Page 36 of Twisted (Never After)
He moves to sit next to me and props his ankle on his opposite knee, adopting a casual air as he waves over a waiter and orders a Glenlivet neat and a glass of cabernet for me.
Maybe I should be annoyed that he ordered for me, but the truth is that public places and people I’ve never met make me uneasy, and by the end of the night, I always have a headache from masking my anxiety and holding my jaw too tightly. The direction from him is soothing, and I hate to admit it makes me relax, even just the tiniest bit.
“Where’s my father?” I ask, suddenly realizing he still isn’t here.
“That’s a good question,” the man across the table cuts in. “I was under the impression I’d be meeting not only Ali’s beautiful daughter”— his eyes run up my torso, resting on my breasts before meeting my gaze— “but also Ali himself.”
Julian hums deep in his throat just as his drink is placed in front of him. He reaches out and grips the glass tumbler, the black ink on the back of his hand flexing with his fingers. “Things change. Now you get to meetme.”
Chapter12
Julian
Once I made myself known to be there in Ali’s stead, I expected Alexander’s countenance to change. For him to become more pliable and willing to grovel at my feet the way so many others do. Possibly for recognition to dawn in his eyes.
But if anything, the ire behind his gaze only grew.
“And who areyou?” he asks haughtily.
“He’s the bane of my existence,” Yasmin pipes in.
I flash her a grin before focusing again on the man across the table who’s trying to take what I’ve decided is mine.
“Or I guess you could call him my father’s bitch, if that’s more your speed.”
My teeth grit until my molars ache at the disrespect, and if I didn’t need her to experience what life would be like if she ended up with this idiot, I’d lash out, maybe drown her in a bathtub so I wouldn’t have to hear her speak again.
“Forgive Yasmin,” I say. “Despite her obvious beauty and rather large inheritance, she still has a nasty habit of being jealous.”
Yasmin lets out a bark of laughter.
I turn my face toward her, tsking before I turn back to Alexander. “Hope you can handle it. Alexander Sokolov, I’m guessing?”
He nods stiffly, tapping his thick fingers on the table. “Yes.”
“Interesting last name,” I continue. “Russian?”
His jaw locks, eyes narrowing on me. “Correct.”
I nod, throwing an arm around the back of Yasmin’s chair. “Fascinating to have you so…investedin Ali’s daughter.”
“Mr. Faraci,” a voice interrupts. I look over to see the hostess who led us to the table standing next to me with an apologetic look on her face. “So sorry to interrupt, but you had a call. A Mr. Godard requesting you call him back as soon as possible. He said he’s tried to reach your phone.”
I nod, irritated that Ian called the fucking restaurant when he knows I’m busy.
“Julian Faraci,” Alexander says, recognition flashing over his face. “Of course. I’ve heard so much about you.”
I hum because I’m sure he has. “If you’ll excuse me, this will only take a moment.”
Standing up from the table, I make my way through the hallway directly behind us and out the back exit to the private alley. It’s a quiet night, other than the sound of cars rushing past on the street out front, and the stars shine brightly in the sky.
I glance up, noticing the full moon and how it spreads light across the cracks of the black pavement.
Withdrawing my phone from my pocket, I call Ian.
“Boss.”
“You’re already wasting my time.”
