Page 50 of Desperate Measures
I’ve always dealt in cold, hard facts. Ambition like mine can get a man killed if he’s not careful, and I worked my way up the ranks using my brain instead of letting emotion get the best of me. That trait is what makes me better than anyone else around me, and it’s the reason Balthazar never saw me coming. For all his power, he was ruled by impulse and anger and, beneath that, fear.
But if I were the type of man to give way to fantasy, to dream up a woman to be my match in every way? I don’t have to look far to find her.
She’s standing right in front of me.
I sure as fuck don’t know how to feel about that. Wanting something—someone—this badly is like handing my enemies a loaded gun and relying on a prayer to some imaginary god to save me. They’ll see her as my weak spot, and they’ll come for her. They’ll keep coming for her.
“Jafar?” She slides her hands up my chest, her brows furrowed. “Daddy, are you okay? You’re shaking.”
I lock it down. I don’t have another choice. Confessing any of this shit to her is out of the question. She’s still got her eye on the door, and knowing that she’ll rip me apart if she tries to leave won’t be enough to stop her. I’d be a fucking idiot to believe otherwise. “Eat with me.”
She blinks those big, dark eyes at me. “I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t have to understand to play along.”
No smile in response. Just a searching look. “Is that all this is? A game to play?”
I can’t dredge up a lie. “No, baby girl. That’s not all this is.”
She parts her lips like she wants to pepper me with more questions, but she finally shakes her head and turns to look at the hastily put together setup in the room. It doesn’t look last minute, of course. My people are better than that. A small round table sits in the center of the room with two tall candles and a full array of silverware and plates. If I can’t take her out for the night I had planned, I’ll bring it to her.
Finally, Yasmina looks back at me. “Okay, I’ll put aside my feelings for the night if that’s what you want.”
I don’t want her to put aside her feelings. I want to shift the feelings themselves. I can’t tell her that. She might grab one of the butter knives and try to stab me with it.?2 The thought brings a smile. “Do you often attempt to stab people?”
She moves to the table, and I follow to pull out her chair. Yasmina doesn’t answer until she’s seated. “Only when they sneak into my room in the middle of the night.”
I can still feel the prick of the blade against my groin. She’d stood a good chance of hitting an artery and leaving me to bleed out on her bedroom floor. And sick bastard that I am, all I felt was a sense of pride. “If I’d been Ali, would you have followed through on the threat?”
“Yes.” She takes her napkin and spreads it across her lap. “I assumed that anyone in my room uninvited was up to no good.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “I was correct.”
I chuckle. “Yes, you were.” I lean back as a trio of my people come in, all carrying covered plates. We don’t speak as they set them on the table, remove the covers, and silently leave the room. I watch Yasmina take in the food.
“This looks like paella from Rom’s.”?3
“It is.”
Surprise flares, quickly banked. “You know my favorite place.”
“I think we’ve established that my fascination with you has prodded me to learn all number of things.”
She picks up her fork and considers me. “You say fascination, but if I wasn’t attracted to you, it would border on terrifying.” Another long look at her plate. “I’m not sure it doesn’t border on terrifying.”
“Eat before it gets cold.”
She gives me another of those saucy looks I’ve come to crave, and we dig in. She’s correct that this food comes from Rom, who runs a restaurant that I’m reasonably sure has no name, but I’m not about to tell her that I paid the man an exorbitant amount of money to cook for us personally tonight. She’ll accuse me of padding her cage with pleasant experiences, and it’s exactly what I’m doing. I know she’s restless, but I can’t do a damn thing about it until Ali is removed. Even then, I can’t allow her free rein. Not until I can guarantee her safety.
It’s only when she sets her fork aside that I resume our earlier conversation. “Why did you lie to me about college?”
Yasmina sighs. “Do you ever get tired of moving me around the board on your whim? Princess in a palace. Princess in a penthouse. Submissive in the Underworld. Now college coed? Why do you insist on pushing me like this?”
I should feed her a line, but I find myself answering honestly. “You’ve been walled up for too long.”
“I’ve been walled up too long,” she repeats, as if she can’t have heard me right. Yasmina picks up her wineglass, seems to reconsider, and sets it down again. “You are such a hypocrite.”
“Guilty.”
My easy admission seems to set her back. She glares. “I lied about college because I know what comes from playing my hand too openly. You already have all the power, and I have none. I’m not going to simply gift you with every piece of me.”
