Twisted (Never After Series)

I’ve kept Aidan a secret from everyone in my life for years. To the outside world, he’s nothing but a childhood friend. And at first, they were right. I was lonely when I was home, and he was just there. But then before I knew it, he had stolen my heart like a thief, and when I wasn’t sure what the feeling was, he told me it was love.

As I sit across from my best friend, Riya, watching her sip on raspberry Bellinis and moan around twenty- dollar chocolate croissants, I can’t help but wish that she knew. That I hadn’t kept this secret from everyone and had allowed her to be my rock.

Maybe, if I had someone to talk to about everything, I wouldn’t feel so alone— wouldn’t feel like I’m suffocating on air.

“These croissants are nothing but sugar and carbs,” she says as she leans back in the metal patio chair, her black- painted fingernails scratching her stomach. “Worth it though.”

I hum, grabbing my Canon EOS R3 camera, snapping a quick photo of her.

She grins and flips me the bird.

I snap another one, already imagining how good it will look in black and white. Riya’s sass doesn’t need color to bleed through the lens.

Photographing people in their element is my favorite part of taking pictures. There’s something so cathartic about candid photos, capturing a single solitary moment and keeping the emotion alive forever.

“God, I hoped you’d grow out of that after college.” Riya nods to my camera as I set it down beside me.

I grin, picking up my Bellini and taking a sip, letting the bubbles sit on my tongue and mix with the sweetness of the raspberry. “Well, I’d hoped you’d grow out of being a bitch, but we can’t all get what we want.”

She guffaws, tossing a napkin across the table at me. I grin, placing my drink back down.

Riya and I have been meeting for Sunday brunch since our college days out in Oregon. We were roommates there just like we had been for years, having had plans to go to college together since we were little kids running around in the boarding school our parents threw us in.

We connected instantly when we met, both of us coming from wealthy upbringings with strict parents and invisible walls to keep us from straying too far out of line. But where my father gives me everything I could ask for and all the spare attention he has, hers treats her like a ghost, something that can be stowed away and kept quiet with cash. But Riya learned that even bad attention is attention, and she became a troublemaker quickly, craving the acknowledgment it provided.

So when we got to university, she acted out. She was known as a party girl who was hanging on to her diploma by the skin of her teeth and the numerous donations in her parents’ name.

As a result of our differing lifestyles, when we had our first taste of freedom, Sunday brunches became our fail-safe, our weekly check-in. Mainly so I could make sure she made it through the week alive after not coming home to our dorm more than once or twice in a seven- day span.

In Oregon, we were able to find little hole- in- the- wall pubs— hidden gems with bad sanitary habits and killer Bloody Marys. Now that we’re back home in New York, we’ve had to adapt. I had more freedom when I was far away, but my father likes to know I’m safe.

He’s an important man, and important men have lots of enemies.

So we meet here at Bazaar Treats. It’s an upscale place known for their delicacies and overpriced menu, hidden away in the ritzy hills of Badour, New York, where we live.

I’ve never begrudged my father the things he needs to do to take care of me, but just once, I’d love to break through the cocoon and get lost in the streets of New York City. It’s difficult to do when I have to depend on the drivers provided by my dad. I’ve never learned how to drive; there wasn’t really a need, and my father preferred for me to be driven rather than do the driving.

Maybe in another life. Or maybe after he’s gone.

Shame coats my insides when the thought crosses my mind, nausea tossing my stomach like a ship in a storm until buttery flakes of croissant surge up my throat.

How could I think that?

Anger at his request isn’t a reason for selfish thoughts. Evil thoughts. But I’m having a hard time coming to terms with my emotions.

It’s been three days since the conversation with him when he turned my world upside down. Seventy-two hours for anxiety to  fill up every vein until they’re humming, high- pitched, and tight. And I’m no closer to a solution than I was.

My phone vibrates against the top of the table to the right of my empty plate, and I look down, guilt flip-flopping through my chest  when Aidan’s name flashes across the screen. I’ve been avoiding him, not sure what to say— what to do— and not wanting to hear the heartbreak in his voice when I have to tell him what’s going on.

I had hoped to have thought of something by now, something that could save me from this nightmare without hurting every single person that I love, but clearly, that’s not the case.

“What’s up with you?” Riya asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

I shrug, flipping my cell over until it’s facedown. “Nothing. Why?”

Her brow raises until it touches her dark hairline, and she leans over the table, her hand shooting out like she’s going for my phone.

Trepidation surges through me and I grab it clumsily, shoving it in my lap.

