Desperate Measures: A Wicked Villains Novel

by Katee Robert

  Tink snorts and sets to work getting the racks arranged how she wants them. “As if we have a choice. You’re the boss lady.”

  “Hardly.” Meg lifts one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “We all answer to Hades.”

  She seemed happy enough to stand at his right hand the other night, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that appearances can be deceiving. It’s a whole new world out there, and I can’t afford to assume anything. “Good afternoon, Meg.”

  “So proper, this one.” She shares a telling glance with Tink. “We’re not on the books right now. You can relax.”

  Somehow, I don’t think that’s remotely the truth. I wonder if Jafar knows Meg planned on showing up when he’s not around, and I suspect he wouldn’t like it. I open my mouth to tell her as much, but stop myself. We’re in Jafar’s penthouse, and no doubt the exits are all watched by guards and more cameras than I care to think about. It’s not as if Meg can knock me over the head and smuggle me off to a secondary location.

  I finally perch on the edge of the couch across the one she’s sprawled over. “You have a reason for being here.”

  “Do I?” She stops playing with her hair and gives me a slow grin that sends my stomach tumbling over itself. “Maybe I just wanted to play, Jasmine. You’re a gorgeous girl, and watching Jafar fuck you was really something else.”

  My skin heats at the thought of what kind of games she could mean, but it’s a distant feeling. Not overwhelming like my desire for Jafar. I am attracted to Meg. If Jafar arranged for us to play in the kind of scenario he described the other night, I would allow myself to be swept away.

  But not like this.

  Not behind his back.

  I keep my spine straight and my expression even. “Tell me why you’re really here or get out.”

  She considers me for a long moment and shrugs. Just like that, all signs of seduction disappear and she goes cold in a way that has me realizing exactly how badly I’ve underestimated her. Meg leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. “I can get you out.”

  I barely dare draw breath. I don’t let myself look to where Tink stands to the side, uncharacteristically silent. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re a pretty bird locked in a prettier cage.” She flicks a hand to encompass the penthouse. “I can get you out.”

  “Freedom doesn’t feel much like freedom when I have nothing.” Jafar offered to release my trust fund. I don’t know that I trust him enough to believe that it’s not some kind of trap, but I certainly don’t trust Meg to offer something without a thousand strings attached.

  She eyes me. “I’ll give you enough funds to get you going and a new identity that can pave the way for a fresh start. You show every evidence of being a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll land on your feet if you give yourself the chance to.”

  Temptation slithers through me. She’s the snake in the garden of Eden, whispering about a world I’ve only glimpsed through the wall that surrounds me. Offering me freedom that might be anything but. “There’s a catch.”

  “The only catch is that you leave Carver City and don’t come back. I can cover your trail so no one will find you as long as you’re not an idiot.”

  Her plan unfurls before me, and I can almost admire her for the move. Without me here, playing the part of the war prize, Jafar’s position will be weakened. I doubt it’s enough to oust him completely, but it means that he’ll be challenged. Repeatedly. It will keep him busy enough that he won’t be able to look to expand until he’s ground up every bit of rebellion within his own territory. I tilt my head to the side. “You have no reason to think Jafar won’t be happy with what he has.”

  “Smart little thing, aren’t you?” A little respect filters into her blue eyes. “Jafar was born hungry. He might be satisfied with what he has for a few years, but eventually he’ll start eyeing the territory boundaries and pushing against the other players. He’ll take Hook first, because it’s the smallest amount of ground to cover, but that will only buoy him.” She shakes her head. “We don’t exactly have peace in Carver City, but what we have is close enough to it. No one is allowed to rock the boat. Not even Jafar.”

  On the surface, it makes sense, but …

  Something’s still off.

  “What price?”

  Meg doesn’t blink. “What price can you put on freedom? No, Jasmine. No price, no deal. Just an offer that’s mutually beneficial.”

