Bought for Her Innocence

Something swelled in her chest, so intense was her longing to understand him again like she had once.

Her cell phone’s chirp, a text from her mother pleading with Jas for any cash she could spare, pulled her from the trance. A technologically delivered slap to pull her back to her reality, so to speak.

Of course, Dmitri wasn’t worried about her. It was nothing but a ruse to scare her into staying put just so he could feel better about his unwanted duty toward her.

Hadn’t she started this whole thing because she didn’t want to be anyone’s prisoner?

There was an ongoing...negotiation between Dmitri and her, that was all.

A string of softly spoken words, a kind glance and some pasta Alfredo and she was ready to turn into his next groupie.

He owed her nothing, having paid a thousand times over. He had clearly told her that she was but an inconvenience, ordered her to stay on the periphery of his life.

Where was this sense of betrayal coming from then? Dear Lord, how desperate was she for some kind of connection that she projected it onto the first man who had looked at her with nothing but a begrudging kindness? One who had been disgusted by her lifestyle?

The next two hours she spent in the suite waiting for the giant security guard to change shifts was the longest of her life. The minute the clock struck four, she grabbed her handbag, stepped into the lift and ran out of the building.

If she hurried, she could make it to her bank on time and withdraw cash for her mum.

Ten minutes into walking into the neighborhood she grew up in, unease gripped Jasmine.

Something sinuous settled in her belly at the thought of going back to her dinky flat. No, it wasn’t the flat as much as it was the life she didn’t want to lead anymore.

She needed to start a new chapter in her life. Needed to use this time to make a clean break of it, once and for all.

Tomorrow, she would start looking for a new job. As soon as she thought it, her heart sank. The only connections or contacts she had were the ones revolving around the nightclub, her brother’s friends and Noah’s men.

Except for Dmitri.

Dmitri, who it seemed could turn her inside out just by existing.

She spent the next few hours running errands—withdrawing cash, buying groceries and mulling over new career possibilities that would help her earn a hundred thousand pounds fast enough. And catching quite a bit of gossip at her old haunts.

Apparently, the fact that Dmitri had bought her was something of news in their little flea-infested, junkie-ridden neighborhood and she was the star of the feature. The almost envious lewdness that dripped from the comments that in the end she would go in the same career route as her mother, of course with a bit of an upgrade to it, what with Dmitri being a billionaire and all, had been extremely hard to swallow.

Had she thought she was better off here for even a minute? She had no education, no job training, and she knew nothing except keeping herself in good shape and keeping her head down. Hours of rigid exercise and practice had made her a good pole dancer, but what other job could use that?

Her skin clammy with sweat, she packed a quick bag, stuffing in underwear, another pair of jeans, a few blouses and the few cosmetics that she owned.

And the diamond pendant, her one precious belonging, that Andrew had given her for her eighteenth birthday.

This was it.

She was saying goodbye to this life. Her pride and her curious weakness when it came to Dmitri... She would have to find a way to deal with it.

It was past eight when she finally reached her mum’s flat. The same frustration built up inside her as she borrowed the keys from old Mrs. Davies, but this responsibility, Jasmine realized, she couldn’t walk away from. Not until one of them was dead.

She cleaned up the one-bedroom flat, emptied the grocery bags and then loaded up the cardboard boxes with empty bottles. She put the check she had made out at the bank in an envelope and left it on the counter.

The bulky box in hand, she had barely made it down the steps when the hairs on her neck stood up, like the antenna on her mother’s old TV.

The long lines of a dark limo slowly materialized under the sadly flickering streetlight, the sleek vehicle a stark contrast against the dirty pavement.

And leaning against it, his long coat fluttering against the wind, his denim-clad legs crossed at his ankles, stood Dmitri. Moonlight illuminated his face in shadows and strips but still enough for her to see the arctic blaze in his eyes.

Soundlessly, he moved toward her and Jasmine let out a yelp, trying to escape him.

The cardboard box slipped from her fingers and thudded to the ground, the bottles causing a loud tinkling sound. Anything she had been about to say fell away from her in a horrified squeak as he lifted her off the ground, threw her over his shoulder, waited for his chauffeur to open the door.