“What do you mean? If I don’t stare at the road, how do I know where to drive?” I cry out, frustrated and half- convinced that he’s fucking with me.
Julian groans, throwing himself back in the passenger seat and running his hand through his inky black hair. “Listen to me,” he grits out. “If you look down at the pavement directly, you’ll crash. Just trust me.”
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “Trust you? You can’t be serious.”
“I haven’t given you any reason not to,” he says, picking invisible lint off his shirt.
“Right,” I snort. “Other than practically threatening to hurt Aidan if I don’t behave. Forcing me to marry you and lying to my father, who is dying. And continually making me heel like your bitch to save the people I care about.”
“Sounds to me like I’ve been nothing but honest.” He shrugs.
“I— ” Closing my mouth, I purse my lips.
He’s not wrong, I guess.
“Try again,” he soothes. “Just slowly press down on the gas. No need to get mad at it. She reacts better when you make her purr.” He brushes his hand against the dash.
Rolling my eyes at how sexual he makes his car sound, I take a deep breath, glancing around to make sure the parking lot we’re in is still empty. The last thing I need is for anyone else to see me try and fail at something most people know how to do.
Swallowing down the nerves, I do as he says, keeping my gaze trained in front of me instead of down at the road this time.
“Good,” he says when the car rolls forward.
Pride sparks in my middle. I’m doing it.
I accelerate slowly, very slowly, as in we’re going ten miles per hour tops. I’m going in a straight line and sitting in the driver’s seat, and suddenly, I’ve never felt more independent and powerful in my life. Which in turn makes me feel silly, because it’s such a simple thing.
“Perfect,” he continues. “Now turn to the right. You want the car to follow you, not the other way around.”
My left hand lifts from the wheel, gliding over the top to try to turn it.
The car loses control slightly, and I gasp, panicking and slamming on the brakes. My body jerks forward, the seat belt cutting into my neck.
I groan, frustrated, throwing my head back against the seat, the pride I just felt slipping away like sand through my fingers.
“This is pointless. I’m clearly not made for driving.”
“Do you always do that?” he questions.
“What?” I side- eye him.
“Give up so easily.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply, which is good because I don’t have one to give him. Instead, I’m sure his question will just seep into my subconscious and fester there so I can overthink it later and wonder if he’s right.
Leaning over, he reaches out, grasping my hands in his, his touch sending a shock through my system.
Flashes of my vision in the shower, with his rough fingers dragging down the sides of my body, make my skin heat. I rub my thighs together and clear my throat.
Dammit.
“Keep them here.” He places my left hand on the wheel. “And here.” Right hand on the right.
“You should stop touching me,” I say, my voice low.
“Agree to disagree,” he replies, slowly taking his fingers away.
My stomach flips, and it pisses me off because it keeps doing that, and I don’t want to react to him at all. Besides, this is all just a ruse to keep me agreeable, I’m sure of it.
“You really don’t need to try so hard,” I bite out. “No one’s around to see you.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” He smirks. “Trying?”
I slap my hands against the wheel and the horn goes off, making my stomach surge into my throat and my heart skip.
He laughs. “Okay, that’s enough for the day. Let’s switch.”
I don’t argue, even though I really want to keep driving. Even more than that, I want to ask if he’ll bring me back so I can try again. If he’ll teach me more.
He’s the only person who’s seen me lacking and not just handed me whatever I need but given me the chance to learn it myself. It’s different from what I’m used to, and I like the way it feels.
Opening the door, I move to slide out of the driver’s seat. A hand appears in front of my face, and I hesitate to take it, not wanting my body to betray me again by reacting to his touch.
But this car sits really low, and I don’t want to make a fool of myself trying to stand when he’s clearly offering help, so I slip my palm in his, static energy shooting through my fingers and up my arm as I let him lift me from the seat.
I try to move my hand back, but he tightens his grip, pulling me in until his lips are by my ear. “If you think I’ve been trying with you, then you clearly don’t know what a man looks like when he tries. I’ll be sure to rectify that situation.”
I suck in a breath. “Why bother?”
“Why not?”
He lets me go then, but the burn of his touch stays.
The sound of tires crunches on the loose gravel of the parking lot and I glance behind Julian to see a cop car pulling up.
My stomach cramps up tight. Will I get in trouble for driving without a license?
