My rage rises again, so strong it steals my breath from my lungs. I glide a step closer to him. Almost within reach now. “Beautiful, yes. Rich, too, once you reclaim my father’s assets from Jafar.” I almost, almost stumble over his name.
“You’re a prize. There’s no doubt about that.” He holds out a hand. “Come here.”
I place my left hand in his and allow him to pull me close to stand between his thighs. Ali isn’t particularly large, but he’s strong. Stronger than I am, at least. I will my body soft and pliant. “You want to get a look at what you purchased.”
“Can you blame me?” He keeps a grip on my wrist and runs his free hand over me. My stomach. My breasts. My pussy. The way I imagine a man examining a horse for purchase might. There’s no heat in his touch, but that doesn’t stop me from fighting not to be sick. Finally, Ali sits back, his expression contemplative. “Definitely a prize.”
I search for words, but I have nothing except rage. “Ali?”
“Yeah?”
I lean down slowly, my gaze fastened to his mouth. I pretend he’s another man, one with a close beard and wickedly curved lips. Jafar. No, I can’t think of him. Not in this moment. I tug on my wrist, and he releases me so I can run my thumb along his bottom lip. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told another person?”
“What’s that?” His gaze goes a little hazy as I shift closer to straddle him. I have to be close for this to work. I have to be able to strike before he can counter.
I lean down until I’m sure he can feel my breath against his lips. “I would rather die than let you fuck me.” I jam my blade into his throat and wrench with all my strength. He shoves me away, but it’s too late. We’re both covered in blood. His blood. I straighten and force myself to watch as the life flees his dark eyes. I did this. I chose this. I will bear witness.
I lift my blade as the two men reach his body. “You have a choice right now, gentlemen. You can bend a knee or you can join him.”
“You bitch.” The stranger starts for me, violence in his gaze.
He makes it two steps before my father’s man shoots him in the back. We watch him sink to the ground and then I turn my attention to Jonah. That’s his name. I raise my eyebrows, determined not to show the fear slithering through me. “You have something to say, Jonah?”
He slides his gun back into his shoulder holster and considers me. “Your father saw you as a daughter, rather than a person.” When I simply wait, he continues. “You’ve proven that you’re his heir in every way that counts.” He nods at Ali’s body. “Not everyone will follow you, but enough of us will.”
This is what power feels like. The heady sensation leaves me dizzy and breathless, but I let none of it filter through to my expression. I glance down at my dress. Red paints the front and soaks the hem. As much as I want to rip it from my body, it sends a message I would be foolish not to utilize. “Gather them.” I absently clean my blade on the dress and roll my shoulders. “The foyer.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
It’s only when he’s gone that I consider this could be a trap. But to what end? Jonah could have just as easily attempted to do what both Jafar and Ali did—use me to send his shooting star right to the top of the hierarchy. It might even work. It seemed to well enough for the others.
If it’s not a trap?
Perhaps there are those who don’t want to rock the boat. Who were pleased with the way of things before Jafar’s coup and would be just as happy to go back to that at the earliest opportunity. I can’t blame them for the desire, for wanting to throw their lot in with the person they believe will make that happen.
I make my way slowly to the foyer. My dress leaves red marks on the tile behind me, which is a mood all on its own. I keep my chin up and shoulders back, even when faced with twenty men, each of which could kill me with the brush of a finger against a trigger. No one looks particularly aggressive, but it’s up to me to ensure things stay that way.
They part to allow me through to the stairs, and I feel their attention like a physical weight against my skin. So much expectation, and I’ll only have one shot to convince them I can deliver. I take a shallow breath and project my voice. “I am my father’s daughter.” The truth, even if it sits ill in my chest. “We have had pretender after pretender attempt to use me to cement your loyalty.” The thought of Jafar almost stops me cold. He’ll never forgive me for this, for snatching this power right out from underneath him. This operation was something he’d planned on since he took the position with my father, and now I’m placing myself squarely between him and his ambition, forcing him to choose.