Chapter Three
Yasmin woke up on an incredibly soft but unfamiliar bed. She opened her eyes to slits, eying the sunlight peering from the partially closed curtains. Like the curtains, the bedsheets she lay on were black. She fingered the fabric, which felt silky to the touch. Certainly nothing she could afford.
She rubbed at her eyes, glad to be woken up from her nightmare. Then she noticed she wasn’t alone. Yasmin sat up, swallowing as she looked down. No clothes. She always slept in one of her comfy big tees, never naked. Yasmin silently checked herself. No aches or pains. What just happened?
“You’re finally awake,” said the same voice that had haunted her nightmare.
A quick look around the space told her this wasn’t her bedroom. Clean lines. Almost spartan furniture. The curtains and bedsheets contrasted with the white walls and marble flooring. A collection of guns lined one side of the wall, next to the giant TV. More decorated the wall next to the big desk with the laptop. Black and white, unlike the room’s owner, who only saw shades of gray.
Yasmin finally found the courage to look at the man sitting on the armchair facing the bed. Her father, heck, most of the people in the city, painted the kingpin as a monster. Carver had positioned the chair far from the window, seemingly choosing to remain cloaked in the shadows, but Yasmin could make out his huge outline just fine.
“You’re real,” she whispered, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her body.
Yasmin tugged the comforter higher. That only made him chuckle. She furiously blushed, recalling the words she’d hurled at him out of desperation. I’m yours. Horror flooded her, and excitement. That last emotion made her wary. Aside from that one meeting years ago, Carver was a complete stranger. He was also a name parents whispered to keep their children in bed at nights.
“Very real,” he agreed. “Did you wish it was all a dream, angel? Did you forget that offered yourself in exchange for that bastard?”
“No, I didn’t forget.”
She raised her chin. If he thought he could intimidate her, he’d soon find out she was no pushover. Yet, hadn’t she entertained the notion of submitting to him in bed? God. Everything was so confusing. Any normal person would be begging for their lives by now or finding the nearest exit routes. Maybe she was really born with a kind of wrongness.
“How long have you been watching me?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else.
“Long enough.” He rose to his feet, and she shrank back against the headboard, heart thumping. Carver looked so much bigger than she thought. Yasmin wasn’t a small woman, yet she looked tiny compared to him. He sat on the edge of the bed, not touching her. No suit this time, but Carver looked good in a pair of worn in jeans and a plain black shirt. “Are you afraid of me?”
“Who wouldn’t be in my position?” she fired back.
“I don’t like people who go back on their deals.”
“I believe you,” she said in a whisper.
“There’s no reason to fear me, especially if you keep your word, Yas. Tell me, are you regretting your decision now?”
“I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad?”
“Back home, but you? You’ll be staying with me. One of my men accompanied your father and will be bringing all your belongings here.”
“You can’t just make decisions like that,” she blurted unthinkingly.
Carver laughed. “It’s been a long time since anyone said what I can and cannot do.”
Recalling how Carver nearly choked her father to death for suggesting Carver take her to pay all his debts off, she bit her lower lip.
“Never forget. You sold yourself to me to save a useless piece of trash.”
“Are you going to remind me of that little fact every single time we’re together?”
Carver inched closer, switched from the edge of the bed to the empty space next to her. He reached out, and she didn’t draw back as he cupped her burning cheek.
“No, but I’m going to prove to you that was the best decision you ever made in your entire life.”
She turned her head away, and he stopped touching her. Yasmin tensed, thinking he’d instantly roll on top of her and force her, except Carver didn’t do any of those things. “Coming back to this city was the worst choice I ever made. If I didn’t come back to help my dad, none of this would have happened.”
“Don’t say that, angel.” Carver regarded her for a long time, but she didn’t miss the way he eyed her body under the sheets.
Yasmin’s nipples tightened to points, her pussy grew wet, and she was so glad for the comforter. She didn’t know why it made her entire body flush. When Anatoli and his guys looked at her, she felt nothing but revulsion and fear. Somehow, when Carver looked at her, she felt warm all over. She clutched at the fabric, wondering what in hell’s name this man was doing to her.