Julian’s eyes flick from me to the patrol car, his jaw setting and his brows dropping down until that serious mask he wears so well coasts over his face entirely. It’s dark and dangerous, and I’m reminded again why I don’t let myself get on his bad side unnecessarily. He seems to let me get away with a lot of things that other people don’t, but there’s a reason why I don’t fight with him more. Not when people’s lives hang in the balance.
Oddly enough, even though I know I was technically doing something wrong, I feel safe with him here. I know that no matter what happens, he won’t allow some local cop to have control over someone like him. This police officer might have a bit of power, but it’s smothered entirely by the force that is Julian Faraci.
Julian’s hand ghosts across the small of my back, sending a shiver racing up my spine. “Go sit in the car, Yasmin.”
“Won’t that look suspicious?” I look up at him. “I’d rather stay out here.”
He glances down at me, the corners of his lips twitching, but his hand stays in place. “Suit yourself.”
A car door slams and the police officer walks over, his hands on his hips, resting right over his gun. He takes in the scene, scanning the blacked- out Audi R8 and then Julian, and I wonder what it is he sees when he looks at us.
We’re both in designer labels, with an expensive car, and Julian has tattoos that cover most of his body. I assume Julian knows most of the local police force, but when suspicion flits across the police officer’s face and his fingers tighten over his holster, I second- guess myself.
Okay then. We must not look like anything good.
Julian’s hand caresses my skin lightly, sending a comforting sensation through me. I lean into it.
“What’s going on here? You realize this is private property?” the cop says.
Julian’s brows lift and he glances behind him, over the empty parking lot and warehouse.
I hadn’t asked what the warehouse was for; it’s beige on the outside and large enough to fit several other buildings inside it, but there’s no discernible name on the front, and I’ve been so distracted with driving that it hadn’t crossed my mind to ask or to think we were trespassing.
“That’s right,” Julian replies.
“Odd place to be on a Friday afternoon.”
Julian nods. “Teaching my wife to drive. Unfortunately, it’s a skill she hasn’t yet mastered.”
The cop’s brows raise, and he looks to me, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his chapped lips as his eyes strip me down.
Yuck. A single look and I feel more violated by him than I ever have with Julian.
“I don’t know if I believe that.” The cop laughs. “A man like you with a girl like her? Seems like she’d have a lot of skills.”
I hold back a scoff, crossing my arms over my chest instead.
What the hell does he mean by that?
Julian’s fingers twitch on my back.
“Unfortunately,” the cop continues, “like I said, this is private property. You can’t just loiter wherever you want, regardless of how nice the eye candy is while you do it.”
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Julian notes.
Julian doesn’t spare me a glance, but my traitorous heart skips anyway at the compliment.
“Did someone call you to complain?” he asks.
The officer’s bushy brown brows furrow. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Seeing as I own the place, I find it very concerning.”
A small breath leaves me. I hadn’t expected that, although I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Julian seems to have his hand in everything, the same as my father.
The cop, however, looks visibly shocked. “Let me see your license and registration, please.”
Julian leans down and whispers in my ear, “Go get in the car, Yasmin.”
Part of me wants to take the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself for always thinking he can tell me what to do, but I realize now might not be the most opportune of times, so I bite the side of my cheek and do what he says.
I make my way toward the back of the vehicle, attempting to avoid the police officer, but he’s standing right next to the car, and when I try to move around him, he steps in closer.
I jolt back, pasting a tense smile on my face. “Excuse me, please.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty- three,” I reply.
“And you’re here by choice? Just say the word and I can”— he lets his gaze wander again— “get you out of here. Take you with me.”
“Officer.” Julian steps up behind me until I feel the heat of his body at my back. “I’d recommend you stop questioning her.”
“And why’s that? Two of you alone out here, no one around for miles. Seems suspicious.” He looks to me again. “He paying you for something, honey?”
His words smack me across the face, fire raging through my middle. I throw my hand up, showcasing the giant canary diamond. “We’re married, asshole.”
The officer’s smirk drops. “Watch your tone.”
“Yasmin.” Julian’s voice is sharper now. “Get in the car.”
My stomach drops when the cop steps directly in front of me.
“Now, I can’t let you just disappear from my sight.”
“You should,” Julian cuts in. “If you value having it.”
The cop frowns. “Is that a threat?”
