Page 9 of Desperate Measures
I follow, keeping a few steps back, not bothering to turn on the lights other than the lamp next to the elevator. She reaches up but stops before she touches the glass. “It’s so big.”
It’s really not. Carver City isn’t even in the top twenty of the largest cities in the country, but Yasmina doesn’t care about that shit. This is the widest world she’s ever experienced. I can use that. I’m just bastard enough to do it.
“Let’s discuss terms.”
She turns to face me slowly, as if it’s a challenge to drag herself away from the view. “I was under the impression that terms were set when you growled that I was yours and then threw me over your shoulder like a piece of meat.”
Fair point, but not one I’ll admit. “Come now, Yasmina. You know it’s not as simple as that. Didn’t your father teach you anything?” A low blow, but it’s imperative for this to play out the way I need it to.
She doesn’t flinch. Of course she doesn’t. There’s very little I can say to her that her hated father hasn’t already driven into her head. I’ve seen the way he talks to his daughter, as if she’s shit on the bottom of his shoe. Good only for bargaining away her womb and legacy to the highest bidder. Well, not the highest bidder. If he had, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.
She props her hands on her hips. “You have terms? Fine. I’m listening.”
“You will not leave this building without permission. The penthouse and the floor below it are yours, but nowhere else.”
Her eyes flash. “So I’ve traded one cage for another. Wonderful. Just what I always wanted.”
I ignore that. “Tomorrow, we’ll see about you earning some clothes.”
“Earn some clothes.” Her jaw drops, but she recovers quickly. Yasmina shakes her head. “No. I’m not playing these games with you.” She presses her lips together and then goes in for the kill. “You’re even worse than he is.”
No need to clarify which he she means. There was only ever one in her life. “He sold you to a monster.”
“I don’t think you should be throwing stones about monsters. You were only too happy to jump in and use that to your advantage. Two sides of the exact same coin.” She glares. “I’m not interested in playing.”
I should have better control, should be able to stem the rising tide of anger within me. I didn’t expect her to be grateful—I’m not delusional—but this is bullshit. “If one monster is just as good as other, would you rather I deliver you to Ali? I doubt he’ll care that you’re damaged goods as long as his end goal is achieved. He may even thank me for breaking you in, considering the shit he’s into.”
I see the slap coming and do nothing to stop the blow. She puts enough force in it to turn my head. “Shut. Up.”
She goes for another strike, but I catch her wrist. “No safe words with him, Yasmina. No way out.”
“You’re putting me in a cage. Don’t act like I’m better off here.”
It stings, even as I tell myself there’s no reason for it to. I’m hardly an altruistic man. I may have changed my plan when news of the merger came through, but I always intended to take everything from Balthazar. The man is as much a monster as Ali is, and more unforgivably, he’s bad at business. There’s no reason he shouldn’t own double the territory in Carver City that he does currently, but he’s been too focused on petty bullshit to realize his potential.
That’s fine. His loss is my gain.
I study Yasmina. She’s fucking exhausted. We could stand here and yell at each other all night, but it won’t accomplish a damn thing. Taking Yasmina in the hallway of her father’s home was an impulse I should have been able to deny, but she’s always played fast and loose with my control. I handled it up to this point because the endgame was more important than wanting to sink my cock into that tight little pussy while she went for my throat. Now I get to have my cake and eat it, and I’m not even a little bit sorry about how things have played out.
“We’ll fight about it tomorrow.”
“I don’t want anything of yours. I sure as hell don’t want your charity.” Yasmina unbuttons my shirt with shaking hands. A shrug of her shoulders and it’s on the floor, leaving her gloriously, defiantly naked. She lifts her chin and stares me down. “You want a kept pet. Let’s not pretty it up with whatever you had planned to keep me docile.”
“Docile?” I shake my head and move toward her slowly, enjoying the exact moment she realizes she miscalculated. A flash of something that isn’t quite fear.
Another woman would take that moment to backtrack, to try another angle. Not Yasmina. She all but shoots fire out of her eyes, as if she believes if she puts enough anger and will behind it, she’ll burn me to a crisp.
I sift my fingers through her hair and twisted it around my hand until I force her head back. I lean down, careful not to touch her anywhere but her hair. “You’re about as docile as a rabid tiger.”
“Then you’re the fool who trapped that tiger in your home.”
I don’t bother to argue. She’s right. Every little piece of my life is carefully calculated. It always has been. A man does not rise as far or as fast as I have by letting his baser instincts rise to the fore.
And yet I want her.
I wanted her the moment I laid eyes on her five years ago, when I was first brought into Balthazar’s operation. Twenty years old and as bold and beautiful as the flower she’s named after. I knew better than to touch her then, no matter how much I enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions, no matter how often I read the invitation in her eyes.?3
She’s shaking, and I’m not fool enough to think it’s from desire. She’s exhausted, and beneath that mountain of anger is fear. I force myself to move back, to release her. She’s here, and that’s enough for now. Yasmina’s shaky exhale just confirms it was the right choice to make.
