Ali shrugs like he thinks he’s some kind of prize fighter. “Play nice, Jasmine, or you won’t like what comes next.”
I straighten slowly and stare him down. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
He must expect me to fall to my knees and beg for mercy, because my calm seems to rattle him. Ali shakes his head. “I’ll come for you later.” And then he’s gone, sweeping out of the room and slamming the door behind him. I listen and, sure enough, the lock clicks as he seals me in. It seems I am forever destined to be locked away by men.
No longer.
I cross to my desk, to the spot on the floor where, half hidden by my rug, my sharp letter opener lays where it fell that first night. I hesitated then, whether because of nerves or because some part of me recognized the man in my room as Jafar.
I won’t hesitate again.
The letter opener feels good against my palm, its cool a contrast to the angry heat throbbing in my cheek where Ali hit me. A feeling wells up inside me, the sensation akin to seeing a train barreling down the tracks in my direction. I could try to flee, but the train is inside me. There is no escape. Instead I welcome it with open arms, embracing the emotion fully and letting it permeate every part of me.
Rage.
It’s blades and fire and pain, twenty-five years cumulation of it. How many times have I swallowed this emotion down, again and again until I’d surely choke? So many nights spent staring into the darkness and wondering if it mirrored what I held inside me.
Now I know the truth.
I take a breath, and then another, forcing air into my lungs. Rage is only useful if it doesn’t hamper my ability to think and plan. I glance at the door. Ali will come for me. If not today, then tonight. He can’t cement his power grab without appearing to bring me to heel, just like Jafar needed the appearance of doing the same.
Always the pawn and never the queen.
Fuck. That.
I’m taking the throne now, and if I have to cut Ali to pieces in the process, he deserves nothing less. In fact, I welcome the violence. I take a step toward the door before I catch myself and turn to the desk. I may have learned to pick the lock of my bedroom door when I was all of seven years old, but walking out of this room without a plan is foolish in the extreme. That’s the rage talking, and I need logic to guide my steps, even if the anger is what will give me the strength to do what needs to be done.
The strength to kill Ali.
Chapter 19
Jafar
“She’s gone.”
After last night, I spent all day waiting for this call. Knowing what we shared wasn’t enough to keep Jasmine at my side.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Keep a man on her for the time being.” As tempting as it is to track Jasmine down and haul her ass back to the penthouse, if I do that, I’ll break something between us. Something new and fragile and infinitely rarer than I could have dreamed.
I love her.
The truth should be cause for celebration. She loves me, too. She might not have said it aloud, but it’s there in the trust she places in me every time we interact. Relationships have been started on less, and ours has a whole hell of a lot of foundation—and baggage. It’s the latter that we have to work through, and right now that means Jasmine needs her space. When I put her in the penthouse, I wondered how long it would take her to figure out how to override the elevators. Her father tried to lock her up, too, but she always managed to slip free of the barriers he put in place. A locked door had nothing on that woman.
Yes, I love her, and that means I have to let her go.
Jeremiah clears his throat. “Sorry, Jafar, I wasn’t clear. Someone outside hacked the elevators to take her down to the parking garage. I have her getting into a car I’ve traced back to The Underworld.”
I go still. “Did she make a deal?” It’s more rhetorical question than anything, but Jeremiah answers me all the same.
“I don’t think so. It took us a few minutes before we realized she’d left the building, but they didn’t go straight back to the club. They took a detour to a hotel around the corner.” A hesitation, the only warning I get before he delivers unwelcome news. “They dropped her there. With Ali.”
My vision goes white for several seconds and it’s all I can do to breathe through the fury. “Then Ali is the one who made the deal.”