Twisted (Never After #4)(38)

“Ti voglio bene, piccolo,” she finishes.

Glancing down at my phone as the voicemail ends, I reach out, pressing the Delete button, a quick flash of guilt mixing in with the other emotions and making me sick to my stomach. Instead of focusing on the feeling, I jump up from my chair and leave my office, heading down to the bottom floor of Sultans’ headquarters where we create the lab-grown diamonds.

We’ve only started manufacturing our own diamonds in the past few years, and it took a hell of a lot of convincing Ali that it would be worth it. He doesn’t think they hold the same value, but it doesn’t matter what he thinks. What matters are the consumers, and after the clean diamond trade act tightened regulations on conflict diamonds, lab-grown gems blew up in popularity.

People want to believe they’re contributing to the good of the world instead of the bad, and synthetic diamonds are a way to market to that need.

Mainly, however, we use the synthetic diamonds to cut and polish the ones mined, and then we sell off a large portion of the rest to third-party sellers.

I walk down the aisles of the discolored concrete floor in the manufacturing warehouse, through the HPHT cubic press machines— giant light-blue machinery with six sides that apply immense heat and pressure to create the synthetic diamonds— and allow my mind to focus on the employees who are clearly aware of my presence, based on the way they’re lingering on the edges of the aisles and not coming to greet me.

Other than the sound of the equipment and a faint beat of music from the offices in the far right corner, it’s quiet.

Truth be told, I don’t come to other departments often, but every once in a while, I make a surprise visit, just to ensure things are running as smoothly as the department managers tell me when I get the weekend reports. Normally, when I show up places, it disrupts the workflow more than helps, because people are on edge when I’m around.

Clearly.

But right now, I don’t really care. I need the distraction from both the tumultuous emotions bleeding through my system courtesy of my nagging mother and from the annoyance of Darryn Anders trying to take what I want.

Something vibrates in my pocket and my footsteps falter. I reach in my pocket and pull out the phone, smirking when I realize it isn’t my cell ringing but Yasmin’s.

Riya flashes across the screen and I silence the call, slipping it back in my pocket, satisfied that it isn’t the boy trying to contact her again. It was easy enough to break into her phone— having her father’s birth date and hers isn’t exactly a difficult passcode to guess— and once I did, it was child’s play putting a stop to Aidan meeting her two nights ago. I simply pretended to be Yasmin and told him something had come up with her father, and when he replied, I left him on read. A tendril of satisfaction wraps around me when I realize that he hasn’t attempted to reach out again.

Foolish boy.

But fortuitous for me, because I can’t have him in my way.

Especially when Yasmin is so close to becoming mine.





Chapter 16





Yasmin





I ordered a new phone, but it won’t get here for another week.

Things have never been more obvious that while I had a fun time in college and boarding school and got along with mostly everyone, I never went out of my way to make lasting friendships with people I could trust beyond Riya, and now that I’m here, back at my home, I’m secluded and alone.

For the past hour, I’ve been sitting at my desk, switching tabs between trying to find a law firm that might consider going up against Julian and my father and a tab to sign up for a social media site.

One of the things my father asked is that I don’t have social media, at least a public profile, because the daughter of a billion-dollar businessman who is touted as one of the most powerful men in the world shouldn’t put herself in the limelight more than necessary. Personally, I’ve never felt the urge to be locked on my phone day in and day out, so I agreed without any issue, preferring to be behind the lens of my camera instead of on a social media app.

But now, my fingers hover over the sign-up button, trembling with indecision.

I’m not sure I’d even be able to find Aidan’s profile, but I just want some way to be able to watch him when he’s so far away in Egypt, see if he posts things so I can feel like I’m at least part of what’s going on.

I imagine that Aidan must be worried sick and going out of his mind by now. Or maybe Julian’s people have told him everything’s fine. But if they’re giving him messages, then there’s nothing stopping them from telling him about the engagement, and the thought of Aidan hearing it that way and not knowing the full story makes me want to puke.

This is all my fault though. There’s no one to blame but myself.

I should have been smarter with my decisions.

Ironic how now that I’ve been backed into a corner with no way out, I’ve found the courage I needed to tell the truth in the first place. But it’s too late now. I won’t put Aidan’s life at risk.

And even though I can’t wrap my head around it and don’t have concrete proof, it seems that Julian had something to do with Alexander’s death.

How many others has he murdered? Would he kill me? My father?

I can’t take the risk.

But I’m panicking.