Desperate Measures: A Wicked Villains Novel Read online

  Connected.

  Forever.

  She’s mine now the same way her father’s fortune and business and allies are now mine.

  My gaze tracks the curve of the bruise darkening her cheekbone. It’s not particularly brutal as bruises go, but what it represents has an inferno of fury spiraling up through me. That fucker kept her in a cage, playing the doting father when it served his purposes, and sold her to that little shit of an upstart. Then he had the audacity to strike her when she protested?

  I’m no better than he is in so many ways, but when I strike a woman, it’s because she damn well wants it. Because she gets off on it. Balthazar Sarraf hit his daughter the same way a man kicks a dog because it didn’t immediately follow his orders.

  It’s a shame he’s already dead, because I would happily kill him for this sin alone.

  “Stop staring at me.”

  I ask the thing I should have thought about before shoving my cock into her. “Are you on birth control?”

  She shoots me a surprised look. “Of course. I have an IUD.”

  Of course. As if it’s a given. “How did you manage that?”

  “Our family doctor likes bribes and hates my father. It only took one of my mother’s heirloom pieces to convince him to give me one.” She runs her fingers through her hair almost absently. “I don’t have control of so many things—of anything—but I ensured I’d at least have control of whether or not I have children.”

  Jasmine always was more savvy than her father gave her credit for. She’s managed to work around him at least a dozen times since I joined the organization, and those are just the ones I noticed.

  “I’m tested regularly,” I finally say. “You have nothing to worry about from me on that front.”

  “That’s good. I have to worry about you on every other front.” She turns and stares out the window. She doesn’t look away as we drive into town and the city creeps up around us.

  It strikes me that she’s never seen any of this before. Sarraf kept expansive and immaculate grounds surrounded by a truly impressive wall and security system. He may have traveled extensively, but his daughter had been confined to the property. For her safety, of course.

  To keep her under his thumb, more like.

  I have no high horse to stand on when it comes to that. I want Jasmine confined, too. My collar on her neck, its chain never far from my hand. I want her on her knees in subservience. I want to fucking ruin her.

  If there’s a good guy in this scenario, it’s not my part to play.

  I let the silence drag out as we pass through the streets. This time of night Carver City is far from empty, but the traffic that plagues the streets during rush hour is long gone. It barely takes us an hour before my driver pulls into The Underworld parking garage that is our destination. He parks and waits, as he’s trained to do. I own the building. The security here is above reproach, but I prefer it to be understated. Cameras and tech instead of burly guards reminding a person that they constantly had to watch their words, their actions, their tells.

  Better for my purposes that they forget themselves.

  I climb out of the car and take a step back, waiting for her to follow me.

  I should know better by now.

  Jasmine crosses her arms over her chest and glares. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to heel?”

  “A good pet would.”

  Her dark eyes flash in anger, and fuck if I don’t enjoy it. She’s beautiful in a fierce way that demands the attention of any room she enters—long wavy black hair, light brown skin, and a mouth made to wrap around my cock. Those lips form words that have my blood heating in response. “Fuck. You.”

  “I. Did.” I bend down and snag her ankle, towing her across the seat. She tries to kick me in the face, her first show of spirit since I put my shirt on her. It soothes something in me that I refuse to examine too closely. She’s no good to me damaged. No matter what narrative she uses to attempt to write what happened, we both know the truth.

  I pull her out of the car, spin her around, and bend her over the trunk. “Jasmine,” I say mildly. “Tell me your safe word.”

  The slightest of hesitations, as if she wants to refuse me this. Finally, she spits it out. “Rajah.”

  I lean over her, letting the weight of my body pin her in place. “You wanted me to save you from the deal your father made. I did. This is my price.” I could take her here, like this, and she’ll curse me to hell and back, but she’ll thrust back on my cock and scream my name as she comes.

  It’s not the time for that. I’m dancing on the edge of reason with her already, and any more tonight is a mistake. It takes several precious moments to reclaim control of myself. “We can stay here all night and fight if you want, but there’s a meal, a bath, and a bed upstairs. The only person your resistance hurts is yourself.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’ll sleep in your bed.”

  I chuckle, knowing it will make her see red. “A place in my bed isn’t punishment, Jasmine. It’s a reward. A reward you haven’t earned. Not by half.”

  Her indignant huff makes me smile, though I smooth out my expression before I take a step back and allow her to turn around. She shoves her hair out of her eyes just so she can shoot me a glare. “You’re a dick.”

  “And you’re a brat.” I motion to the elevators. “Want to continue to trade insults or do you want to go up?”

  I can actually see her weighing her options before she turns and marches toward the door, every inch of her as regal as a queen. It’s only then that I realize she’s walking in this fucking place with bare feet.

  I scoop her up, ignoring her curses, and move quickly to the elevator. Once we’re inside, I set her on her feet.

  She tries to punch me in the throat.

  I laugh as I catch her fist. I can’t help it. The woman never ceases to fight when she should flee, or to mouth off when she should shut up. True to form, she gives a snarl worthy of any predator. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

  So it’ll be like that, will it?

