Paying Daddy's Debt

When I get back downstairs her father is sitting at the table, looking over the paperwork. He stands up when he sees me and starts to ask questions about the financials.

“So you’re going to give me the money or what?”

I’m disgusted those are the first words out of his mouth. Nothing about his daughter or what I could have done to her upstairs. Not even my intentions with her. It’s always about the money.

“I’ve already taken care of your debts around town.” When he gives me a confused look, I shrug. “She was coming with me no matter what you said. But I’m a man of my word.”

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the yellow envelope I was saving. I toss it down on the table, and he reaches out, grabbing it up and opening it.

“That’s all you’ll ever see. You don’t get to come looking for her. You won’t hit me up for more money. Are we clear?”

He barely glances up from the fat stack of hundreds to nod in my general direction. I turn to see Jasmine watching from at the bottom of the stairs. A trace of hurt crosses her face, but then she shakes it away. The scene before her is exactly what she expected, and she’s disappointed it wasn’t different. I plan to spend the rest of my life proving to her this was the right decision.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” I ask, holding my hand out.

She hesitates for only a second before walking to me and putting her hand in mine. There’s an old saying about the devil you know being better than the one you don’t. But in our case, I truly am the prince that’s come to save her. And I’ll make sure she sees that.

“Goodbye,” she says softly to her father.

It’s then he finally looks up from the money he’s counting and sees her standing there with a bag on her shoulder.

He opens his mouth a few times then closes it. He clears his throat. “Good luck.”

“You too,” she replies quietly.

There’s no embrace, no I love yous. Nothing. They stand mere feet apart, but there might as well be an ocean between them. They’re strangers who were pushed together, and this is where their story ends.

But where this one stops, ours starts, and I pull her toward the door. She comes with me easily, and I let out a small, relieved breath. I think there will always be a fear inside me that she may not choose a life with me, but my only hope is to make her so happy, it’s impossible for her to say no.

I take her hand and hold it with both of mine, wanting to hold on to her as tightly as I can.

“Where are we going?” she asks without a trace of fear in her voice.

“Home, sweet Jasmine. I’m taking you home.”

7

Jasmine

Ash takes my bag from me with his free hand, the other still holding my hand, as we exit the building. It’s no longer my home, though it never really felt that way to begin with. A weight lifts from my shoulders as the night air hits my face. I should be freaking out, but I’m not. Maybe now I can try to start over again. I no longer have to worry about my father stealing from me. Maybe I can even get a job.

Ash pulls me toward the street, and a man wearing a dark suit jumps out of the driver’s side of a limo. He’s almost as big as Ash. He comes around and opens the back door. I pull on my hand, but Ash only tightens his hold.

“In,” he orders me.

I take a death breath. “Maybe we can take the bus. One comes every thirty minutes or so.” I nod down toward the bus stop.

“Why would we take the bus when we have a car?” he questions, shaking his head as if I’m making a joke. He pulls me into the limo and I reluctantly follow him. The car door shuts behind me making me jump, but Ash’s hand comes to rest on my leg. Surprisingly, it offers me comfort. Everything about this man feels comforting. That must be why I’m finding it so easy to go with him. He’s yours, a voice whispers in my mind.

“What’s wrong?” he queries, concern on his face. His eyebrows pull together, and it’s like he’s unaccustomed to feeling like this. Something about him seems a little dark, but for some crazy reason I don’t feel like that darkness can touch me. I somehow know he would never allow that.

“I don’t like cars,” I admit. “Buses aren’t so bad. They’re big and lined with windows. I don’t feel so closed in.”

“Hmm.” His hand on my thigh strokes back and forth. The tips of his fingers hit below the hem of my school uniform skirt. “You should relax, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He leans in as his hand slides up higher under my skirt, and I gasp.