Page 70 of Twisted (Never After)

The other end of the line is deadly silent.

Shaking it off, I purse my lips, annoyed at my outburst. “That’s my wife. I can’t allow you to disrespect her.”

“But she’s— ”

“The plan hasn’t changed,” I interrupt. “Set up the meeting. And wait. You’ve been extremely disappointing lately. Don’t let it happen again.”

I press End, tossing the phone down in irritation before grabbing my jacket off the coatrack and walking out of the room to go home.

“Ciara,” I call out right before I head to the elevators.

She perks her head up from where she’s focused on her computer.

“I’ll be out of town next week. Adjust my calendar accordingly. I’ll need you to take notes at any meetings for me. Is that something you can handle?”

Her spine stiffens, determination filling her gaze as she nods.

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,hecan 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’tliketo.”

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.