  I don’t know if I believe her. Does it make sense to undermine Jafar now, rather than wait until he’s secured his base? Yes, most definitely. But after Tink’s talk about Hades’s deals—and this offer can only come from Hades, for all that it’s Meg’s mouth forming the words—I can’t help thinking that there’s another shoe waiting to drop. That when it does, it will crush me.

  Either way, I’d be a fool to turn her down completely. “Can I think about it?”

  “Sure.” Another of those graceful shrugs. “But the offer expires in seven days, so think fast.” She pushes to her feet and smiles. “See you around, Jasmine.”

  I don’t move until the elevator doors close behind her, and even then I count to ten slowly before I let the steel bleed out of my spine and slump back against the couch. “Is it always like that with her?”

  Tink snorts. “Usually, it’s worse.” She gives herself a shake. “Rumor has it that Meg was like you when she first got to Carver City. A princess, for all intents and purposes, though she left everything to flee … I don’t know. Something. It’d have to be bad to rattle her.” She flips through the racks and tosses me a dress. “She found her way to Hades and made a deal.”

  I drop my robe and pull on the dress. It’s a style actually suitable for day wear, a sheath dress in a cream that looks good with my darker coloring. “What kind of deal?”

  “Dunno. Hades doesn’t exactly proclaim the terms from the top of the tallest tower.” She eyes me. “That’s a keeper. Try this one.”

  Another dress, this one a deep red that’s fitted through the torso and flares out around my hips, the hem stopping just past my knees. “I like it.”

  “Of course you do. I picked it for you.” She waits for me to strip out of it and sets it aside in the pile. “But anyway, that was before my time. As long as I’ve been around, it’s Meg and Hades, Hades and Meg.”

  I give myself a few moments to indulge in the fantasy of being the right hand to a man like that. To Jafar. Meg and Hades are as close to equals as I’ve ever seen. Maybe they even are equals, their relationship originating in a deal or no.

  Jafar and I will never get there. He’s too intent on keeping me closed in, keeping me safe, simply keeping me. “There’s something romantic about that.”

  “If you say so.” She shrugs and passes over another garment. “I’m not going to tell you not to take her offer, but, be careful, princess. Meg can be cool, but she’s as much about the bottom line as Hades. A deal is a mess, but at least they’ll honor their part of it. Once Hades gives his word, it’s as good as done. This offer stinks.”

  I’m inclined to agree, but having an escape hatch is attractive in a way I can’t put into words. This is the first time in my life I’ve had actual options, albeit ones that aren’t overly attractive. I can stay with Jafar, continue to be his … I’m not even sure what I am to him.

  Prize. Statement. Submissive.

  He’s not a complete sociopath, so he treats me well enough, but that could very well be linked to wanting to keep me docile so I’ll keep fucking him. I press my fingertips to my temples. “This whole thing hurts my head.”

  “I don’t envy you. My deal is shit, but at least it’s straightforward.”

  I open my mouth to ask what her deal is, but reconsider at last moment. If she wants me to know, she’ll tell me. “What would you do?”

  “Can’t tell you that.” Tink pulls out a dress, looks at it, and puts it back on the rack. “You have to make the choice you can live with, whatever that looks like.”

  She’s right
. It’s a choice I have to make for myself, for better or worse. I manage a smile. “I appreciate you being frank with me.”

  “You don’t have a lot of allies. I’m a dick, but even I can’t kick someone when they’re down.” She turns with two pairs of pants in her hands. “Now, onto more important things. Jeans or slacks? What are you feeling?”

  “Jeans.” I’ve only owned a single pair and I had to sneak them in because my father had strong opinions about what was considered appropriate clothing. Denim didn’t make the cut.

  “Girl after my own heart.” She pulls out several more pairs and drops them next to me. “Work through this pile and tell me what you like and we’ll go from there.”

  We pass the next hour like that, and I can tell Tink intentionally keeps the conversation away from trickier topics. As much as I want to drill her for information, I allow it. She’s been kind to me, but at the end of the day, she owes her allegiance to Hades and I’m not fool enough to think two styling appointments can sway that.

