“Jafar.” She looks away. “How can this ever work?”
I reach across the table and take her hand. The touch does little to steady me. There’s no convenient map of our path forward. Yasmina might trust me with her body, but she doesn’t trust me with her heart. If I were a better man, I’d respect that. I wouldn’t push her. I’d seduce her slowly until I’m the only one she can imagine herself with.
I don’t know how to do that shit. I can play cultured with the best of them, but the man who emerges whenever I get my hands on her is the true me. Rough. Possessive. Unexpectedly tender at times. I can’t force her to trust me, so I’ll have to wait her out. It’s the only option.
I stand and tug her to her feet. “It will work because it’s us.”
“I truly wish I could believe that.”
“You don’t have to believe it, baby girl. I’ll believe enough for both of us.”
17
Yasmina
It would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with Jafar.
As the remains of our dinner are taken away, leaving us staring over the table at each other, I’m forced to admit the truth—I’m more than halfway there. I wish I could find joy in that knowledge. Love is supposed to be this wonderful, all-encompassing feeling that sends flowers springing to life inside me and has me walking around with a foolish grin on my face. This doesn’t feel anything like that.
It feels like being in the middle of a violent storm, and Jafar is the only thing anchoring me in place. Everything hurts. If butterflies ever existed in my stomach, they’ve been replaced by something with claws and teeth.
These violent delights have violent ends.
Romeo and Juliet is not a romantic arc I wish to mirror, throwing away everything for a man. At least Juliet had something before love swept her away. My family, what little of it there was, has been murdered. Any power I possess is all illusion. Enemies lurk in the shadows.
If I were a smarter woman, I would number Jafar among them.
“I have something special planned for you tonight.”
His low words coax me from my dark thoughts, and I’m only too happy to let his sheer presence wash away my concerns. At least for a little while. Tomorrow is soon enough to worry about the future, about the implications of what Jafar has laid out tonight.
He wants to keep me happy. That should be a positive. I want to be happy. But my needs and his are forever at odds. He wants me content in this place. I need to be free.
Tomorrow. I’ll form a plan tomorrow.
I finally dredge up a smile for him. “Something special?”
“Yes.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. I tense, half expecting him to toss me over his shoulder again, but Jafar seems content to tug me along behind him. “Under other circumstances, this would go down at the Underworld, but some adjustments were required.”
Because of Ali.
I should be happy Jafar wants to keep me out of that man’s hands. I am happy about that. It’s losing the Underworld as a destination away from the penthouse that I can’t stand. My cage keeps closing tighter around me, the trap teeth digging in deeper to my limbs. A constant reminder that I have no control of my life.
Jafar leads me into the lounge, and I stop short. “Meg?”
Meg leans against the bar, a wicked smile painting her lips. “Apparently play time came early.” She winks. “You should thank your Daddy for me. I’m truly a gift.”?1
I turn to Jafar. “You…” He set this up for me, because I expressed interest.
He sinks his hands into my hair and pulls me forward to press against his chest. His dark eyes see everything I can’t put into words. “It’s my pleasure to meet your needs, baby girl. All of them.” His glances over my shoulder, and I don’t know what knowledge has passed between him and Meg, but I can hear her moving behind me. “Working up to the other fantasy starts here.”
The other fantasy.
The one where he invites more people. Where we jump from them watching to them taking me up on the invitation simmering in my blood. I open my mouth, but it’s as if all the air has disappeared from the room. It takes me three tries to force out the words. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He tugs on my hair, forcing my attention to narrow in on him. “It’s the same rules. Safe word and it stops.”
Which allows me to resist, to fight them, to drive my desire higher every time they overpower me. I lick my lips. “I understand.”
