Twisted (Never After Series)

Nobody is awake when we walk into the main building, most likely because it’s the middle of the night. I haven’t been back here since Sultans bought the place, after I convinced Ali we should be the ones who found the lost lamp and that we needed housing for the archaeologists to use as a base in between their excavation digs.

I had forgotten how much of a warehouse it felt like on the inside, but the tin walls and the high ceilings with exposed beams are warmed up by the furniture that’s now placed throughout. Plush couches and a few oversize bean bags are centered around a flat- screen TV, and high bamboo stools are placed beneath the kitchen island.

It’s an entirely open floor plan, no separation from the long rectangular dining table to the kitchen to the living room.

There are two small hallways, one on the right side that leads to two bedrooms and a bath, and then another hallway on the left with the main bedroom. No one uses that unless Ali or I make the trip, which until now, we haven’t.

There are three small cottages that surround the outside of the main common area, where the archaeologists can live comfortably and with a sense of privacy. It hasn’t been a cheap endeavor to find this relic, but it’s one that, if we do, will be worth the cost.

I walk Yasmin straight through the main area without showing her around, both because it’s the middle of the night and also because she’s whipped up a violent storm with her statement that’s raging through my middle and showing no signs of calming.

The largest part of me wants to take her at her word, wants to brand her and fuck her and breed her, just so she can never take it back. I have this indescribable urge to make her say it again and then tie her to me in every way that’s left, all the ways that would make it impossible for her to leave.

But she’s playing a game I’m not sure she’s mature enough to handle, so I won’t believe that things with us have truly changed until she spends some time with the boy. That way, I can watch and see her body language and decide whether she’s playing me for a fool or if she’s truly just as confused as I am.

The thought alone is enough to make me murderous.

However, it’s better to come to terms with reality now than to give myself false hope. I’ve never been someone’s first choice, and I’m not deluded enough to believe that God will show me any favor now.

Men like me don’t get into heaven and we don’t get second chances.

When we reach the bedroom, I lead her inside and finally let go of her hand. I point to the en suite. “Shower.” To the closet on the right. “Clothes.” To the mattress. “Bed.”

Her gaze follows, and she chews on her lip, nodding.

I point to her now. “Stay.”

“Woof,” she barks.

Amusement trickles through my frayed nerves, and I smirk. “Cute.”

“You’re not staying?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Work to do.”

She purses her lips, and I can tell she has more to say. I want her to say it, to convince me to let go of what I think needs to happen and just take her right here and now. But if I do that, then I’ll lock her in this room, kill the boy so he can’t even see her, and then take her home and make her promise to never leave.

And something tells me that would undo any slight chance we may have.

My mind wanders to the will I had made and stowed in my desk drawer back home. I know I’m not going to be able to go through with killing her. I’ve known for a while now and just haven’t allowed myself to think about the fact that when it comes down to it, the things that used to be important to me pale in comparison to her.

I don’t give a single fuck if I inherit Sultans.

Couldn’t care less about the lost lamp.

Not as long as I get to keep her.

Spinning around, I leave the room before I do something I shouldn’t, my chest burning and my throat tight.

I walk back outside and around the front of the building, making my way down the sandy paths that lead to the small cottages, heading to where Jeannie stays. She never replied to my last email, and I’m done playing the waiting game. I put her in this position as the lead archaeologist, and I can take it away just as easily.

Walking up to the front door of the small house, I knock on the dark blue door, pulling out my staff and elongating it so I can flip it around in my hands.

The front window to the left is covered by dark drapes and I notice someone peeking through the edges, thinking I can’t see them peering out.

I slip my free hand in my pocket, waiting patiently, even though I’m counting down from thirty until I break down the door myself and force her to answer. I’m sure she was asleep, but I don’t care.

Right before I hit zero, the door swings open and Jeannie stands in front of me, her eyes wide awake and her bright- blue hair tangled in a messy bun on top of her head.

“Mr. Faraci,” she mumbles, her cheeks growing pink.

I smile and force my way past her until I’m standing in the small living room. “Jeannie, you disappoint me. I put you here”—I  pause and wave my arm around the space— “yet you ignore me like you have no one to answer to.”

She shakes her head, her fists tightening at her sides. “No, Mr. Faraci, I swear…I just, there’s nothing to tell.”

I quirk a brow. “So you haven’t had any luck with the new dig site?”

She swallows, and I don’t miss the way her eyes dart around nervously. “No.”

“And Darryn Anders?”

“He’s an annoyance, but even he didn’t know about the new place I found. He’s just been around the other spots, making it hard for us to get any work done.”

She swallows again, nodding her head, her feet shuffling on the plain shaggy carpet.

“Why are you so fidgety?” I demand, annoyed at the way she can’t stand still for a second. “Do I make you nervous?”

Her forehead scrunches and her tongue peeks out to swipe along her chapped bottom lip. “I just haven’t been feeling so great. Nothing that a good night’s rest won’t fix.”

I tilt my head as I watch her. Something’s off. “Do you need to take a leave of absence?”

She snaps her head up to meet my gaze. “No. Everything’s fine. I promise, I just…I’m on my period. You know how it is.”

“No,” I drawl. “I can’t say that I do.”

I take a step closer, watching as her entire frame tightens like she’s waiting for me to strike. I bend down until she’s forced to crane her neck to look me in the eyes.

“Despite how disrespectful you’ve been by not replying to my emails, I do care about your well-being. If you have something to  tell me, if there’s something going on, now is your chance.”

She’s quiet for a few moments before her movements cease and she stiffens her jaw. “No, Mr. Faraci, everything’s fine.”