  After she leaves, I dress carefully. I don’t know what Jafar has planned for tonight, and even as part of me tangles with the concept of taking Meg’s offer, the rest of me is abuzz with anticipation.

  How can this be?

  The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be free. To make my own choices, to live without a sword hanging over my neck. To move through the world as a normal person.

  Meg’s offer would give me that.

  No doubt I’d have to make some allowances for lifestyle. She may give me enough money to get me started, but I’ll have to learn fast on my feet, starting from the ground up. The idea of it is staggering. Just a few nights ago, I told Jafar I couldn’t do it on my own. What if I was wrong? What if I can?

  He won’t let me go.

  Even if he releases my trust fund—and I have my doubts about that—he won’t let me leave the city. I can pretend having money of my own will put us closer to equal footing, but it’s a lie. Jafar is too overwhelming. He touches me, and I forget all the reasons I don’t want any of the life he’s shoved me into. I start to think that maybe this beautiful cage isn’t so bad, as long as he’s in here with me.

  Except he’s not in here with me.

  He has all the power.

  I have none.

  Jafar walks out of the elevators as I pour a glass of wine. He looks a decadent as ever, though the image is smudged. His charcoal suit is tailored to perfection, but his brown skin glistens as if he’s recently run. The thought of Jafar running home to me is too intoxicating to dwell on, so I turn my attention to his hair. He’s due for a cut; the waves have morphed into curls, a change that almost makes him seem more approachable.

  More touchable.

  He checks his stride and pivots to head in my direction, his purposeful steps eating up the length of the living room. He rounds the kitchen island and stops short. I try not to warm at the way he drinks in the sight of me, but it’s a heady feeling to have Jafar’s full attention. To have him appreciating.

  I take a shaky sip of my wine. “You’re late.”

  “I’m sorry.” The apology might sound more sincere if his voice hadn’t dropped an octave. “There was a complication.”

  I don’t want to ask, but I can’t seem to help myself. “Ali?”

  “Still in the wind.” Jafar nods at the wine bottle. “Pour me one?”

  If he tried to command me, I might dig in my heels simply for the sake of doing it. I’ve already lost so much, and every moment I spend in his presence is a moment where I question whether I really want to escape.

  Yes. The answer must be yes.

  I pour a second glass of wine and pass it over. Jafar takes a long drink and leans a hip against the counter. For the first time in … ever … he looks like a man. Simply a man. Gorgeous beyond belief, yes, but merely human instead of this hurricane that rips me from my foundations with every word and touch.

  He runs a hand through his hair, the move obviously the source of his curls getting the best of him. “I underestimated him.”

  I blink. “You mean you’re not all-knowing and all-powerful?”

  “Very funny, brat.” His second drink of wine is shorter, but the tension riding his shoulders seems to ease a little. “The majority of my focus was on undermining your father and staging the coup. If I had waited, this wouldn’t be an issue, because I could have handled them both at the same time. But, I didn’t wait.” A shrug. “I’ll get him in the end. He’s good, but I’m better.”

  I pick apart that statement. He’s said something to the same effect before, but we usually end up fighting or fucking before I can dig deeper. “You changed your timeline for me.”

  For a moment, I think he might deflect. “Yes. I could tell you that the reason is because a marriage is a whole hell of a lot harder to dismantle than a parental relationship when it comes to a shift of power, and it’d even be the truth. But not the full truth.” He sets his glass down and meets my gaze directly. “I’ve seen what’s left of the women who share Ali’s bed.”

  My breath stalls in my lungs. I reach for a response, any response, to dispel the tension building between us. I try for a wry smile. “Does he chase them through his house and then fuck them right there in the middle of the floor when he catches them?”

  “Don’t do that.” Jafar shakes his head.

