Twisted (Never After Series)

It’s Saturday afternoon, and it’s been less than ten minutes since Aidan texted me that he was on the way to meet Julian at some hole- in- the- wall restaurant in the middle of Badour to talk more about his new employment.

And I’m…irritated.

His employment, like I’m supposed to just take a back seat and let the men in my life handle everything. Besides, Aidan doesn’t have any clue what he’s really getting himself into. My father may not tell me anything about what it is he does, but I know enough to know that danger goes hand in hand with diamonds and money, and while I was brought up in this world, Aidan wasn’t. He was sheltered, treated as nothing more than staff. He’s too innocent and good to be mixed up in the seedy underbelly of whatever it is Julian and my father get up to.

If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m a course deep into lunch with my father, I’d be putting up more of a fuss, demanding to know where they are so I could sneak away and meet with them. Just to keep an eye on things and feel like I’m still taking part in huge decisions that affect my future too.

But since time with my baba is more important than literally anything else, I have no choice but to give in and allow myself to trust. And I do trust Aidan. It’s just that snake Julian who puts me on edge.

I don’t even really have a basis for my suspicions other than the general vibe he gets off on giving, the way he’s always so easily gained my father’s favor over me, and the way he gets attention and praise when I have to work so hard to be treated as more than just a shiny beloved trophy my father can put on his shelf.

Plus, until very recently, he’s always been mean to me at best and downright cruel at worst.

He’s a prick. And I don’t believe for a second that he’s doing this out of the goodness of his heart. I just don’t know what he’s trying to accomplish, so not being there to hear every scheme that he’s going to try to rope Aidan into makes me sick.

“You okay, habibti?” my father asks, keeping his eyes trained on the view and not on me.

I snap a quick photo of him as he stares out at the yard from his private room’s Juliet balcony and then set down my phone, reaching across to grasp his hand in mine. “I’m perfect, Baba. Just making memories.”

“Always stuck with your head in the clouds,” he chuckles. “Just like your mother.”

He doesn’t talk about her often, I assume because it’s still too painful. All I know beyond the few photos I’ve seen as a child is they met years ago when he was visiting Iran on business, and she left to come to the United States with him only weeks later.

Something hits the center of my chest. It doesn’t hurt. It never does when he brings her up. It just feels incomplete, like a gaping hole that’s never been filled, so I don’t know what I’m supposed to be missing.

But beyond that feeling, there’s something else sneaking into the moment. A whisper of opportunity, telling me to use his past with my mother to make him see that what he’s asking from me isn’t right. Isn’t fair. If I can just get him to see things my way and open him up to the idea of Aidan and me.

I’d do almost anything not to have to depend on Julian.

“Tell me again how much you loved her,” I say.

“I still love her.” He blows out a breath, gripping my hand tighter for a moment before releasing it completely and leaning back in his chair. “Your mama is in everything I do. Every breath I take, every thought that crosses my mind.”

He pauses, and I soak in his look, the way his eyes are tense with longing and his soul seems tired and worn.

“Every time I look at you, I see so much of her,” he continues. “She was a strong woman, and I’m proud to call her mine.”

I swallow over the rocks in my throat, words begging to drip off my tongue. “Then, Baba, how can you ask this of me? How can you have the love you did with Mama and ask me to give up on that chance?”

His eyes grow dark and he shakes his head. “Your mama was the love of my life, but you’re mistaken if you think we weren’t arranged.”

Shock pummels through my middle, the string of hope slipping through my grasp. “What?”

He nods, a slight cough pouring from his mouth. He tries to cover the noise by taking a sip of his tea. “Sometimes the greatest love comes from the most unlikely of places.”

I sit back in my seat, not knowing what to do or what to say. This was my ace in the hole, the way I was going to segue into Aidan, into making my father see reason. But this whole time, his wish for me was borne from his own experience, not in spite of it.

“Don’t you think it’s possible that you and Mama were just lucky?” I try again, testing the waters without diving in headfirst.

He hums as he takes another drink of tea. “There are a lot of people in this world who would do anything to live the life you do.”

“I know,” I reply.

“Do you?” He tilts his head. “The blood in your veins makes you a very valuable person. People, even the ones you think you can trust, are blinded by greed and seduced by the promise of power.”

My stomach tenses. “And the one you marry me off to won’t be?”

“No,” he replies simply. “I would never pair you with a man in need of money or power. Just someone who will treat you well and carry on my legacy. Someone who will protect you from the harsh world of my business and take care of you while he does, because I won’t be here much longer to do it.” He leans forward again, reaching out to pat the top of my hand with his. My eyes follow the movement, locking on the dark bruises from IVs that linger on his skin. “You’ve never let me down before, Yasmin. I know you won’t let me down in this.”

My eyes burn and I grit my teeth, but I don’t speak up again, choosing instead to nod and flip my hand around, threading our fingers together. But my heart splits, desolation smashing against it like a wrecking ball because this means that Julian’s already won, and I haven’t even figured out what game he’s playing.