Yasmin never reacted like this to the other men she dated, those who only saw tits and hips. To them, she was only good enough for a quick fuck but not good enough to be seen in public, but Carver looked at her like some kind of grand prize, a treasure he didn’t want to let go of. Damn. She must really have a loose screw somewhere.
“Tell me. Is it so fucking unbearable, being in the same room with me?”
“What?” Yasmin didn’t get him at all. After seeing him in action at the club, she assumed he had a temper and lacked patience, yet here they were, having a conversation.
“Are you happy with your current life? Do you want me to let you go?”
His questions caught her off-guard. She giggled, unable to help himself. Carver narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything until she recovered.
“God, this must be some kind of sick game to you. You tell me I belong to you one moment and the next, you’re asking me if I want freedom?”
She shook her head. Did he think she was foolish enough to piss off the most powerful man in the city? Where would she even go? Yasmin had no one she could rely on but herself. Running now would backfire on her. Carver probably had top-notch security. Wherever she’d go, he’d find her. The kingpin had deep pockets and connections with the local police and politicians.
If she had to be honest, it felt a little lonely, isolating even, living one day after another, trying to make enough to pay the bills, only for her father to screw up one way or another.
Besides, instinct told her Carver wasn’t like Anatoli or the others. Oh, Yasmin would never forget he wasn’t a good man, but he hadn’t taken advantage of her in her sleep, didn’t take what he clearly wanted—and those hungry blue eyes told her he wanted her. She suppressed a shudder and looked the kingpin in the eye.
“I’m a man of my word, and I can adapt to setbacks. Doesn’t matter if I set you free now, you’d eventually end up crawling back to me. This story has one ending, princess, with me owning all of you.”
Carver said that with such certainty, it left her stunned for a few seconds. Her heart starting racing again. She gripped the sheets, well-aware nothing could stop him from ripping the sheets from her body, exposing her to his gaze. Yasmin knew those big hands would feel good against her soft skin, and that mouth—men like Carver didn’t kiss. He’d plunder and take.
The dark and wild side of her wanted him to discard the mask of a gentleman and expose the beast underneath.
Her breathing turned shallow. Being around him made her entire body hot, aroused, making it hard to think or make logical decisions. Not good signs but she’d willingly signed a contract with the devil by giving herself to him.
“I’m not my father. I don’t go back on my word either,” she managed to whisper.
Pride made her say those words, but Carver also intrigued her on so many levels. She’d agreed to stay to save her father initially, but it felt different now. She also wanted to know which direction this was heading.
Would she regret refusing his offer? What did he have in store for her? Her mind worked furiously. Yesterday, he’d gone out of his way to interrupt Anatoli, which meant after all these years, he hadn’t forgotten her. It was silly, but the thought warmed her heart. In the words of one of her exes, Yasmin was forgettable, didn’t stand out. What did Carver see in her?
“Good, but you haven’t answered my other question,” he told her.
What did he ask? Whether she was happy? Another confusing question. “Who’s really happy these days?”
He flashed her that enigmatic smile that might say nothing or everything. Yasmin was way out of her league with this man. Hell, maybe Carver hadn’t lied about releasing her, but she had a feeling he’d never make that offer again.
“When was the last time you smiled, you found true joy in something?” he asked.
“What are you, my therapist?” she demanded, sounding defensive. Yasmin sucked in a breath, aware it wasn’t wise, provoking him, but he didn’t look pissed.
“It’s a simple question, angel.”
“I—I can’t remember. For as long as I remember, I’ve struggled making ends meet, with my love life and my dad.” Why did she tell him that? They were complete strangers, but it was easy talking to him. He kept his full attention on her the entire time. He listened and didn’t make a move as his phone began to ring.
“Then, I plan to change that. If you have no intentions of leaving, the shower’s that way. You’ll have to make do with borrowing some of my clothes. I expect you to join me for breakfast.” Carver stood up. His phone buzzed again.
She stared at him, wondering if he realized how absurd he sounded. Did Carver really think they’d have some kind of civilized breakfast after everything that happened? His words sounded like a command as well, as if he didn’t expect her to refuse.
“Fine,” she answered curtly.
Yasmin stared at his broad back as he turned away from her and began walking towards the door, phone to his ear.
Once he shut the door behind her, Yasmin collapsed back against the pillows.
What had she just done?