Page 51 of Desperate Measures
“Too bad. That’s exactly what I want.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
We’ll get there. I have plenty of time to play the long game with this. I ease back. “Tell me about college.”
“Fine.” She smooths her dress and meets my gaze. “I want to major in software engineering.”
Now it’s my turn to blink in surprise. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Why would you? All you see is a pretty face. All anyone sees is a pretty face. No one bothers to ask me what I want or what my interests are. They certainly don’t stop to think that my brain might be more valuable to the business than my pussy is.”
I’m guilty of that, but I’m not about to apologize. I saw more of her than either her father or Ali did, but apparently I didn’t see deeply enough. “Talk me through it.”
She considers me, probably expecting me to laugh at her expense, but I genuinely want to hear her thoughts on it. I’ve underestimated Yasmina again and again, and I’m determined to correct course.
Finally, she draws herself up. “Many of our day-to-day operations are borderline archaic. Creating counterfeit paper money?” She shakes her head. “It’s time to step into the future. A large percentage of the world’s wealth is digital now. With the right minds involved, we could take a stake in that with half the manpower and significantly less overhead cost.”
“Paper money works.” It’s also one of the least offensive things we do in our territory.
“Yes, yes.” She waves that away. “I wouldn’t dream of decreasing that operation. My point is that balance is key. Relying only on paper money is like nibbling at crumbs that have fallen from a table piled high with food. We can increase our profit exponentially if we do it correctly.”
We.
I don’t think she realizes what she’s said, the slip of her tongue that indicates the truth—when she looks into the future, she sees us there together. I choose not to comment on it, enjoying this conversation too much to push her on a personal front. “How many people would you need?”
Her smile fades slowly. “I don’t know. The college degree is only the start of it, and I’m already seven years behind where I would be if my father had allowed it when I first suggested the idea. I stopped looking into programs when he cut off that option. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
My offer to send her to college was as much to keep her busy as to help her blossom. This is something else altogether. “Have you considered a less traditional education?”
“Jafar, I haven’t considered anything until an hour ago when you sprang this on me. After my father forbade me from going to college, I managed to learn the basics on my own, but it seemed too cruel to continue when it wouldn’t amount to anything.”
I incline my head to acknowledge her point, but I’m already spinning out possibilities. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to find someone with the skill set you’re talking about. They’d have to come here, of course, but we can arrange that.” I tap my fingers on the table. “I’ll get Jeremiah looking into it tomorrow.” I could ask Hades. He has the kinds of connections that ensure he can find anything or anyone, so a person with this skill set should be child’s play. But there is the price of his help to consider. I won’t ask him until I’m sure I can’t do it myself.
“Just like that.”
“Just like that.”
She gives me a look like she’s never seen me before. “I don’t understand you. You lock me up but then you do this. And there’s the sex.”
Amusement flickers through me, but I push it down deep. She might give the impression of a kitten staring at a grasshopper, but I know better. The woman has claws. I won’t undermine her wavering self-confidence, and once I decide that, it’s the easiest thing in the world to relax into this conversation. “Elaborate.”
“I’m sorry, I was assuming you could pull the thought right out of my mind the same way you do with my sexual fantasies.”
Ah. That.
I take a long drink of my wine and consider her. “We’ve spent a long time circling each other, baby girl. Over the years, you’ve given yourself away in a thousand different tells, but the real deciding factor was the night I staged the coup.” My blood heats at the memory. “I would have let you walk out, you know.”
“I know.” She fiddles with her napkin. “I wanted you to catch me.”
“I’m aware.”
She frowns. “You’ve checked in with me a lot, haven’t you? Not overtly, but you’re constantly analyzing and shifting to accommodate my reactions.” Yasmina frowns harder. “It’s hard to tell in the moment, but that’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I set my wineglass down. “No matter what flavor of games we play, it’s about giving you what you need.”
“And what do you need.”
“You.”?4 The admission slips free before I can stop it. Too late to take it back, to alter the course I’ve just set us on.