I have to depend on him. I have to need him.

Just the way he wanted.

I expected Aidan to check in with me hours ago, but it’s evening now, and he still hasn’t. I’m soothing my anxiety, telling myself repeatedly that he’s busy, and it’s okay if we don’t always talk. I left him on read for three days, so I know it’s hypocritical for me to be mad. But I can’t help how I feel. I chew on the inside of my cheek as I glance at my cell that I threw haphazardly on the mattress.

Maybe I should try to call him.

Moving from where I’m pacing a hole in the carpet of my room to the bed, I swipe my phone from the top and sit down, my leg brushing against the cream drapery hanging from the corner of my four- poster bed. I open immediately to my texts to Aidan. Still nothing.

I try to call him, the phone ringing in my ear one, two, three times before it’s sent to voicemail.

My chest twists. I text again.

Me: Everything ok?

Silently, I stare at the screen, willing the three dots in a bubble to appear, showing me that he’s responding. But watching the blank screen is like waiting for water to boil, so I groan, tossing my phone down again and walking over to the full- length mirror tucked in the corner of the room next to the bay window. My hair is thrown up in a messy bun, the large silk scrunchie doing a terrible job of keeping my curls contained, and I’m dressed down in my black sweats and a baggy shirt that says Oregon State across the chest. I look tired. Stressed. Thank god for makeup.

My phone pings and I spin quickly, rushing to my bed and grabbing it, disappointment pricking the hope that was swelling in my chest like a popped balloon when I see it’s Riya.

Riya: What’s the word, bird?

She’s my small sliver of light in this mess. It feels good having her on my side, finally not keeping secrets from her the way I have for years.

I spin around and take a selfie showcasing my sweats.

Me: Trying on outfits for my potential hubby. Think this one will work?

Riya: Wow. Really sticking it to the man there, Yas. You should break a couple nails to complete the look. Show them what they’re getting with the daughter of Sultans.

I scoff, looking down at my almond- shaped red manicure, wincing at the thought of not having them well-maintained. Pass.

Someone knocks on my bedroom door, and I drop my phone and rush to answer it, hoping that somehow Aidan has slipped into my wing of the estate. But I know it’s a pipe dream. Aidan never comes to my room. There’re too many people who could see; it’s too risky.

I swing the door open, and Julian is standing on the other side, his head cast down, inky black hair on full display, one of his arms propped against the right side of the doorframe. His eyes slowly move from the top of my bare feet, up my legs, over my baggy shirt, until he finally meets my gaze.

“Of course, it’s you,” I sneer.

“Ciao.” His forearm flexes as he forces his way into my room, tattoos peeking out from beneath his rolled- up sleeve.

“Please.” I wave my arm dramatically before shutting the door behind him. “Make yourself at home.”

He plops down on my bed, his body bouncing slightly on the mattress. “Such a wonderful host. Do you always welcome men into your bed so lovingly?”

I squint my eyes, irritation stabbing at my middle like a dull knife. “Are you implying I’m a whore?”

His head jerks back. “That’s a pretty wild conclusion to take from what I said. Are you sure you don’t have something heavy weighing down your conscience? Guilt, perhaps, over your harlot ways?”

My cheeks puff out with my breath as I close my eyes and try to keep from walking over and smacking him in the face. “Are you sure you’re thirty-six? You act like a prepubescent boy who isn’t  getting his way.”

He doesn’t reply this time, simply cocking his head, his dark eyes sparking as he stares at me with a maniacal grin on his face.

“Quit looking at me like that,” I demand, fidgeting from his gaze. “Where is Aidan?”

His playful smirk drops, and he leans back on his elbows, the mattress bowing slightly underneath him. I cringe at the sight of him on my bed, side-eyeing the sheets and making a mental  reminder to have them changed so they don’t smell like him when I try to go to sleep.

He shrugs. “Busy packing, I assume.”

My stomach drops. “I’m sorry, he’s what?”

“He didn’t tell you yet?” His face shows genuine surprise. “I’m sending him to Egypt with my assistant, Ian.”

“He wouldn’t leave without telling me,” I reply.

“Of course not.” His voice is sarcastic, and he stands, moving toward me, waving his arms in the air. “They’re going to hunt down the lamp that will grant all your wishes, giving you both your happily ever after.”

I back up, not wanting him to get close.

He smirks, his footsteps halting. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Please,” I scoff. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. I just know you have a nasty habit of coming into spaces where you’re not wanted.”

His smile drops completely then, and he walks forward, doing the exact thing I just told him he would. Getting into my space.

My breath hitches in my throat at the dangerous glint in his eyes, so similar to the fire that was burning in them the night he watched me get fucked by another man, and I curse my stupid, traitorous body for reacting to him at all.

He doesn’t miss the action, and I hate the way it makes me feel like he, once again, has gained the upper hand.

“Oh, gattina.” He chuckles, ghosting his finger down the apple of my cheek until he’s cupping my jaw. “If I come, I promise, you’ll be begging for it.”