  I use my hold on her hand to yank her against my chest and then I band an arm across her lower back. She fights me, but there’s no winning. Not with our size difference. Not when I’m so much stronger.

  I wait for that realization to wash over her, for her to go still. It takes her longer to stop fighting than most, and even then she glares up at me as if I’m a bug she’d like to squash.

  “You have the ability to stop this. One little word, Jasmine, and the game ends. That’s all it’s ever taken with us.”

  She clamps her mouth shut, though her anger doesn’t appear to abate.

  “Now that we have that settled …” The elevator doors open and I walk her backwards into my penthouse. I wait for the doors to shut behind me, closing off the exit unless one has the key, and then I release her.

  She takes several large steps back. Though I can tell she wants to rip another strip off me, her curiosity gets the better of her. Jasmine turns in a slow circle. I follow her gaze, seeing the place through her filter. Wide open space with luxurious furniture, the color scheme minimalist in its extreme. Black furniture. White walls and pale wooden floors. The windows stretch the entire length of the penthouse, going from room to room, offering a view of Carver City.

  That’s where she heads.

  I follow, keeping a few steps back, not bothering to turn on the lights other than the lamp next to the elevator. She reaches up, but stops before she touches the glass. “It’s so big.”

  It’s really not. Carver City isn’t even in the top twenty of the largest cities in the country, but Jasmine doesn’t care about that shit. This is the widest world she’s ever experienced.

  I can use that.

  I’m just bastard enough to do it.

  “Let’s discuss terms.”

  She turns to face me slowly, as if it’s a challenge to drag herself away from the view. “I was under the impression that terms w
ere set when you growled that I was yours and then threw me over your shoulder like a piece of meat.”

  Fair point, but not one I’ll admit. “Come now, Jasmine. You know it’s not as simple as that. Didn’t your father teach you anything?” A low blow, but it’s imperative that this plays out the way I need it to.

  She doesn’t flinch. Of course she doesn’t. There’s very little I can say to her that her hated father hasn’t already driven into her head. I’ve seen the way he talks to his daughter, as if she’s shit on the bottom of his shoe. Good only for bargaining away her womb and legacy to the highest bidder.

  Well, not the highest bidder. If he had, we wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with.

  She props her hands on her generous hips. “You have terms? Fine. I’m listening.”

  “You will not leave this building without permission. The penthouse and the floor below it are yours, but nowhere else.”

  Her eyes flashed. “So I’ve traded one cage for another. Wonderful. Just what I always wanted.”

  I ignore that. “Tomorrow, we’ll see about you earning some clothes.”

  “Earn some clothes.” Her jaw drops, but she recovers quickly. Jasmine shakes her head. “No. I’m not playing these games with you.” She presses her lips together and then goes in for the kill. “You’re even worse than he is.”

  No need to clarify which he she means. There was only ever one in her life. “He sold you to a monster.”

  “I don’t think you should be throwing stones about monsters. And you were only too happy to jump in and use that to your advantage. Two sides of the exact same coin.” She glares. “I’m not interested in playing.”

  I should have better control, should be able to stem the rising tide of anger within me. I didn’t expect her to be grateful—I’m not delusional—but this is bullshit. “If one monster is just as good as other, would you rather I deliver you to Ali? I doubt he’ll care that you’re damaged goods as long as his end goal is achieved. He may even thank me for breaking you in, considering the shit he’s into. ”

  I see the slap coming and do nothing to stop the blow. She puts enough force in it to turn my head. “Shut. Up.”

  She goes for another strike, but I catch her wrist. “No safe words with him, Jasmine. No way out.”

  “You’re putting me in a cage. Don’t act like I’m better off here.”

  It stings, even as I tell myself there’s no reason for it to. I’m hardly an altruistic man. I may have changed my plan when news of the merger came through, but I always intended to take everything from Balthazar. The man is as much a monster as Ali is and, more unforgivably, he’s bad at business. There’s no reason he shouldn’t own double the territory in Carver City that he does currently, but he’s been too focused with petty bullshit to realize his potential.

  That’s fine.

  His loss is my gain.

  I study her. She’s fucking exhausted. We could stand here and yell at each other all night, but it won’t accomplish a damn thing. Taking Jasmine in the hallway of her father’s home was an impulse I should have been able to deny, but she’s always played fast and loose with my control. I handled it up to this point because the end game was more important than wanting to sink my cock into that tight little pussy while she went for my throat.

  Now I get to have my cake and eat it, and I’m not even a little bit sorry about how things have played out.

  “We’ll fight about it tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want anything of yours. I sure as hell don’t want your charity.” Jasmine unbuttons my shirt with shaking hands. A shrug of her shoulders and it’s on the floor, leaving her gloriously, defiantly naked. She lifts her chin and stares me down. “You want a kept pet. Let’s not pretty it up with whatever you had planned to keep me docile.”

