Chapter 9
Jasmina
MY APARTMENT WAS MY sanctuary and the only place I felt comfortable healing, but my family insisted on round-the-clock security.
The only people allowed in were our team of guards. My uncle told me he’d find out who did this, but we’d have to do it quietly.
We couldn’t sacrifice the contract.
I knew that was the truth, I’d said it myself.
Still, the thought that seeking vengeance came secondary to marrying me off tasted sour in my mouth. And when he delivered the contract a few days later for me to sign, I could barely read it.
I sat staring at the pages and pages of legal jargon, knowing I would have to sign either way. So I didn’t bother.
I saw what I needed:
Two years of marriage
A percentage of Fuerte Firearms Corp
Attending shareholder meetings
Attempting to have a child for a trust
I shook my head and signed on the dotted line without looking it over.
Instead, I wanted to enjoy my last moments alone as I sat in my small, sun-drenched space, where the air was always flooded with the scent of way too many candles because they reminded me of my mother.
My uncle came to take the papers away a few days later, and I tried to rest more without thinking about it.
Instead, I relished being in my safe haven for the time being.
In the corner, a basket overflowed with half-finished crochet projects.
My latest one was an intricate blanket in shades of seafoam and cream that were too soft for a woman about to marry a Diamond.
My computer keyboard glowed a steady, electric blue, the only light in the room as I worked late into the night.
Romeo, a massive, fluffy ginger cat who didn’t give a damn about family hierarchies, purred against my side. He’d spent the week curled around my ribs, a warm, vibrating weight that comforted me even though my future was grim.
“I did the right thing not telling them, right, Romeo?” I whispered, rolling the SD card between my thumb and forefinger.
The card was locked. I knew that now. And I wasn’t sure where to go to get into the files if I didn’t have the password.
Still, I wasn’t ready to hand it over to my aunt and uncle.
Not yet. I had passed out for days with that card clutched in my palm like a dumb talisman, waking only when Tía Perla arrived with containers of caldo de pollo.
“He said another week would be fine,” Perla told me every time she visited, and today marked a week and a half passing. She set a bowl on my small kitchen table. She looked around my space and sighed. “You should be staying with us.”
To her, this place was a shack; to me, it was the only place I’d ever been just Jasmina.
I’d made this place my home when no place ever felt like mine since my parents died.
I’d moved here right when I turned eighteen because I didn’t want to burden my aunt and uncle and knew Paolo would pay me enough. I’d earned every decoration here.
“I’m healing just fine here, Tía,” I muttered, my hand instinctively ghosting over my abdomen.
My split lip was a thin pink line now, and the bruising on my cheek had faded to a yellow I covered up.
Thankfully they hadn’t hit my face too hard and those bruises could be hidden, but the stitches still felt like hot wires under my skin. That healing was much too slow.
The sudden, sharp chime of the doorbell made my heart jolt against my ribs. Romeo hissed and vanished under the bed. “Tía, who is that?”
Perla moved the delicate lace blinds. They were another one of my personalized touches that I loved to peek down at the driveway through. She tsked, a sound of pure venom. “He lied. He’s a dirty, good-for-nothing liar.”
“Who?” I asked, though my gut already knew.
“Your future husband is here.” Perla turned back to me, her face pale. She looked around my room. For a moment, there was real remorse in her eyes. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” I stood up, the movement pulling at the stitches in my womb, but I didn’t let my face change.
“I hate this,” she whispered, tears finally welling in her eyes.
“You never should have agreed to it. He’s an evil man, Jasmina.
And you … you’re not a nice woman either.
Please try not to kill each other.” She gripped my shoulders, her voice dropping to a terrified hiss.
“And don’t give him a child … Just don’t let him see for two years, huh? ”
The doctor’s words flashed through my mind.
“Tía, I won’t let him have his way with me. I just need more time to heal.”
“I know! Look at you!” She began fussing over my face, her fingers hovering near the faint fingerprints still bruising my throat. “I’ll try to deter him, okay?” She muttered a few names under her breath. She hated that man about as much as I did. “He thinks we’re going to run. As if we would.”
“Well, we should have,” I said tiredly. I was like a broken record at this point.
“Bah, running isn’t living. Not when you’re always looking over your shoulder.
