Page 49 of Desperate Measures
If I stay here, I never will be.
16
Jafar
Something’s changed, and I can’t put my finger on what. It doesn’t help that I’m distracted over this clusterfuck of a weekend. Six of my men are gone, disappeared as if they never existed, and I have only Ali to blame. He’s not scared of the force I can bring against him, and he’s not in the wind like I first thought. If anything, getting access to Yasmina at the Underworld emboldened him. He’ll keep striking until I put him down, but I can’t fucking find him to remove the threat he represents.
When Yasmina doesn’t answer, I prod her again. “School?”
“Oh.” She examines her wineglass. “I suppose I’d like to go to college, but I haven’t put much thought into it.”
She’s not telling the truth. I can see it in the way her eyes drop, in the nervous twitch of her fingers against the counter. She told no lies when she said she’s wanted everything I’ve given her and more, but she’s lying now.
“I find that hard to believe.” I keep my voice mild. “The entire time I’ve known you, you’ve had your face pressed against the bars of your cage and your eyes on the future. Don’t tell me that plan didn’t include college.”
Yasmina gives me a brittle smile. “When would I have gone to college, Jafar? When I married some man like Ali? Future plans aren’t for people like me. I’m a pawn in a larger game. I always have been.”
Who is this woman? Where is the fire that seems ready to burst from her skin normally? I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re going to college.”
The look she gives me can only be described as withering. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“I think you’ll find that it is.” I don’t know why she’s resisting, but it doesn’t make a difference. No matter what Yasmina thinks of me, I have no plans to keep her walled up in this tower indefinitely. It’s not reasonable. Beyond that, it makes me look weak as fuck to have to lock my woman away in order to protect her. She might not see herself as mine, but everyone else does.
I do.
Life would be easier if that was my only motivation. Bolstering strength and keeping up appearances. That shit I understand. It’s not, though. I want Yasmina to find her feet in a real way. She’s never had a chance before, and I can be the one to give it to her. Is there a whole lot of possessive pride wrapped up in that sentiment? Yes. I won’t deny it. I want her to fly and to know I was the one who gave her that chance.
I want her to choose me.
The thought almost makes me laugh. Since when did I get so godsdamned sentimental?
“Tell me something, baby girl.”
“What do you want to know?” She sounds so cold, so prim, I want to make a mess of her.
“Are you digging in your heels simply for the sake of doing it? Because, if so, you’re wasting both our time.”
She finally looks at me, really looks at me. There are shadows in her dark eyes that I have no solution to. I am not a caretaker, not a gentle soul who will love her into healing.?1 I wouldn’t know the first place to start with that shit. I have the skills I’ve cultivated over my life, and those will have to be good enough.
I push off the counter and hold out a hand. “Come on.”
“What?”
“I think this is a conversation better had under different circumstances.” I wait for her to take my hand, and then I haul her over my shoulder. She curses and smacks my back, but I like carrying Yasmina. It soothes something raw inside me to know she’s fully mine, even if only for the duration of the trip.
I take the elevator down a floor and stride to the little setup I ordered put together when I realized Ali had slipped through my grasp again. There will be a time when I’ll happily go out on the town with Yasmina on my arm, but it’s too dangerous right now. Ali is a loose cannon, and while I don’t think he’d snipe Yasmina—not yet—he’s riling up others who might not have the same restraint.
Not to mention the man won’t react well when he realizes that he’ll never lay a hand on Yasmina. Not again.
I set her down slowly, letting her body drag along mine.
She presses her hands to my chest and glares up at me. “You have to realize that you can’t just lug me around whenever you feel like it.”
“Do I?” I shouldn’t enjoy needling her this much, but she’s finally snapping and flickering at me, exhibiting the fire I know she carries deep inside. I want it closer to the surface. I don’t want her control.
I just want Yasmina.
Fuck, but I’m in trouble. She was only ever meant to be the pawn she describes herself as, except I’m self-aware enough to acknowledge the truth. This woman worked her way beneath my skin a long time ago. Now that I’ve had her in my home, that I’ve seen her wild with abandon and desire, now that I know exactly how hard she gets off on being bad?