Julian laughs, and I can’t help but glance back at him. His hands are lifted in the air and there’s a maniacal grin on his face. “You know, I’m sorry. It seems like you’re getting the wrong impression about us. Let her get in the car, Officer. How else can she grab what you’re asking for?”
The cop holds Julian’s gaze for a long moment before finally stepping out of my way.
I blow out a breath, rushing by him, and right when I pass the jerk’s side, he shifts, the length of his body brushing against mine.
A shiver of disgust rolls through me at the power play, and my footsteps quicken as I make my way to the passenger side, sliding into the vehicle and turning the rearview mirror so I can watch their interaction.
I can’t hear what they’re saying above low mumbles, but I do see Julian step forward, his tall frame demanding obedience from the short and stocky cop without even trying. Julian says something, and the cop jerks back, his face snapping down to something in Julian’s hand before raising it again.
Slowly the cop nods, reaching out and taking whatever it was before walking away.
Julian slides back in the car and revs the engine, pulling out of the lot and driving away before the officer has even made it back to his vehicle.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Fine.”
“Good.” I nod my head, a dark tension wringing the air dry. “I didn’t like him.”
Julian chuckles.
I huff. “I don’t know why you’re laughing. Is sexual harassment funny to you? Didn’t you see the way he stared at me? And he touched me. Like, what kind of person would literally hear you say you’re my husband and then do it so blatantly?”
“A very foolish man.”
“Yeah.” Disappointment over the fact that Julian didn’t care enough to do anything hits me in the chest. It catches me off guard, how much it upsets me, but I use it as fuel—a reminder that he doesn’t really want me to be his spouse. That we may be married on paper, but not in all the ways that matter.
“He’s lucky you don’t really care,” I pout. “One day he’ll do that to the wrong person and not like the result.”
Julian doesn’t reply, but his hands tighten the slightest bit on the steering wheel and the muscle at the back of his jaw flexes.
I swallow down whatever I was about to say because clearly, he doesn’t want to continue the conversation, and at this point, I’m just ready to go home and forget it happened to begin with.
“You sit over there.” I side-eye Razul, who does nothing but grunt and get a table in the corner of the room, allowing me to go and see Riya for Sunday brunch without him overhearing every word I say.
He drove me here, but he hasn’t said a word, most likely under strict instruction not to speak to me. It’s fine. I don’t really think we’d have much in common anyway, and although I didn’t tell Julian because fighting him on anything while he can hurt Aidan is useless, I don’t think I need a bodyguard.
My father never gave me one, and I grew up just fine on my own.
Looking around the restaurant, I see Riya sipping on a drink over in the back corner of the room, and I make my way there, sliding into the booth and eyeing the no-doubt alcoholic bever age already in front of me on the table.
“I took the liberty of ordering you a Bellini.” She nods to the drink in front of me.
“Thanks.” I smile, but I’m not touching that thing, especially since I’m spending all evening with Julian and his mother. Who knows what will happen if I don’t have all my cylinders firing appropriately?
“Who’s your sidekick?” she asks, jerking her chin at Razul.
I glance back at the bulky, grumpy man, who’s sitting back in a chair across the room with his eyes trained on me. “My new watchdog.”
Her brows lift. “Julian gave you security? Wow. How romantic.”
“More annoying than anything. So what’s the news?” I ask, reaching out to grab a piece of bread. It melts when it hits my mouth and I close my eyes at the taste.
“Wow, not even a ‘how are you’?” she deadpans. “Julian’s rubbing off on you.”
The bread I’m swallowing gets stuck in my throat and I cough, my hand flying to my neck as I try to regain my composure.
“You okay?” Riya asks, her brow quirking.
“He is not,” I rasp out.
“Yeah, I know… It was a joke, damn.” She clicks her tongue. “Is it that miserable?”
“Even worse,” I mumble, reaching back out to the basket of rolls in the center of the table and tearing off another piece. “He’s being nice.”
She gasps. “No! How terrible.”
Scoffing, I throw the piece of bread at her. “Uh, yeah. It actually is. It’s confusing, and I think he’s just manipulating my emotions on purpose, and I don’t know what purpose it’s serving. It’s not like it will make a difference. As far as he’s concerned, he’s already won, so what’s the point?”
“Oh my god,” Riya muses, her eyes calculating as she stares at me. “You like him.”
“No,” I snap. “Absolutely not.”
