Twisted (Never After #4)(50)

Yasmin should go with me to see him. It’s the perfect opportunity for her to step up and show Ali that we’re happier than ever. Picking up the phone one more time, I call her. She forwards to voicemail again. I press redial and finally she picks up.

“What?” She sounds angry.

“Get ready to go. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, and I want you on the front steps waiting.”

She sighs. “Where are we going?”

“To see your father.”

I hang up, knowing that she won’t pass up the opportunity, and walk out of my office, stopping briefly to look at Ciara as she types away on her computer. She looks frazzled, and if I had to guess, I would assume it’s from the extra workload she’s taken on ever since I’ve put Ian on the side mission of keeping the boy occupied. Ian didn’t hire Ciara to be an assistant, but she’s doing a surprisingly good job, and although I haven’t mentioned anything, I plan to give her a raise when he returns.

She glances up at me from her computer.

“Reschedule my meeting with the PR department today. Something’s come up.”

She nods, her lips thin and her eyes downcast.

It takes forty minutes to get back to my house after sitting in traffic, and when I pull up around the circle drive, Yasmin is sitting on the front steps of the house, wearing black sweats that cinch around her ankles and a white hoodie, leaning back on her elbows.

The Audi R8 purrs as I stop in front of her.

“You’re late,” she complains as she slips into the passenger seat.

I sit and stare at her, one of my hands on the wheel of the car and the other resting on my thigh, my gaze involuntarily drinking her up like water in a desert. There’s something about seeing her dressed down like this, like she just woke up from a nap and has nobody to impress, that has my chest tightening and my dick twitching.

“What?” she asks, her brows lifting to her hairline.

I’m thankful for the sunglasses that hide my gaze from her view. I don’t need her knowing how much she affects me. Not until I figure out how to make the feeling go away. I would give anything to go back to before I spied on her and the boy in that room, because before that night, she was always just Ali’s spoiled daughter. Too young and too annoying to even be on my radar. Now…

Things would be much easier for me if I wasn’t suddenly attracted to her.

I put the car in park, leaning over the middle console, the side of my arm brushing against her chest. She sucks in a breath, slamming herself against the back of her seat. My face is almost directly in front of hers now, and the scent of vanilla overwhelms my senses as I reach around her.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she rasps.

Pulling on the seat belt, I drag it across the front of her body, the backs of my knuckles ghosting against her breasts as I buckle her in, then move back to my own seat, gripping the steering wheel so I don’t do something completely out of character like grab her face and shove my tongue in her mouth.

She clears her throat. “Thank you.”

I don’t respond, my teeth grinding as I stare out the front windshield and drive onto the streets.

“We’re really going to see my father?”

I nod, a tendril of worry creeping up my spine when I remember how long it’s been since I’ve even spoken with him. “Have you talked to him?”

Her body slumps against the passenger door, her eyes glazing over as she stares out the window. “No, he hasn’t answered his phone. But I’ve talked to his nurse. She said he’s been sleeping a lot. And she’s upped his pain reliever to keep him comfortable, so he’s been groggy.”

We come to a red light, and I take the opportunity to glance over, unable to ignore the melancholy bleeding from her features. It fills up the car and wraps itself around me, trying to drag me into its depth, but I won’t let it. The last thing I need is to show weakness in front of the enemy. And even though lately Yasmin doesn’t feel like it, that’s what she still is. The enemy.

The one person who is standing in the way of what I want most.

So it doesn’t matter that I empathize, just the slightest bit, with her sadness over losing her father. I won’t let it matter.

“He doesn’t like to have me around when he feels so weak,” she blurts out.

It doesn’t surprise me. Ali’s always been a proud man, making sure he presents only the best version of himself in every aspect. It’s something that I’ve always respected, revered even. Something I molded my own image around based on seeing him do the same.

There’s a strange feeling inside my chest, making me want to say something to ease the hurt on her face, but I tamp it down, staying silent instead until we drive through the security at the estate’s entrance and stop in the front circle drive right by the gaudy fountain.

I throw the car in park and am walking around and opening her door to offer her my hand before she can even unbuckle her belt, and when she slips her palm in mine, allowing me to pull her from her seat, my stomach flips.

She glances at me from under her lashes, a curious gleam coasting through her bright eyes. And she keeps stealing glances as we walk up the front steps together, our hands still entwined, my thumb rubbing against her wedding band.

“Put on a good show and I’ll bring back the boy,” I offer when we reach the door.