We face the problems head-on, mi vida, or they come for us behind our backs.
” She wagged a bony finger at me. “If they don’t, the worry will, and it will steal the happiness from all things.
I wish you would have just let Maribel marry him.
Let her live there and bother him at his estate in Paradise Grove. She’s made for that type of—”
“No. She wouldn’t survive.”
The doorbell rang again, and she hurried toward the stairs to go answer it. “Better her than you. She’d find a way to please him. You never will! You’re going to die fighting him.”
Her eyes were filled with so much sadness that I considered lying to her. But she knew me as well as I knew myself. “Tía, so be it. The best will live then, huh?”
She sighed and left me to pack up the suitcase and change. Looking around the room, there wasn’t much to pack. I stared at the ball of fur in the corner of my room.
Romeo was overweight and eyeing me with contempt from the racket I was making throwing clothes in. “You’d probably rather stay here with Aunt Perla than go to Paradise Grove, right? I’ll die there, you know, and I doubt they’ll treat you nice once I’m gone.”
The cat languidly stretched before prancing over and plopping his body across my suitcase like he wanted to be packed with it.
I smiled at that. It was definitely a sign.
If I was going to give into Cal’s timeline, he could give into the start of my demands.
I pet Romeo before removing him gently and zipping up my suitcase. Then, I got the cat carrier from my closet, wincing as I reached for it. My ribs were definitely bruised, probably freaking broken.
“This is going to be a long, tortuous stay, Romeo. You’ve been warned.” I unzipped the cat carrier, and he trotted right in.
He was the only male in the world that warmed my heart at this point.
I pulled on a sweat suit and glanced at myself in the mirror. I used a bit more coverup on my cheek and was pretty happy with the result. I looked normal. Not bruised and broken and like I was about to give my hand in marriage to a man I didn’t love.
My aunt came stomping back up the stairs right then.
I went to grab my suitcase handle and she smacked a hand away.
“Let him get it.” She glanced at the other suitcases.
I’d packed most of my clothes, figuring I’d need them for all of two years.
“You’re about to be married. He has men down there that can do this.
Let a man care for you in that way, at least.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Then, I grabbed one suitcase handle and proceeded to roll it down the hall in front of him while carrying Romeo, who meowed loudly.
And, of course, Callahan didn’t offer to help anyway.
He stood there, leaning against the doorframe with an arrogance that made my vision blur with heat and rage all at the same time.
He wasn’t in a suit today. He wore a light sweater that hugged his shoulders and jeans that looked like they cost more than my car.
And he seemed entirely too comfortable in my doorway.
I’d dressed even more casual than him in a light blue sweat suit. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Instead, I wore baggy clothes to cover as much of my body as possible. I didn’t need him seeing any bruises I may have forgotten to cover.
“You’re early,” I said, my voice steady despite the throb in my side.
His eyes sparkled like he thought all of this was some big joke, like he was ready for the fun that torturing me would be.
“I got bored,” he said, shrugging. He looked past me into my apartment. A small, dark smirk touched his lips. “Nice place, Viper. Anything my men can get?”
Screw it. They could take the suitcase. I pointed to it, “And there’s more luggage in my room. Along with a bin of yarn too.”
“Yarn?” He lifted a brow but signaled to two of his syndicate men that flanked him. They moved at once, leaving the other two by his side.
“I crochet.” I lifted my chin. “Also, why do you feel the need to come early without letting us know? We had an agreement.”
“The initial agreement was for a week. Asking for another week on top of that is a bit presumptuous when I’m already doing you the favor,” he said, stepping into my space, forcing me to take a half step back. The pain in my stomach flared, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from flinching.
“Oh, please,” I snapped, rolling my eyes.
He narrowed his at me like he was trying to assess when and where my attitude had changed. It was the moment I saw his stupid name signed on that contract too. I didn’t have to be docile or submit to shit anymore.
Our plans were now inked in writing. And I was pissed he’d gone back on his word already.
“You could have waited like I asked.”
“I don’t like waiting for things that belong to me, and that now includes you. So, say goodbye to your family because time’s up.”
Perla stepped forward, her hands fisted at her side. “She has been unwell, Mr. Knight. I told you she was sick. She needs her rest.”