Twisted (Never After #4)(59)

Smiling slightly at her eager attitude, I leave.

Thirty minutes later, I’m back home, pulling my Audi R8 into the oversize garage and parking at the end of the row. I don’t see Yasmin creeping by the garage door until I’m out of the car and halfway there.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I step up to her, my eyes scanning her from head to toe, trying to see if she feels okay after what we did two nights ago and annoyed that I even care.

She glances at me and then back. “Debating on how pissed you’d be if I stole one of your cars and crashed it.”

I smirk, slipping my hands into my pockets, my fingers brushing against my metal staff. “What’s mine is yours, wife. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t crash. Insurance is a bitch.”

Suddenly, she spins toward me. “Can you arrange a car to take me to brunch on Sunday? Like… with a driver?”

“Just take one. I really don’t care.” I wave my hand toward the row of them. “But if you’re going out in public, Razul’s going with you.”

I expect her to fight against it. Her father didn’t take her security half as seriously as he should have, considering who he is, but she does me absolutely no good if she dies before her father or before I forge a new will in her name.

“Well, he can drive, can’t he?”

My brows lift, surprised by her reply. “Yes. Can’t you?”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Please, don’t be ridiculous. What kind of twenty-three- year-old can’t drive? I just don’t like to.”

I nod, watching her fidget from one foot to the other.

“Who are you going to brunch with?”

This time, her eyes flash and her jaw locks. I wonder if she realizes how much she gives away just by how her body responds to my questions.

“A friend.” She brushes a curl out of her face.

“A woman friend?” I push. I assume it’s the Riya name that incessantly called her while I had her phone and is now foolishly concocting some plan over text messages with Yasmin over how to best me.

She laughs, her eyes wide as she looks at me. “Don’t pretend you care. We both know what this is.”

I step in close to her, the tips of my shoes touching hers and her chest brushing against my torso as she cranes her head to keep my gaze.

“On the contrary, gattina. I care very much.” She licks her bottom lip.

I reach my hand out and wrap it around the back of her neck, my lips ghosting across her ear. “If you embarrass me by seeing another man in public, I’ll take you over my knee and remind you of your place.”

My hand drops like she’s burning me, and I brush by her, lightly grazing her shoulder as I move inside.

I head back to Isabella’s enclosure, not waiting to see if Yasmin follows behind and honestly not caring if she does. Stepping into the room, I walk over and open the side before moving to the chair that’s sitting against the far side of the room. I wait to see if Isabella comes out and eventually she does, her body slithering along the floor until she curls at my feet, her head coming up to my leg. I reach down and give her a pet, an unusual feeling filling my chest.

“I’m a married man, Isa. Can you believe it?” I say. “But don’t be jealous. You’re still my number one girl.”

Isabella’s head rests on my knee and I know it’s ridiculous to keep talking to her, but I do anyway. Over the years, she’s become my closest confidante, my partner in crime, the only living being that I trust implicitly.

“Besides, she’s temporary,” I remind us both.

The words are bitter on my tongue.





Chapter 25





Yasmin





I’ve spent the last four days picking random areas of the house to explore. It’s not as big as my father’s estate— not much is— but it’s still large enough that I get lost.

Besides, it’s rude that Julian hasn’t given me a tour when he expects me to just sit here like a prisoner in solitude all day long.

There’s the formal dining room off the foyer that leads into the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan, which I like, opening to the family room that I’ve been actively avoiding ever since I drank too much a week ago and let the enemy get too close.

There’s a large office on the other side, and I spent all Tuesday afternoon snooping around it, but most of the desk drawers were locked, so it got boring quickly.

Wednesday, I explored the rest of the rooms on my side of the house. There are three more guest bedrooms, a large library with floor-to- ceiling bookshelves, and the small sitting area in the back next to a baby grand piano. It’s beautiful but looks almost completely untouched.

I’ve never really been a reader, but after spending the rest of the evening there getting lost in the classics, I think I might start.

Yesterday, I went on a walk around the grounds, needing to do something other than breathe in the stuffy inside air. I didn’t venture too far, since we’re way up in the hills and surrounded by trees. Plus, I don’t do too well in nature for extended periods of time. I’ve never really been a “let’s go camping” kind of girl.

Today, I’m finally going to venture into the other side of the house, try to find my husband’s bedroom and see into the vulnerable side of Julian Faraci. It’s the one place I’ve been wary of going, but if I’m going to find something that I can use against him, that’s my bet of where it’s going to be.