More accurately—how often does an owned woman need a stylist?
We finally settle on six dresses. They’re all beautiful in their own way, and every single one of them would give my father a stroke if he saw them. The thought brings me a spiteful kind of pleasure, and I can’t bring myself to feel guilty for it.
It’s only as she’s packing up that I realize what I’m missing. “We forgot underwear. And night clothes. And jeans.” Something to wear in public.
“I didn’t forget shit.” For the first time since she walked through the door, she won’t quite meet my gaze. “I brought what was ordered.”
A kept pet has no need of underclothes or nightgowns or, apparently, street clothes. I pull my robe more firmly around my body and sink onto the couch. “I really am a caged bird, aren’t I?” At least in my father’s house, I could walk the grounds, could feel the open sky overhead, could pretend that the walls weren’t really holding me captive.
I have no such option in Jafar’s penthouse.
Tink hesitates and then moves closer. She looks up at me. “Look, you seem like you’re not completely the worst.”
“Thank you?”
“You’re welcome,” she says it without the least bit of sarcasm. “If you really want out of this thing with Jafar, you can make a deal with Hades. I can’t say I recommend it, so you’d have to be hella desperate to go that route, but it’s an option.”
I swear, half the time this woman sounds like she’s speaking nonsense. “Make a deal with Hades.”
“He rules The Underworld. And yes, rules is the right word. He’s a wily bastard, so don’t let him catch you flat-footed.” Something there in her expression makes me think that she was caught flat-footed, that she made a deal with this Hades.
How badly do I want to be out from Jafar’s control?
Even if Hades was able to give me my freedom, I’ll still be in the same predicament I would have if I took Jafar’s deal. Freedom, but with no path forward. No money, no home, no skills. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She shakes her head and finishing lining up her racks by the elevator. “Remember, princess. Confidence.”
Something I had in spades in my father’s home. At least when it came to dealing with other people. Never him. A confident daughter is one who needs to be reminded of her place.
I hate that his voice rattles around in my head despite my best efforts. He might have clothed and fed me, might have ensured I wanted for nothing, but he kept me from everything that mattered. Human companionship. Friends. Love. It might have been enough if he allowed me a real role in the business, but I was kept even from that. I’m his only child, and I should have been his heir.
I would have been if I was a son.
As a result of how tightly he kept me locked down, I’m as awkward as a child trying to learn to walk. I should be better than this. I can be better than this. “Tink?”
“Mmm?”
“Would you—” Confident, Jasmine. “I’m going to need your services again. In a couple days. We’ll have lunch and talk about the designs I’m thinking of.”
She tilts her head to the side and studies me. “I’m expensive. You can’t afford me.”
“Let me worry about that.”
She shrugs. “Then it’s a deal. I’ll be back at noon on Monday or Tuesday.” She pulls a card out of her purse and passes it to me. It only has her first name and a phone number. “Call me after you’ve talked to him.”
My face flames at the reminder that I have nothing without Jafar’s permission, but I fully intend to extract a promise from him to allow this. It’s the least he can do after everything I’ve given up.
Everything you wanted to give up.
I ignore the voice. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” Again, she hesitates. “Wear the long red one tonight. It’ll cause a riot.”
I manage a smile. “I will.”
The elevator doors open and the same men emerge to wheel her racks away. She doesn’t look at me as the doors close, whisking her away.
I’m alone again.
After my entire life spent like this, I should be used to it. I had nannies and then tutors when I was a child, but all that stopped when I hit eighteen and gained my diploma. A woman only needs to know so much in order to play the role of wife, and that’s all my father ever intended for me. He never wanted to hear about my ideas of bringing our business into the future, to utilize technology for our benefit. He never wanted to hear a single word out of my mouth except, “Yes, Father.”
I take the dresses into my room and hang them up. They look absolutely absurd in the giant closet. A handful of bright colors against so much empty space. A quick check of the clock tells me that I have hours yet.