Twisted (Never After #4)(31)

I hum because I’m sure he has. “If you’ll excuse me, this will only take a moment.”

Standing up from the table, I make my way through the hallway directly behind us and out the back exit to the private alley. It’s a quiet night, other than the sound of cars rushing past on the street out front, and the stars shine brightly in the sky.

I glance up, noticing the full moon and how it spreads light across the cracks of the black pavement.

Withdrawing my phone from my pocket, I call Ian.

“Boss.”

“You’re already wasting my time.”

“I thought you were just having dinner with the girl.”

“Yes, and she’s important.”

There’s a long stretch of silence.

“Ian, you’re testing my patience.”

“I know, I know,” he rushes out. “But this is important. Tinashe’s been blowing up my phone. He said Darryn Anders knows we’re in their territory in Egypt, looking for the lost lamp. He isn’t happy.”

Annoyance bleeds through my posture as I toss my head back to stare at the sky, suddenly remembering that Tinashe tried to tell me about Darryn the other day before Ian cut him off and I hung up the phone.

“Christ, this is what we pay Tinashe for,” I say. “To take care of these things before they become bigger issues.”

Darryn Anders is an obnoxious man who has lots of money and lots of time on his hands. He’s well known in the black market antiquity trade and is one of the main oppositions to people looking for the lost lamp. He’s been doing several digs in Egypt over the past few years, and if he’s upset that we’re there and, even worse, knows we’re looking for the lamp, then he could create problems for both me and Sultans.

And personally speaking, he’s a prick and demands subservience from everyone he meets. I’m not inclined to give it to him, so I try to avoid direct contact whenever possible.

Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Okay, I’ll handle it. Is everything set to go with you and the boy?”

“Yeah,” Ian replies. “We’re on a plane tomorrow morning.” He pauses, and before he even speaks again, I know what he’s going to say. “I wish you’d let me stay with you. I don’t do well in the desert. It’s uncomfy.”

“You’d get in my way,” I say back. “I need to focus on Yasmin, not on making sure you’re comfortable. Egypt is where I need you.”

“Who’s going to run Sultans while I’m gone? You’re prepared to go to all the meetings you hate and listen to all the bullshit instead of having me recap the important pieces after?”

“You hired Ciara, did you not?” I snap, irritated that he thinks he does anything close to running Sultans.

A deep sigh comes over the line. “Okay, boss.”

Hanging up before he can say anything else, I walk back inside to where we were before, planning to try to hurry the dinner along so I can call Tinashe and make sure that Darryn won’t be a problem, but I stop before I hit the table, shrouding myself in the shadows as I listen in on their conversation.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Alexander says, nodding to the plate of food that sits in the center of the table. “Do you enjoy oysters, Yasmin?”

She scrunches her nose, staring at the food like it’s about to attack her. “No, I don’t really like seafood.”

Alexander tsks. “You should try this anyway. You might surprise yourself. You know,” he continues, wiggling his brows, “they’re quite the aphrodisiac. Maybe if you had a couple, you’d loosen up some.”

Yasmin’s spine stiffens.

It’s surprising how much I enjoy seeing her body language shift and change right before she explodes. For the longest time, I didn’t think she had the capability to speak out of turn. She was brought up with decorum bred into her bones, and she usually holds her tongue well, but once she came home from college, I noticed a shift. A spark that’s simmering just beneath the surface, begging to be let out.

I should hate it, but I constantly find myself prodding the kindling instead, seeing if I can make it catch fire.

“That’s hardly an appropriate conversation to have with a stranger,” she snips back.

He laughs. “Please, save your faux outrage. I’m about to effectively buy you, sweetheart. Which, speaking of, when you have my last name, little outfits like these”—he waves his hand toward Yasmin— “are a no-go. I appreciate the view, but it’s bad for my image. You’re far too wealthy to dress so trashy, and my wife won’t be flaunting herself around like a slut.”

Fire bleeds behind Yasmin’s eyes, her hands drawing into fists on top of the white linen table.

Good. Let her see what happens if she chooses to allow her father to pimp her out this way.

That being said, I can’t allow the disrespect to stand. While I don’t personally care if she’s offended, she is here with me, and he’s a fool to think I’ll allow anyone under my protection to be talked down to. Besides, I’ve had enough of these games.

For some reason, this little twit of a girl breaks apart all my logic, splaying me open until I’m vulnerable and greedy, wanting immediate satisfaction and not being able to stop myself from demanding it.

I could continue to try and fight the desire, but honestly, my energy will be better used if I give in and adjust my plan to fit my needs. And my needs are suddenly screaming at me to make sure she knows that she has no choice when it comes to who she marries.