My heart trips.

“You better get used to me here,” he continues. “Your father only has a couple of months left, and I’d hate to see what happens if you aren’t under my protection once he’s gone.”

Maybe I should take more stock in the thinly veiled threat, but the words “couple of months” and “my father” in the same sentence have me suddenly struggling to breathe too much to focus on anything else.

I reach up, my hands brushing against his broad chest as I push him away.

He goes willingly, backing up a few paces and running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What do you mean, a couple of months?” I force out.

“I mean your father is a very sick man, Yasmin. Or are you living in a delusional world where he isn’t going to die any day?”

His words attack my chest like splinters, plunging deep and sharp. “I don’t…” I shake my head, pressing the back of my hand to my overheated face. “He has more than a couple of months, Julian, please.”

Julian blows out a breath, his eyes calculating, as though he’s trying to decide whether I really believe what I’m saying. But why wouldn’t I? I know he’s sick and that he’ll eventually get worse until he passes, but to pretend he’s worse off than he is, it’s just cruel. I know realistically, hospice is a six- month death sentence at best, but…a couple of months?

Slowly, Julian steps back in again, his hand reaching out and cupping my cheek, lifting my face until I meet his solemn stare. “He doesn’t, gattina.”

I blink rapidly to clear the sudden fogginess from my eyes, the warmth of his touch sending ripples of unexpected comfort through me.

The feeling catches me off guard and I rip my face away. “How the hell would you know?”

He smirks. “Upset that Daddy didn’t tell you first? Looks like you’re not the favorite after all.”

I stuff down the storm that brews at his words and shake my head. “It doesn’t make any sense. He wouldn’t expect me to get married in…” I pause, my brows furrowing. “He only has a couple of months?”

Julian nods. “Listen, we can hope that Aidan will find the lamp in time. I’m sending him to Egypt with my best people. But if I haven’t been able to uncover it by then…”

He trails off, but I know what he’s saying. Odds are low that Aidan will find it at all, let alone within the amount of time we need.

“So I’m fucked,” I deduce. “This is your fault. You’re the one sending Aidan on this stupid mission that he isn’t even qualified to be on instead of helping me find a better solution.”

“You could always just tell your father the truth.”

Silence rings through the air. That seems so simple, doesn’t it? But after our meal together, the thought of it sends me into a tailspin. My breaths start coming quicker and my stomach cramps until I’m resisting the urge to physically curl into myself.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

Julian slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “There is another option.” He shakes his head. “No, never mind. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Annoyed, I hiss, “Don’t assume you know anything about me.”

“Fine.” His brows rise. “If Aidan doesn’t find the lamp in time, you could marry me instead.”

My mouth drops open in shock, and I stare at him blankly, waiting for the punchline. Only he doesn’t give me one.

Uncontrolled laughter bubbles in my chest and surges up my throat, escaping into the air. “Are you kidding me right now? Why would I ever marry you?”

“I told you that you wouldn’t be interested,” he replies. “But it does make the most sense, in my opinion. You convince your father you’re in love with me. It gets him off your back and keeps you from having to tie yourself to someone who’s expecting the world.”

I tilt my head and watch him. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” he replies.

“I mean…you’re just willing to go along with it? I don’t believe there’s a selfless bone in your body, Julian Faraci. What do you get out of this? What’s the trick?”

He tsks, shaking his head. “No tricks. Just me wanting to get Ali’s attention off you and back on things that matter.”

My chest cramps, but I push the jealousy over Julian’s relationship with my father to the side. “I’m not marrying you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying we pretend. For a little while, until the boy returns with the lamp. Unless, of course, you’d rather be paraded in front of suitors until your father takes his last breath.”

“And when he wants a wedding before then?” I ask.

Julian grins. “Then we give him one. Doesn’t mean it has to be signed on the dotted line.”

What he’s saying is ridiculous, but I can’t deny the idea has some merit. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out, because I genuinely have no clue what to say.

He wants to pretend.

Make believe that I’m in love with Julian? The thought alone makes me want to choke.

But what other choice do I have? I already know that my father has been setting up suitors, and I’m not naive enough to think that Julian wouldn’t know the ins and outs of his plans, especially knowing that my father confided in him over the extent of his illness when he won’t even let me be on the sidelines giving support.

My stomach cramps when it sinks in that Julian was the one who told me about my father, when I was just with him this morning and got nothing but silence and a pat on the hand. I suck in a stuttered breath, steeling my spine for what I know I have to do.

I can’t fall out of my father’s favor, not when there’s so much at stake, but if I have to go on dates like I’m a prized broodmare, I think I might lose my mind.

And it’s just pretend.

I can fake anything for a while. Especially if I know I’ll get Aidan in the end.

Julian walks toward me, using his fingers to tip my mouth shut. “Think about it. You know where to find me. But I’d urge you not to waste too much time, because you don’t have very much left.”