Page 22 of Desperate Measures
“Liar.”
He arches his brows. “That’s quite a tone you’ve taken.” Mild. So mild as he issues his nonthreats. If I keep pushing him, keep lashing out, will he punish me? Perhaps he’ll put me over his knee right here in the back seat, shove my dress up and…
Focus, Yasmina.
I clear my throat, fighting for control. Fighting to appear just as calm and collected as he is despite the fact that my heart wants to thunder right out of my chest. “You are perfectly capable of bringing me to orgasm half a dozen times in the penthouse. You have an agenda for tonight, and I would like to know what it is since I’m taking part in your plans.”?1
He reaches out and idly twines one of my curls around his finger. “You saw Tink today. What did she tell you about the Underworld?”
I notice that he didn’t question that she told me something. I wonder how well he knows Tink, and something hot and ugly flares to life beneath my skin. Jealousy. The realization almost makes me laugh out loud. As if I have any claim on this man.
No, he holds all the cards, all the claim, all the power. Am I even allowed to protest if he fucks someone else? The thought leaves me cold.
I swallow hard, trying to focus on the question he asked me. “She didn’t say much. It’s owned by someone called Hades. He makes deals?”
“Mmm.” Jafar releases my hair and sits back, depriving me of even that minimal contact. “Hades is dangerous, Yasmina. You won’t look at him and think it, but he’s the biggest threat in the Underworld.”
“Then why are we going?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s the best dungeon in the state and I want to play with my mouthy little brat?” A flash of his teeth in the shifting shadows, gone almost as soon as they appeared. “Everyone who’s worth killing is in that dungeon. There are rules that no one dares fuck with, but it’s a good place to go and scope out the enemy. Tonight, it’s about cementing my position.”
Understanding dawns, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. “You want everyone to know you staged a coup of my father’s territory.” I lean back, needing more distance between us. “You’re going to show me off, a war prize for your efforts.”
“Yes.”
I haven’t forgotten the reality of this arrangement. Of how it came to be. I look out the window. “Did you kill him?”
“Why do you sound so wretched, Yasmina? He wasn’t a good man. Fuck, he makes me look like a saint with some of the shit he did.” He moves closer, touching my chin to bring my attention back to him. This close, I can almost see his expression clearly, but it gives nothing away. Nothing except the way his gaze bores into me as if trying to impart some vital information. “He hit you.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You would forgive me if I had murdered him?”
It’s still not an answer, but I reach deep for the truth. There’s a curious blankness when I think about my father. A veil I can’t pierce and have no interest in trying. “If you didn’t, you are leaving an enemy at your back.”
A pause, the barest of hesitations like I’ve surprised him.
I smile, though there’s no heart in it. Maybe there’s no heart in me, either. “My father is a terrible person. You worked for him long enough to know the truth.” He would have sold me. He did sell me, despite my protests. I can rail against Jafar until the end of time, but the truth is that I chose our deal, even if I didn’t fully realize the parameters of it. My father didn’t give me a choice. He would have handed me to Ali and never looked back as long as the contract went through.
One less thing for him to worry about.
I lean back in the seat. “He murdered my mother. Did you know that?”
“Yes.”
Of course he did. It was one of the worst-kept secrets in that huge house. The official story is that my mother died from a sudden sickness. No one’s cared enough to question it. One day, she was there; the next, she was gone, leaving a hole I’m not sure I’ll ever fill. “Did you kill him, Jafar? Answer the question.”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. As you said, he was a threat. If he’d gone quietly, it might have played out a different way.”
My breath leaves me in a whoosh, and I can’t quite manage to reclaim it. I press my hand to my chest, my head going light. “Oh.”
He’s there instantly, gripping the back of my neck and guiding my head down to my knees. “Slowly, Yasmina. Inhale. Yes, like that.”
It takes several laborious inhales before I can speak again. “I should feel bad. Angry. Sad. Something.” I give a slightly hysterical giggle. “I don’t feel anything at all.” My father was a monster. At his very best, he was neglectful and absent. His best. “You’re right. I’m a horrible, traitorous daughter.”
I barely hear Jafar’s sigh, and then he pulls me onto his lap. I resist at first, but he’s stronger, and the truth is I don’t want to resist. I giggle again, the inappropriate sound horrifying me almost as much as my complete lack of grief over the situation. “A traitorous daughter and her father’s murderer. Maybe we really do deserve each other.”
“We do.”
