I do.
Life would be easier if that was my only motivation. Bolstering strength and keeping up appearances. That shit I understand. It’s not, though. I want Jasmine to find her feet in a real way. She’s never had a chance before, and I can be the one to give it to her. Is there a whole lot of possessive pride wrapped up in that sentiment? Yes. I won’t deny it. I want her to fly and to know I was the one who gave her that chance.
I want her to choose me.
The thought almost makes me laugh. Since when did I get so goddamn sentimental? “Tell me something, baby girl.”
“What do you want to know?” She sounds so cold, so prim, I want to make a mess of her.
“Are you digging in your heels simply for the sake of doing it? Because you’re wasting both our time.”
She finally looks at me, really looks at me. There are shadows in her dark eyes that I have no solution to. I am not a caretaker, not a gentle soul that will love her into healing. I wouldn’t know the first place to start with that shit. I have the skills I’ve cultivated over my life, and those will have to be good enough. I push off the counter and hold out a hand. “Come on.”
“What?”
“I think this is a conversation better had under different circumstances.” I wait for her to take my hand and then I haul her over my shoulder. She curses and smacks my back, but I like carrying Jasmine. It soothes something raw inside me to know she’s fully mine, even if only for the duration of the trip. I take the elevator down a floor and stride to the little set-up I ordered put together when I realized Ali had slipped through my grasp again. There will be a time where I’ll happily go out on the town with Jasmine on my arm, but it’s too dangerous right now. Ali is a loose cannon, and while I don’t think he’d snipe Jasmine—not yet—he’s riling up others who might not have the same restraint.
Not to mention the man won’t react well when he realizes that he’ll never lay a hand on Jasmine. Not again.
I set her down slowly, letting her body drag along mine. She presses her hands to my chest and glares up at me. “You have to realize that you can’t just lug me around whenever you feel like it.”
“Do I?” I shouldn’t enjoy needling her this much, but she’s finally snapping and flickering at me, exhibiting the fire I know she carries deep inside. I want it closer to the surface. I don’t want her control.
I just want Jasmine.
Fuck, but I’m in trouble. She was only ever meant to be the pawn she describes herself as, except I’m self-aware enough to acknowledge the truth. This woman worked her way beneath my skin a long time ago. Now that I’ve had her in my home, that I’ve seen her wild with abandon and desire, now that I know exactly how hard she gets off on being bad?
I’ve always dealt in cold hard facts. Ambition like mine can get a man killed if he’s not careful, and I worked my way up the ranks using my brain instead of letting emotion get the best of me. That trait is what makes me better than anyone else around me, and it’s the reason Balthazar never saw me coming. For all his power, he was ruled by impulse and anger and, beneath that, fear.
But if I was the type of man to give way to fantasy, to dream up a woman to be my match in every way?
I don’t have to look far to find her.
She’s standing right in front of me.
I sure as fuck don’t know how to feel about that. Wanting something—someone—this badly is like handing my enemies a loaded gun and relying on a prayer to some imaginary god to save me. They’ll see her as my weak point and they’ll come for her. They’ll keep coming for her.
“Jafar?” She slides her hands up my chest, her brows furrowed. “Daddy, are you okay? You’re shaking.”
I lock it down. I don’t have another choice. Confessing any of this shit to her is out of the question. She’s still got her eye on the door, and knowing that she’ll rip me apart if she tries to leave won’t be enough to stop her. I’d be a fucking idiot to believe otherwise. “Eat with me.”
She blinked those big, dark eyes at me. “I don’t understand you.”
“You don’t have to understand to play along.”
No smile in response. Just a searching look. “Is that all this is? A game to play?”
I can’t dredge up a lie. “No, baby girl. That’s not all this is.”