Twisted (Never After #4)(20)

The same way she does around her father.

“There’s something her father wants,” I say.

It’s a tiny, little white lie. Ali doesn’t care about the lamp half as much as I do or about expanding Sultans into other avenues outside diamonds, but it will work in my favor if they think it’s Ali with the motivations. Easier to get Aidan out of the way so I can move in and steal his little prize pussycat for myself.

Moving my hand from my pocket, I bring it up to my face, staring at the cuticles on my fingers. “Unfortunately, the man overseeing the operation has to go home for some personal issues. And I can’t find the will in me to care enough to travel myself.”

“Diamonds?” Aidan asks, curiosity brimming the edges of his voice.

I flick my gaze to meet his briefly. “No. We’re expanding beyond the diamond trade, or at least we’re attempting to. There’s a lamp. A relic. One that Ali is desperate for but hasn’t been able to find. It’s priceless really, worth hundreds of millions easily in a black market auction. If we secure it for ourselves, then Sultans will gain footing in the antiquity market. You can imagine how appealing that is, I’m sure, considering it’s Ali’s legacy we’re talking about.” My legacy.

“I’ll find it,” Aidan is quick to reply.

Fool. As though he’d be able to find the most wanted lost relic of the ages with no experience and no one to guide him.

“I can’t guarantee you ever will. You don’t have any of the skills necessary, and people will absolutely talk about how you aren’t qualified to oversee the digs. You’ll need to rely on Jeannie, our lead archaeologist, who’s there, and my assistant Ian, who I’ll send with you.” I quirk a brow, leaning in slightly. “But if you do find it…”

Aidan’s body mimics my movements, hanging on to my every word like they’re his lifeline. “I’d gain Mr. Karam’s favor,” he concludes.

I lick my lips and gesture toward Yasmin. “Find the lost lamp, and you’ll get the girl.”

Aidan’s face lights up, his eyes wide as he nods, but Yasmin is looking at me with suspicion. She’s dropped Aidan’s hand to cross both arms over her chest, her heeled shoe tapping against the floor in an irritating rhythm, that obnoxious little glare marring her otherwise flawless face.

I ignore her glare and the way my hand tingles with the need to flip her over my knee and show her what being a brat gets her.

It’s not quite that easy, of course. Aidan will need to be integrated into the system we already have in place. He’ll need to meet Jeannie, our lead archaeologist on-site, and get her to allow him to shadow her, even though he has no clue what he’s doing and will most likely only get in her way. But my goal isn’t for him to actually find the lamp, although if by some miracle he does, even better. I just need him far away and out of Yasmin’s reach, yet still under my thumb so I can use him to control her.

“So I’ll be basically working for you? For Sultans?” he asks.

“Under the table, of course. You’ll be paid in cash similar to the other people we have at the compound in Egypt. Can’t have you on official payroll for something like this. But if you find it, then…” I lift a shoulder. “Who knows what the future could hold.”

The boy’s face is lit with promise, and I wonder how much Yasmin really knows about him.

“Do we have a deal?” I press, reaching out my palm.

He stares at it for a few seconds before placing his hand in mine.

My eyes flick to Yasmin. Her head is tilted to the side, and her gaze is bouncing from the boy and back to me, like a seesaw, unsure of where to focus.

There’s something going through that normally empty little mind of hers, but I can’t find it in me to care what it is. Let her think I’m either up to no good or her savior; it really makes no difference either way. Once I have her lover boy in my grasp, she’ll bow to my demands whether she likes it or not.





I’ve just entered the lobby of Sultans’ headquarters, which sits in the largest skyscraper directly in the center of Badour, New York, but before I can make my way to the elevator that leads to the eighty-ninth floor, which is exclusive to my offices and those who work directly beneath me, I see a blacked-out Maybach pulling up to the curb.

It’s still incredibly early, the morning sun just rising beyond the horizon, the yellow headlights of the car cutting a muted glow through the dewy mist that fogs up the quiet city streets.

I’d know the car anywhere, but even if I didn’t, there’s only one other man who would arrive at an office before anyone else is even awake for the day, and that man promised me he’d be staying home in the future, allowing his body to rest.

Something pinches in my stomach when I see Ali’s driver exit the front of the car and walk around to the back, opening the door and allowing Ali himself to step out of the vehicle.

I’m tempted to head over there and demand he go back home, allow his nurse to tend to him while I continue to do the heavy grunt work here, but then I think of what I’d feel if the situation were reversed. No amount of words will stop a man when there’s determination thrumming through him like blood in his veins.

Still, I’m annoyed enough at the disregard for his health that I don’t want to speak to him yet, and then I get even more frustrated that I care about him at all, so I spin around and press the elevator button, stepping inside and making my way to my own floor.