I don’t believe her for a second, but I know a losing battle when I see one, and she isn’t planning to tell me anything that’s worthwhile.

“How has Ian been treating you?” I ask instead, pivoting the conversation.

She’s about to come apart at the seams, which makes me think that things are not going well.

Her entire body straightens, her jaw locking up tight. “I’d appreciate it if you’d remind Mr. Godard that I don’t work for him.”

My brows rise. “Technically, you do. You work for me, and Ian is here on my behalf. Is he the one causing you problems?”

She swallows audibly and shifts her head to the side, breaking our eye contact. “He just makes a mess of things is all. He doesn’t help.”

I sigh, nodding as I slip my hands in my pockets. I’m beginning to think that being here entirely is a bust. For everyone involved. Ian isn’t pulling his weight, and clearly my lead archaeologist needs some time off.

Originally, I was here to ensure things were still on track, but with every second I stand here, it sinks in that maybe I should just let everyone pack up and go home.

Maybe it isn’t worth it after all.

What’s the point of it anyway? I don’t care half as much for the lost lamp as I once did, and it’s becoming a headache that’s starting to cause too many issues for me to handle. I don’t want to meet with Darryn or search anymore. He can have the lamp. I have enough already.

“Pack up your things, Jeannie,” I say suddenly.

The words slip from my mouth before the decision has fully formed in my head, but once I say them, I don’t pull them back.

A shocked expression washes over her face. “Are you… firing me?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m closing down the compound entirely.”

Stepping closer to her, I place my hand on her shoulder. She flinches and my stomach jolts, not enjoying the way it feels to touch someone other than Yasmin.

Her eyes meet mine and I try to adopt an empathetic expression. “Go home. Get some rest. You’ve done good work for me, but it ends here.”

She licks her bottom lip and nods slowly.

And I turn around and walk out the door, heading back to Yasmin, a large weight feeling as though it was just ripped off my shoulders from my decision.

When morning breaks, I’m in the kitchen, a cup of hot coffee in my hands, the memory of Jeannie and how on edge she was last night playing on a loop in my head. There’s something going on that she isn’t telling me, and I’m going to figure out what it is. Maybe she’s been here too long, working too much.

Ian and the boy’s voices start filtering down the hall, and I lean nonchalantly against the edge of the counter, waiting for them to get around the corner and notice me.

An ache pulses between my eyes as I watch them with their heads bent together, talking like they’re old buddies whispering secrets. I take a sip of my coffee, my gaze following their every move.

I clear my throat.

Ian’s eyes fly over, his body jerking straight and his gaze going round. It’s just for a moment and then he recovers quickly, adopting a confident swagger as he moves toward me. “Boss, you’re here early.”

“Surprise.” I take another sip of my drink.

My eyes flick to the boy, something hot and sharp stewing in my gut.

“Mr. Faraci,” he mumbles, not willing to meet my eyes.

I ignore him, turning my attention back to Ian as he moves to stand directly next to me, so close it makes my skin itch. I had forgotten how uncomfortable his lack of personal boundaries made me.

Small pitter- patters of footsteps come from the left, the energy shifts, and I know Yasmin is here before I even see her.

Her gaze is trained on me as she walks into the kitchen and a smile breaks across her face. My heart flips because goddamn, she’s beautiful when she’s like this. All sleep mussed and messy.

A sharp intake of breath across the room draws her attention, and her footsteps halt before she gets to me.

Gusts of green whip through my insides and I look away.

“Aidan,” she breathes.

Ian watches me with a curious sheen.

“What?” I snap at him.

“Your meeting with Darryn isn’t until next week,” he replies, sipping from his own mug of coffee. “That’s when I thought you’d be here.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving anyway. Cancel the meeting.” My gaze drifts from Ian to Aidan and Yasmin, now standing right in front of each other, emotion I’m choosing to ignore in both of their eyes.

Yasmin yawns into her hand, and I start to move, grabbing a cup of coffee, but then Aidan walks around the island and does it himself. My stomach cramps, flames exploding in my middle and scorching up my throat.

He grabs creamer from the fridge and mixes it into her cup before walking over to where she is and placing it in her hands.

I purse my lips, watching and waiting, curious to know if she’s going to speak up about him making it wrong. I knew her coffee preference by heart after the second day of living with her. He’s been with her for years and still doesn’t know.

She smiles as she takes it, looking down into the mug and saying a soft “thank you.” She doesn’t bring it to her lips.

“Why’d you come early?” Ian asks.

“Because I can.” I turn around and grab another mug, pouring a fresh cup of coffee before dropping two sugar cubes in the bottom and mixing it with a stirrer.

“Wait,” the boy’s voice cuts in. “We’re leaving?”

Spinning back to face them, I walk over toward where Yasmin stands, briefly casting a quick glance to him. “Yes.”

I pull the mug full of heavy cream from her hands and place the new cup there instead before moving back to where I was and dropping it in the sink.

The boy frowns as he watches Yasmin take a sip, humming at the taste. His eyes flick down to where my wedding band sits and then over to the giant diamond on her finger.

He moves until he’s standing in front of her, shoving his hands into his pockets, his brown hair falling into his eyes.

“Princess, can we talk?”

I clench my fists to keep from reaching out and choking him to death.

She locks her stare on me, her mouth parting slightly and indecision weighing heavily in her features. And I see the yes in her gaze before it falls from her lips.

My teeth grind so forcefully, I feel a molar crack.

I pretend I don’t notice when they walk out the door, not looking back at me once.