Fuck.
There’s nothing to do but leave. I take the elevators back down to the ground floor. I’m pulling out my phone as I catch a flash of green from the corner of my eye. I look up as Tink approaches, her expression just as irritated as ever. She shoves a piece of paper at me. “Get her back, asshole.” And then she’s gone, striding into the elevator and jamming the button to close it.
I carefully unfold the paper and hiss out a breath. I recognize Hades’s artful handwriting. That shit is almost calligraphy. The note is short and to the point.
Balthazar’s house.
This balances the scales.
-H
Balances the scales. I take a slow breath. If Ali hadn’t trespassed in The Underworld and pissed Hades off, I’d be shit out of luck right now. I can’t think about that too closely, can’t consider how narrowly this edged in my favor.
I dial Jeremiah. “Stop what you’re doing and get all the men. I know where they are.”
It was time to get my woman.
Chapter 20
Jasmine
Ali requests my presence at dinner. I might laugh at the farce of normality if I had the ability to laugh right now. Instead, I’m sitting across the table from my enemy in a white gown with a letter opener up my sleeve. Not close enough to strike. Not yet.
I listen with half an ear as he goes on and on about how clever he is for outmaneuvering Jafar for this long. About how sorry he is that my father paid the price of Jafar’s betrayal. How happy he is to save me from the enemy. On and on, until I want to clamp my hands over my ears and scream just to drown out his charming voice. It doesn’t matter how many words he spills into my silence; he can’t alter the truth.
Jafar may be the villain of this piece, but he’s not the only one—or even the worst.
I drink my white wine and keep my expression blank. His two men, the only two I’ve seen since we arrived, hold positions on either side of the door to the hallway. Too far away to stop me from using my blade, but then I’m too far away right now, too. I realize I recognize one of them. He’s one of my father’s men, though his name dances on the tip of my tongue. My father wasn’t a fan of encouraging anything resembling familiarity with his daughter, something that will work against me now. This man backing Ali doesn’t bode well for him switching sides to support me.
There is no right time for this. The hungry way Ali watches me tells me everything I need to know. He’ll try something tonight, likely right after dinner. If I’m smart, I’ll wait for us to be alone to make my move. Surely he won’t have his men watch him try to take me. I don’t know, and because I don’t know, I can’t risk it.
That’s not the only reason, though.
Always a pawn, but never a queen.
That’s how I’ve considered myself since the beginning. If I want to change that, truly change that, then it has to be public and it has to send a statement that cannot be refuted. I close my eyes and fling a prayer into the universe. I’m not sure I believe in a higher power, but if one exists, if it’s listening, I can use all the help I can get for what comes next.
“You’re not even paying attention,” Ali snarls.
I open my eyes and wrestle my expression into something resembling a smile. “Of course I am.”
He snaps his fingers. “Come here, Jasmine.” His slow grin makes my stomach clench in revulsion. “I haven’t gotten a look at you in that dress I bought you.” He waits for me to obey, to push to my feet and round the table to stand before him. The dress is fine, if not something I would choose for myself. It hugs my breasts and stomach before flaring out at the hips and falling in a wave to the floor. The high collar might have given it the illusion of modesty if not for the way the fabric clings to my body. I forewent a bra and the way Ali’s gaze zeroes in on my chest is the reason why. If he’s so focused on my breasts, he won’t be watching my wrists.
“Do you know why I chose white?”
Pretending to be interested in this conversation makes me sick, but I manage to keep the emotion from my tone. “Why did you choose white?”
“Because it’s our wedding day, Jasmine.”
That stops me short. I finally look at him, really look at him. “I’m not marrying you, Ali. I was never going to.”
His easy smile remains in place, but his dark eyes flare with anger. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re bought and paid for. Whether or not your father lived long enough to enjoy the riches doesn’t change the fact that you’re mine by contract. Desire has nothing to do with it, but,” He gives me another long look. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”