Twisted (Never After #4)(34)

I make my way down to the staff wing and walk by all the closed doors, picturing the faces of the people who have worked and lived in our estate for most of my life. It hits me that I’ve never taken the time to get to know any of them outside of Aidan.

All these years, and I’ve never even taken the time to get to know his mom that well. At first, because I was a kid who didn’t care, and then later because I was afraid of her knowing that we had grown into something more. I wasn’t sure if she’d be angry at me and lash out by telling my father or by sending Aidan away.

It is odd though, now that I think about it, how he never pushed for us to spend time together, yet he’s so eager for my father to know of him.

Now, I wish that she knew. That she could lend a voice of reason to whatever it is that Aidan and I are getting ourselves into, because it feels like I just keep digging us further and further into yet another hole that I can’t crawl back out of.

Making it to the last door on the left, our usual meeting spot, I walk inside, expecting him to be there waiting already.

But he isn’t.

I reach for my phone, realizing belatedly that it isn’t in my pocket. I scrunch my forehead, trying to remember where I had it last.

At the restaurant, I think.

Shit.

I consider going back to grab it but decide against it, walking farther into the room and sitting on the small twin bed to wait for Aidan to show up.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I let out a yawn, deciding to lie down and rest while I wait for him. I’m sure he’ll wake me up when he gets here.

Only he never does.

And I sleep the night away, only waking when the sunlight beams in through the small window on the far side of the room, sprinkling its rays across my skin with splashes of warmth.

Rubbing my eyes, I sit up slowly, trying to figure out my surroundings.

It’s morning, clearly.

And Aidan never showed.





Chapter 14





Yasmin





I still can’t find my phone, and I can’t bring myself to get in touch with Julian or that creep Alexander to see if they picked it up on their way out. On top of that, I still haven’t seen Aidan, and there’s a kink in my neck from sleeping on that lumpy twin mattress. And right now, I’m sitting at the high barstool at the edge of the kitchen island, listening to the TV drone on in the background, and downing enough coffee to keep normal people awake for a week.

But it’s not doing the job for me.

My father walks in, his face lighting up when he sees me, and he walks over, sitting down in the stool next to me. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?”

I paste a grin on my face even though I know it won’t fool him and sip from my oversize mug. “I slept great. How’re you feeling?”

My eyes soak him in as long as possible, cataloging every single feature and comparing them to how they appeared when I saw him last. Luckily, he looks the same, and I let out a deep sigh of relief that he hasn’t gotten any worse. At least not physically. Not yet.

“I feel good. Ready for my tea,” he says, glancing around.

Aidan’s mom walks into the kitchen from the hallway, and my spine straightens as I take her in. She looks like she usually does, pretty and dressed in black slacks and a light-blue polo shirt, her blond hair pulled back in a bun. She pours my father a cup of tea and places it in front of him before bringing him the newspaper. I wait for some type of acknowledgment, although I’m not sure why I think she’d care to notice my existence. She never has before. But her son didn’t show up last night, and there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that things just aren’t right.

Maybe Aidan talked to her, or she knows something and is here to pass along a secret message.

That’s a wild assumption to make, of course, and like usual, she gives me nothing, not even a small glance before she’s leaving again, disappearing down the hall off the side of the kitchen.

Dammit.

My stomach is in knots wondering where Aidan is and worried that something’s happened. I just know he’s been trying to get ahold of me but can’t because I can’t find my stupid fucking phone.

I glance down into my mug of coffee, trying to center my thoughts, but am distracted by the sound of a Sultans commercial on TV.

“Turn your love from in the rough to spectacular with a Sultans diamond.”

I’m used to seeing ads for Sultans or going to different places and seeing our storefronts large and gleaming in the middle of the cities, so I don’t pay it any mind. It isn’t until my father picks up the remote and turns the volume up for the news that I lift my head, my interest suddenly piqued.

“The back roads of Badour are shut down completely, the Lamborghini unrecognizable from where it was wrapped around the tree.”

“And what about the driver, Tom? Any updates there?”

“There’s a search and rescue team combing the wooded area, but at this time, Diane, no bodies have been recovered.”

The screen changes from the news reporters to drone footage of the country roads just outside downtown Badour, not too far from where we are.

“Looks like a nasty crash,” I say.

My father hums before muting it and staring back down at his paper. “That’s why I prefer other people to drive you.”