She sits back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Don’t lie to me, bitch. How dare you fall for the enemy and try to keep it from me?”
“I’m not falling for him. God,” I complain. “He just…he confuses me.”
She scoffs. “Please, you’ve always had a thing for the bad guy.”
My mouth drops open. “I have not.”
“Don’t lie to me, Yas. I’ve watched Die Hard with you too many times to fall for that trick.”
“That’s different.” I point a finger at her and squint. “Hans Gruber is the best villain of all time. He’s not a real person.”
“Right.” She nods, her eyes wide. “You’ve got the real version of him as your man.”
My stomach twists. “He’s a fucking criminal hiding in a business suit, Riya. Who do you think I am?”
“Alleged criminal,” she corrects.
I don’t bother to tell her that Sultans is so much more than what it appears to the public. If I admit that out loud, then I have to admit my father is also a criminal and that both Julian and my father are just extremely good at hiding their nefarious deeds behind smiles and retail chains.
Nausea churns in my gut, remembering just who it is I’m dealing with in Julian and hating myself for how easily I forget when I’m around him. I’ve let him touch me, kiss me. I almost let him fuck me.
“Ugh, he’s definitely trying to manipulate me. And I’m just like…a fucking helpless girl unable to do anything but bow to his demands and pretend that I’m okay with what’s happening.” I drop my head in my arms. “It makes me feel weak.”
Riya sighs and reaches across the table, patting my forearm.
“You’re not weak, baby girl. You’re smart.” I roll my head to the side and stare at her.
Her eyes flick back to Razul again and then to me, her voice lowering. “I talked to Aidan.”
This gets my attention and I perk back up, my hands grabbing hers. “You’re kidding.”
She clicks her tongue. “Thought I’d call him up just to see if he answered, you know? Give him a piece of my mind.”
“Okay.” I nod, waiting for her to elaborate and ignoring the way it stings that he talked to her but won’t even respond to me. “And?”
“We talked for a few minutes, and I told him that you were only doing what you had to. And he’s out there, trying to find that lamp or whatever, so he’s just been busy.”
“Oh. Good.” My stomach sours.
She winces like she’s expecting me to fall apart right in front of her eyes, but surprisingly, even though knowing I’m not a priority does hurt, it doesn’t sting quite as bad as I expected. It’s a dull ache in my chest, not a sledgehammer to my heart. Although I’m not sure why he’d be so interested in finding the lamp still if I’m already married to someone else. Does he think he can still convince my father that he’s the better choice?
“Hey, that lost lamp business is kind of crazy, huh?” she says, changing the conversation as she takes a sip of her drink.
“I don’t really know much about it.” My eyes flick up to her and I tilt my head. “In fact, how do you?”
“Aidan said it’s worth, like, a billion dollars.” She whistles. “Imagine what someone could do with that. No wonder your dad wants it.”
My teeth sink into my lip. “Honestly, Riy, I couldn’t care less about the stupid lamp. It doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s not like Aidan can bring it back and we ride off into the sunset together. It’s too late.”
She nods. “True. There’s still hope though. I found a guy, remember?”
I lean forward, my stomach flipping like I’m on a roller coaster. “Yeah. I was just afraid to ask.”
Her eyes flick to Razul one more time. “You sure he can’t hear us?”
I glance behind me and then back to her, shrugging.
“I got you a burner phone and programmed his number into it. His name’s Randy Gazim. He’s a lawyer right smack-dab in the center of New York City. He specializes in nasty divorces, and he claims to not give a shit about Julian Faraci or the power he has.” She takes the linen napkin on the table and places it in her lap before wrapping it around something and sliding it back. “I figured you could try to text Aidan on here too, just in case you have extra eyes on your stuff or, you know, we could talk without worrying about who might look at your real phone.”
My hand shoots out and I grip the napkin, feeling a lumpy object underneath. I drag it toward me and slip it into my purse, hoping that Razul didn’t see. My chest warms.
She lifts a shoulder. “Listen, Aidan’s really pissed, Yas. He’s hurt, you know? But I told him you were trying to find a way out. And he…he said he hasn’t lost faith.” She nods toward the phone. “Text him. See what he has to say.”
My heart catapults through my chest and slams against my ribs as I nod. “Thanks, Riya.”
After brunch is over and I’m back in the safety of my room, I plan on doing just that.