  “Docile?” I shake my head and move toward her slowly, enjoying the exact moment she realized she miscalculated. A flash of something that isn’t quite fear. Another woman would take that moment to backtrack, to try another angle. Not Jasmine. She all but shoots fire out of her eyes, as if she believes if she put enough anger and will behind it, she’ll burn me to a crisp.

  I sift my fingers through her hair and twisted it around my hand until I force her head back. I lean down, careful not to touch her anywhere but her hair. “You’re about as docile as a rabid tiger.”

  “Then you’re the fool who trapped that tiger in your home.”

  I don’t bother to argue. She’s right. Every little piece of my life is carefully calculated. It always has been. A man does not rise as far or as fast as I have by letting his baser instincts rise to the fore.

  And yet, I want her.

  I wanted her the moment I laid eyes on her five years ago, when I was first brought into Balthazar’s operation. Twenty years old and as bold and beautiful as the flower she’s named after. I knew better than to touch her then, no matter how much I enjoyed our verbal sparring sessions, no matter how often I read the invitation in her eyes.

  She’s shaking, and I’m not fool enough to think it’s from desire. She’s exhausted and beneath that mountain of anger is fear.

  I force myself to move back, to release her. She’s here, and that’s enough for now. Jasmine’s shaky exhale just confirms it was the right choice to make. I head toward the hallway. “This way.”

  “I really, really hate you right now.”

  I ignore that and walk deeper into the penthouse. Several seconds later, the sound of her footsteps padding after me make me smile. Even when she’s fighting me tooth and nail, there’s a core of submissiveness there that draws me, a moth to flame. Being burned to death isn’t on the agenda. I’m in control, and the sooner she learns that, the smoother this will go.

  The spare bedroom is rarely used. I’m not in the habit of allowing people into my home, let alone inviting them to stay for any length of time. When I fuck, I do it at the club. It saves me the trouble of anyone getting the wrong idea.

  It’s as neutral as the rest of my home. Clean lines, stark colors. The order of it soothes me. I hold open the door and stand aside, watching her expression as she takes the space in.

  A small line appears between her strong brows. “What do you have against color, Jafar?”

  “It’s messy.”

  She arches an eyebrow, apparently forgetting that she’s naked in my home. “Messy,” Jasmine repeats. “You think color is messy.” She shakes her hand and moves forward to investigate.

  From tigress to curious kitten. All she needed was something to explore. I file away that information for later and content myself with watching her move through the room. She runs her hand over the comforter, testing its softness, and walks to poke her head into the walk-in closet.

  The bathroom is what gets her. I knew it would. Balthazar might have been an asshole of a father, but he indulged his daughter’s material desires without limit. Whenever she wasn’t in her usual haunts, she could be found down by the fountain in the middle of his hedge maze. The whole thing is rather overdone for my tastes, over a square mile of curving paths and little courtyards, but it fit Jasmine’s fancy. Or maybe she simply needed to pretend she wasn’t walled in and the maze was her way of doing it.

  I’ll ask her eventually.

  Not today, though.

  I wait for her to walk back into the room to speak. “I have business to take care of.”

  She waves that away as if it’s not worth knowing. “You always do.”

  Now’s the time to establish what this relationship will be. “When I get back, I want you naked and kneeling at the front door.”

  She stops short. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Naked and kneeling. That’s an order.”

  “When are you going to be back?”

  I almost smile, but muscle the response down deep. “I’ll be back before dawn.”

  “Before dawn,” she echoes, understanding washing over her expression. “You want me to wait for you. For an unknown amount of time. Na
ked and kneeling.”

  I permit myself a tight smile. “Yes, Jasmine. That’s exactly what I expect.” I turn around and head for the elevators. The thrill of the push and pull with her, the fighting and resisting—It makes me so fucking hard, I can barely see straight. If I had my way, I wouldn’t leave her alone to stew over everything that’s happened tonight, but business has to come before pleasure.

  Even if pleasure with Jasmine is business.

  I step into the elevator and ride it down to the parking garage. Jeremiah, my second in command, meets me there. He looks a little worse for wear, his suit rumpled and his normally perfect dark hair askew. I note the blood spatter on his shirt. “It’s done?”

  Jeremiah nods. “We ran into a few complications, but nothing the boys and I couldn’t handle.”

  “Good.”

  He glances behind me at the elevator. “You got your princess?”

  “Among other things.” I head for the car and he falls into step next to me. “We’re ready for the next part of the process.”

  He makes a face. “Ali slipped the net we cast for him.”

  I pause. “Find him.” I wasn’t exaggerating when I called Ali a monster. He and I might have started in similar places—fighting our way up from nothing—but the few lines I refuse to cross are ones he tramples over with glee. He’s a sadist and a sociopath, his penchant for violence is only surpassed by his pride.

  Taking Jasmine and dismantling his power grab will piss him off, and Ali is most dangerous when he’s furious. The man is a loose cannon and he’ll try to take Jasmine back. To take her from me. She’s a toy ripped away from him before he got it out of the packaging, and it will only add to his rage.

  And if Ali can’t reclaim her?

  He’ll kill her.

  “Find him, Jeremiah. Find him right fucking now.”