.” He winks and then turns his attention to my father. “Good to see you up and moving around, old man.”

“Hmm,” Baba grunts, glancing between the two of us. “How did dinner last night go?”

“Yeah, speaking of, I thought you’d be there,” I cut in.

My father’s face softens. “I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“You could have told me at least.”

He waves his hand in front of him like it’s no big deal. “I didn’t want you to see me that way.”

I sigh, irritation nagging at my middle. “Baba, I want to see you in any way.”

“Enough,” he replies, causing me to jerk back at the harsh tone. “Tell me how last night went.”

I place my coffee on the counter and fist my hands in my lap. “It went fine.”

Julian isn’t even paying attention, popping another grape in his mouth as he watches the drone footage of that Lamborghini crash.

“Fine?” my father repeats. “That’s all I get?”

Shrugging, I look over to him. “He wasn’t my type.”

“He was a disaster, Ali,” Julian interjects. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even set them up.”

“He’s an upstanding man, Julian,” Baba argues. “I’d think you’d want someone in her life who knows how to present themselves around important people.”

Julian’s brows rise and he turns to face my father fully. “And why would that matter to me?”

“Because they’ll own Sultans.”

My lungs cramp, and a pregnant pause fills the air.

Julian’s jaw twitches. “Ah, of course.”

I watch Julian carefully, noticing the tensing of his body and the forced grin.

He clearly doesn’t like that, and his offer to help me is exactly what I suspected, merely to help his own agenda. He doesn’t want to help me; he wants what’s being left to me.

Hatred swirls deep in my gut like a witch’s brew, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out and saying something I’ll regret.

Julian flicks his gaze to the TV again, nodding toward it. “I’m pretty sure that’s the same car our very own Alexander Sokolov was driving away in last night.”

“What?” I gasp.

My eyes lock on Julian’s.

He smirks. “Sure hope nothing bad happened.”

My mouth drops open, revulsion crawling through my insides like spiders.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence,” my father says, rising from his stool. “But I’ll go put in a call just to double- check.”

Julian murmurs his agreement. “Good idea, old man. He’d been drinking heavily. I tried to convince him to let me drive him home, but he wouldn’t listen.”

I sit with a dead stare as my father walks out of the room, shock filling up my bones and sticking me in place like I’m sinking into quicksand.

“Oh, come on, Yasmin. Don’t look so surprised.” Julian chuckles, popping another grape into his mouth.

“Did you do this?” I manage to rasp.

His brow lifts, and he makes his way around the island until he’s standing directly in front of me, so close that his legs are on either side of my thighs. “I’m afraid death is part of life, gattina.”

I narrow my eyes, something sick settling heavy in my gut.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you want it to mean.”

My mouth is as dry as sandpaper, and I unstick my tongue from the roof, slowly licking my lips. I’m afraid to voice the next question, but I can’t not ask. “Where’s Aidan?”

“On a plane,” he replies simply. “Happy as can be with a belly full of high- end champagne and the promise of a better life on the horizon.” He pauses, tilting his head the slightest amount. “He’s with my assistant, Ian, who is loyal to a fault. Overeager to help me with any…difficulties that might get in my way.”

I nod, even while my stomach drops to the floor, hopelessness filling me up like wet rocks. His implication is more than clear.

But is he really capable of that?

Of course he is. I’m no stranger to the darker side of my father’s life and the company he keeps, despite Baba trying to keep me from it.

It’s too late to go to my father. Julian has Aidan, and I have…

“Have you thought any more about my offer?” he continues, stepping in even closer and reaching out to cup my cheek with his large hand.

I swallow, forcing back the burn that’s growing behind my eyes.

“Are you going to kill him?” I hate how weak my voice sounds, desperation clinging to every syllable.

His thumb brushes across my jaw, sending fear spiking against my spine. “Not if you cooperate.”

My throat tightens and my heart beats wildly in my ears, but I force myself to look up and meet his eyes anyway. “What do you want?”

He smiles, his grip tightening until it stings. “You.”