I’m not sure why I panic the way I do. She knows Aidan exists. She knows we’ve been friends and that I care for him. In fact, they’ve been friends for just as long, because more often than not, Riya would come to my house for the holidays while her parents were vacationing in the south of France. The three of us bonded the way any kids of the same age with nothing but time and boredom on their hands would.

She just doesn’t know exactly what he means to me. I’ve wanted to tell her a thousand times, but it’s just…too risky. Sighing, I attempt to run a hand through my hair, my fingers getting caught in the curls.

“Mm- hmm,” she snarks, her back slamming into her chair. “You’re a shit liar, you know?”

I grab my champagne flute and gulp back more of my Bellini.

She smirks. “You’re really not gonna tell me?”

Again, my secrets skim the surface of the deep place where I keep them locked up tight, the war inside me weakening my defenses until I can’t fight anymore, especially considering my father’s demand and my promise to Aidan.

“I hooked up with Aidan,” I admit.

It’s not the whole truth, but it assuages the weight of keeping it inside all these years at least.

“And?” She rolls her eyes, barking out a laugh. “What else is new?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I squint.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the white linen of the patio table. “I’m your best friend, Yas. You don’t have to tell me you’re in love with someone for me to know. You two have always been absolute shit at hiding anything.”

My heart stutters, teetering on the edge of a cliff and deep diving through my middle. How long has she known? And if she knows, then does anyone else?

“Yeah, well, my father’s bitch boy caught us the other night.” My cheeks heat and I groan, dropping my head into the palms of my hands, pressing until white dots scatter behind my closed eyelids.

Riya sucks in a breath. “Who, Julian?”

I let out a heartless laugh, my stomach souring at his name.

“The one and only.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.” I chew on the corner of my lip until the skin starts to break. “I don’t think he’ll say anything though. He seemed to like what he saw.”

Riya’s deep eyes widen, her dark gaze sparking and a devious grin spreading across her face. “You slut! You let him watch?”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” I say. “I just…didn’t stop him.”

Once again, revulsion tears its way through my insides, because how the hell could I have possibly let this happen?

She throws back her head and laughs so loudly, the other people on the patio glance our way.

I ball up the napkin she threw earlier and toss it back, shoving away the guilt once again. This time I hope the memory stays away for good. It’s done, and just because I liked the way it felt to have someone’s eyes on me doesn’t mean that I like him.

She sits forward again and brushes her hair off her shoulder. “If I were you, I’d take the opportunity. I bet he fucks like a god. Older men always do.”

“That’s because you’re a selfish bitch.” I grin.

“There’s nothing wrong with putting yourself first.” She shrugs, looking at me with an accusing glare. “You should try it some time.”

Her comment sobers the amusement buzzing through my chest, and I frown at her.

“So that’s what has you zoning out every couple of seconds like you’re drugged?” she continues. “You’re thinking about Julian Faraci?”

“My father wants me to get married.” I rush the words out so fast, I choke on the sudden knot in my throat. I reach out and grab my glass again, downing the last few sips of my Bellini before twisting my head around to scan the room for our server to ask for another.

I’m already buzzed, but not nearly enough for this conversation.

“Oh.” Riya’s voice is flat.

My heart squeezes. “Yeah. Oh.”

“Like…to a stranger?” Her head tilts with her question, but there’s no point in pretending we don’t both already know the answer.

I swallow and nod, a flash of Aidan running through my mind. The guilt settles thick on the back of my tongue. “Well, I don’t know,” I amend. “I was too busy trying to breathe through the shackles being placed on my arms and legs to ask questions.”

“What’s he going to do, line up suitors and have them duel for your hand?”

“I’m not a prize at a fair.” My stomach burns.

She scoffs. “Tell him that.”

My palms grow clammy and I wipe them off on my lap, unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “He’s dying, Riya. He’s never asked much from me, and I…” Blowing out a breath, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “He just wants to make sure I’m taken care of.”

Riya hums, her head bobbing. “So you give up your life for his?”

“He’s my only family,” I whisper, my fingers tightening until they feel like they might break. “He’s all I have left.”

“You still have yourself,” she answers back. “You shouldn’t have to give that up too.”

Her words cut like a serrated knife slicing through my gut, because it feels like there’s nothing I can do to keep my world from free- falling off its axis.

But that’s not exactly true.

If I can just get my father to see that Aidan is a good man, that he’s the man for me, then maybe I can keep everyone happy. And in order to do that, I need to suck it up and go ask for help from the last person on earth I want to deal with.

I need to go see Julian.