Page 35 of Twisted (Never After)
My stomach twists until it aches, and I bite the corner of my cheek.
“I don’t envy you, sister. Here.” She hands me the lipstick. “Wear the red. It’s a power color.”
* * *
I’ve beenat the restaurant 1001 Arabian Nights for the past fifteen minutes, trying to work up the courage to go inside and meet my first official suitor.
Maybe I’m overthinking things. My anxiety has always bled into my decisions, making the worst possible outcome take center stage in my brain, but despite how much I try to work through the situation, it doesn’t make it any more palatable. It’s like the farther I dig the hole, the longer the climb out is, and somewhere along the way, I’ve lost my voice completely, becoming docile. a mute trophy for people to lug around.
Eventually I work up the courage to head inside, wondering idly if my father is already there. I thought we were driving together, but when I slipped into the car waiting at the front of the estate, it took off without him.
The turquoise silk dress is soft against my thighs as I exit the car, my heels aching as soon as I take my first step onto the sidewalk. The stilettos are an unfortunate discomfort that I couldn’t pass up because they match the outfit so well. There’s a small chill in the air, making goose bumps sprout along my skin.
This restaurant is known for its high- end clientele and pricey menu, so I’m not surprised to see a doorman holding open the door as I make my way inside. When I step into the building, the rich smells hit my nostrils. Distant sounds of clinking from plates and the low murmur of voices from the other patrons assault my senses and make my palms sweat.
I swallow back the unease of being in a crowded public place and walk toward the hostess stand, noticing the pretty blond girl with a bored look on her face and a white button-up with a small black bow tie around the collar.
Her eyes lock on mine, but before I can say a word, someone touches my lower back, sending a shock through my body. I jolt immediately, twisting around and coming face- to- face with Julian.
I roll my eyes, sidestepping his touch. “Of course you’re here. Being my father’s lap dog again?”
The corners of his lips twitch as he moves to stand beside me, his hand coming back but this time wrapping around my hip possessively and pulling me into him.
My stomach flips.
Jerk.
The hostess beams up at him, her eyes glazing over when he flashes her a dazzling smile. “Mr. Faraci.”
I roll my eyes again, becauseof coursehe comes here enough to be recognized.
“Andrea, you’re looking beautiful. I believe we have a gentleman waiting for us already by the name of Alexander Sokolov.”
I watch him from my peripheral vision, annoyed that he’s putting on such a show, acting all suave and charming when he’s anything but.
The hostess—Andrea— glances down at her computer system and then back up. “He’s already here. I’ll take you both back.”
We start to follow her, but it’s difficult to walk with the way Julian’s arm isstillaround my waist, making me stick to him like glue.
“Quit touching me,” I murmur out of the side of my mouth. “You look like a skeevy predator.”
It’s not true. He looks incredible, and any other woman would most likely be thrilled to be seen on his arm regardless of the age difference, but I’ll die before I admit it out loud.
He glances down at me as we walk. “And you look fucking sinful in that outfit. I’m not allowing anyone to think you’re here by yourself.”
My brows shoot to my hairline, the shock of his words making me lose any retort I had. Did he justcomplimentme? Backhanded, of course, because I can take care of myself, but still, I don’t think he’s ever so much as said thank you, so this is a shift in demeanor I wasn’t expecting.
It puts me on edge, this stark one- eighty in his personality, and despite what he seems to think, I’m not clueless. I know he’s buttering me up, trying to play the angle of a doting fiancé.
“You make me sick,” I hiss.
His fingers tighten around me, squeezing so lightly I’m not sure if I imagined it, and then we’re at the table and a tall blond man with broad shoulders and a dark suit is rising from his seat, his gaze flickering to Julian and then to his arm around my waist before they stop on me.
I shift in my spot, uncomfortable with the attention. It feels slimy, like I’m a prize he’s set his eyes on and is determined to win. I stand there in limbo, wondering if I should introduce myself or sit down first, and then the choice is taken from me as Julian pulls out the chair next to me, prodding me lightly so I move to sit. He waits until I’m settled, his hand never leaving the back of the chair, and then he pushes me in.
My mind spins at the chivalry, and my eyes narrow up at him.
I know your tricks, asshole.
