Twisted (Never After #4)(15)

“Again, Mr. Faraci is a very busy man,” she says through a pinched smile. “You can set up an appointment, but that’s all I can offer.”

Yasmin sighs. “Fine.”

Ciara bobs her head, leaning down to tap on her computer. They still haven’t noticed me, and I take the time to really soak in Yasmin’s appearance. She’s dressed impeccably, as she usually is, her baby-blue pantsuit a gorgeous contrast against her brown skin. Her hair is down, wild and curly, and every time she moves, it bounces. Her teeth sink into the corner of her lips, her eye makeup accenting her expressive gaze, which is trained on Ciara as she taps away on the keyboard.

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing coming up right now.” Ciara smiles up at Yasmin. “Maybe you should give us a call later and we can try to work something out.”

“This is ridiculous,” Yasmin snaps. “I know he’s here, and I only need to see him for a second. He’ll most likely be at my house tonight. I— ”

Ciara’s face drops in a flash, her mouth parting as she sucks in a breath.

I smirk, knowing that Yasmin just inadvertently implied we were sleeping together.

“Look.” Yasmin sighs again, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to have to go above you, and I really don’t want anyone to get in trouble.”

She leans in, resting her hands on the top of the desk. Her back arches slightly with the motion, and the side profile of her bent over my office furniture sends a rush of heat through me. I could walk up behind her right now, press into her while I grasp her curly hair in my fist and feel her ass grind against my dick. I could rip off her pantsuit and take her right there, just like that, hitting spots inside her that the boy could only dream of.

I turn my eyes away, annoyed that once again, I’ve lost control of my thoughts.

“I know you don’t believe me,” she continues, her voice lower than before. “But you will get in trouble if I decide to make a scene. If you’d just tell him Yasmin is here— ”

“Then he’d be more than willing to clear his schedule for the rest of the day,” I interrupt, standing up straight and moving farther into the room.

Both of the women jerk their attention to me.

“Mr. Faraci, sir,” Ciara mumbles, her back going ramrod straight.

I pay her no mind, keeping my eyes on Yasmin as she straightens from where she was bent, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at me. Something coasts across her features, making them soften ever so slightly, like she’s relieved I’m here.

Good. She’s needing me already, even if she doesn’t want to be.

I walk across the marble floors until I’m directly next to Yasmin. I glance down at her, breathing in her soft vanilla scent. My abs tighten and I move my gaze from her over to my receptionist. “I expect my employees to know when the daughter of Ali Karam is standing in my office.”

Ciara’s eyes widen. “Sir, I— ”

“This woman,” I cut her off, “is allowed to interrupt me any time of the day. For any reason. Understood?” She swallows and nods.

“Good.” I smile, reaching out and placing my hand on Yasmin’s back, twisting her in the direction of my office and pushing lightly.

Ian, who has been standing and watching silently, scrambles out of the doorframe, his eyes calculating as he watches me lead her.

Surprisingly, Yasmin doesn’t fight my touch, and it isn’t until I close the door behind me, shrouding us in privacy, that she jerks out of my hold, her eyes narrowed into slits as she presses her back against the closed door.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she demands.

A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Like what?”

She tilts her head, staring at me. “How long were you just standing there like a creep, watching me struggle?”

“A while.” I shrug. “I was curious.”

“About?”

“Maybe I was waiting to see if the two of you would get into a sexy cat fight.” I wink. “My money’s on her, although I’d enjoy watching your claws come out.”

She scoffs, tapping her foot on the floor and crossing her arms. “You’re disgusting.”

I move toward her, wanting to rile her more because I like the way it makes me feel to see her on edge and bothered. Leaning down, I reach around the side of her body, so close I can feel the heat from her skin.

“And you’re pretty when you come,” I whisper.

Her breathing stutters, and I flick the lock on the door, then turn around and walk across the room until I’m leaning on the lip of my desk, facing her.

“I was also curious about whether you’d use your name to see me,” I continue.

She takes a step toward me. “I don’t use my name to get my way.”

“What a waste,” I reply.

She huffs, shaking her head. “You would think that.”

“Your name is your power, gattina. If you wanted to, you could rule the world.”

Her brows draw down before a laugh pours from her mouth. “Oh my god. You’re fucking delusional.”

My smile drops, something dark hitting me in the chest with her insult. “I prefer the term ‘visionary.’ Regardless, you’re here, so I assume you’ve decided to lick your wounds and play nice?”