  “Don’t do what?” I’m being intentionally dense, but we’re posed on the edge of precipice and I don’t know what will happen to us if we tumble over the edge. We won’t be able to go back. That’s the only certainty.

  He doesn’t move from his spot, doesn’t approach to touch me in a way that will bring me to my knees in submission. His brows draw down over dark eyes. “Have I ever done anything to do you that you didn’t want?”

  I expect a challenge in the question, a prideful assertion of a truth we both know. Of course he’s never done anything to me that I didn’t want. I’ve desired Jafar ever since I set eyes on him, first because he was forbidden to me and, later, because I like the way I spark to life when he’s near. Our verbal sparring sessions were the highlight of my life, a few short minutes where I felt like a real person and not simply a golem, going through the motions at someone else’s command.

  Except that’s not what I see in his expression.

  He looks almost sick.

  “I’ve wanted it. All of it. More.” Words to damn me. Words to pass him all the power and leave me quivering at his feet. How am I supposed to walk away from this man when his key turns my lock in a way I’ve only ever read about? If my books are to be believed, this kind of connection comes around once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. What kind of fool would I be to run from that?

  One who wants to be free.

  Jafar nods slowly. “To the original topic—I couldn’t let him get his hands on you, so I moved the timeline.”

  I’m not naive enough to think that he did it solely for me. He’s told me as much. It doesn’t change the fact that my safety has never been a priority for anyone. Oh, the safety of my body to keep my father’s prized possession in peak condition and unmarred? Yes, that mattered. But that’s not what Jafar is talking about. Not bruises and cuts and things that will heal given enough time.

  He’s talking about wounds that will scar even if no one can see evidence of them on my skin.

  I sip my wine. “Thank you?”

  “Don’t thank me. If I had half a conscience, I wouldn’t have taken you.”

  And then Ali would have tracked me down and brought me back. That’s the truth, one we’ve discussed between us. I don’t understand why he’s conveniently forgetting it now, why he’s chosen to flog himself with our situation. I frown. “What happened this weekend?” This is the moment, the precipice, the point of no return where he’ll let me in or he’ll keep me walled up in this penthouse in the name of safety. I hold my breath and wait.

  Jafar picks up his wine glass again. “Have you thought about starting school?”

  It t
akes every skill I possess to keep my expression placid despite the dizzying feeling of being dashed to pieces. Jafar cares about me. Even if he’s a cold bastard, I’ve never really doubted that. But he doesn’t see me as capable, not really. I’m a valued possession, a pet who needs careful care taking in order to thrive. I’m not strong enough to be equal to him.

  If I stay here, I never will be.

  Chapter 16

  Jafar

  Something’s changed, and I can’t put my finger on what. It doesn’t help that I’m distracted over this clusterfuck of a weekend. Six of my men are gone, disappeared as if they never existed, and I have only Ali to blame. He’s not scared of the force I can bring against him, and he’s not in the wind like I first thought. If anything, getting access to Jasmine at The Underworld emboldened him. He’ll keep striking until I put him down, but I can’t fucking find him to remove the threat he represents.

  When Jasmine doesn’t answer, I prod her again. “School?”

  “Oh.” She examines her wine glass. “I suppose I’d like to college, but I haven’t put much thought into it.”

  She’s not telling me the truth. I can see it in the way her eyes drop, in the nervous twitch of her fingers against the counter. She told no lies when she said she’s wanted everything I’ve given her and more, but she’s lying now.

  “I find that hard to believe.” I keep my voice mild. “The entire time I’ve known you, you’ve had your face pressed against the bars of your cage and your eyes on the future. Don’t tell me that plan didn’t include college.”

  Jasmine gives me a brittle smile. “When would I have gone to college, Jafar? When I married some man like Ali? Future plans aren’t for people like me. I’m a pawn in a larger game. I always have been.”

  Who is this woman? Where is the fire that seems ready to burst from her skin normally? I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “You’re going to college.”

  The look she gives me can only be described as withering. “That’s not your decision to make.”