Chapter 23
JASMINE MILLER
My eyes flew open like I’d just been yanked out of a dream. My heart raced, and my head pounded like I’d gone too hard the night before. Everything felt off—hazy, disjointed, like I couldn’t wake up fully. Attempting to piece things together only made the throbbing worse.
Groaning, I reached out toward the nightstand for my phone, but my fingers grazed nothing but sheets. I frowned as I blinked into the dim room. Thin slivers of sunlight slipped through the curtains, casting faint lines of light across the room.
Cash didn’t have blackout curtains.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to push past the ache in my skull. Bits and pieces of last night filtered in—leaving work with Monica, calling Cash, and then… Marcus.
My stomach twisted as the coldness in his face flashed in my mind.
I rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the windows. Sunlight poured in when I yanked the curtains open, making me cover my eyes to block the glare.
My jaw dropped once my vision adjusted.
Central Park was sprawled out twenty stories down.
New York? This nigga brought me back to New York?
I clutched my stomach as I turned to take in the room. One wall was all windows, overlooking the city, and a king-sized bed sat against a charcoal-gray wall. Everything looked cold and expensive, like a showroom.
At the foot of the bed were a few suitcases. I looked down and realized that I wasn’t in my scrubs. Someone had changed me into one of my own pajamas.
A chill ran down my spine.
Marcus had been in my apartment and gone through my things while I wasn’t there. Undressed me. How long had he been planning this?
My bladder tugged at my attention, and I made my way toward an open bathroom door. My chest tightened. My toiletries neatly laid out on the counter—all my skincare, my bonnet, my fucking toothbrush, all there like I was here for an extended stay.
I sat on the toilet and stared at my hands shaking in my lap. I flexed my fingers as I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to settle my nerves.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…” I whispered to myself.
After using the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face, and downed a few aspirin I found under the sink. This whole thing felt surreal—like I was moving through a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
Back in the bedroom, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling as I sank onto the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands.
I should’ve taken Cash’s warnings seriously—should’ve told him about the videos. But no, I stupidly held out hope that Marcus had some redeeming factor.
A soft knock at the door made me sit up.
“Amber?!” I blurted, staring at my best friend as she walked in holding two steaming mugs of coffee.
“Surprise,” she said, offering me one with a weak smile.
“What are you doing here? Did you help this nigga kidnap me? And where the hell are we?” I fired off questions as I took the coffee from her.
“Ay Dios,” Amber muttered, setting her mug on the nightstand. “Jas, you deadass? You think I’d help that man snatch you?”
“I don’t know! Up until twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t think he was even capable of doing this!”
She sat on the bed beside me, nudging at the coffee in my hands. I took a small sip while she spoke.
“He called Donny when he got here with you last night. Donny called me. We’re at his penthouse. Marcus’s been super erratic since he got back, so I convinced him to let me stay here with you. I told him you’d rather see my face first than his.”
“Facts,” I grumbled, taking another sip. “Do you have your phone? I don’t know Cash’s number by heart, but maybe I could DM Monica or something.”
Amber shook her head. “His driver made me hand it over before I came upstairs.”
“Fuck.” Tears welled up again, my throat tightening as my frustration boiled over. This was too much.
Amber pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back. “Hey, hey, listen. He didn’t touch you—other than carrying you up here. I changed you and stayed with you last night. I just went down to make coffee, that’s why I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
Her words helped a little. But they didn’t change the fact that Marcus had still violated me.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“For what?”
“For coming. For staying with me.” I shook my head. “I don’t even know what to think. Is he even here?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Amber and I both looked up to see Marcus standing in the doorway.
“Bitch ass nigga!” I yelled, shoving my mug into Amber's hands and launching off the bed. Rage shot through me as I slapped him across the face with everything I had.
“You kidnapped me! Are you out of your fucking mind!”
Amber threw her arms around my waist and pulled me back before I could swing again.
Marcus barely flinched. He rubbed his cheek slowly, looking at me like I was a toddler throwing a tantrum. “You’re not a prisoner, Jas.”
“Word? Then give me my phone,” I demanded. “Let me go home if I’m so ‘free’.”
I tried lunging at him again, but Amber locked her arms around me tighter, dragging me back toward the bed.
“You are home,” Marcus said, stepping further into the room.
I stared at him in disbelief. “Do you hear yourself? You sound insane! Give me my shit, Marcus.”
His mouth twisted into a smirk. “So you can call your little boyfriend?” he scoffed. “Yeah, not happening, mama.”
My hands balled into fists, nails digging into my palms. Every word out of his mouth made me want to spit in his face.
“Your man went and blew up a huge shipment last night,” he continued bitterly. “Probably after he figured out I had you. But I ain’t even trippin’ off that.”
I glared at him; my nerves were shot, and I was hanging on by a thread. “The fuck does y’all beef have to do with me?”
“Everything,” he said, eyes darkening. “Money has a monopoly in Atlanta. Niggas too pussy to check him—why should one man have all that power?”
He scoffed. “That’s why I brought you here. To get you away from all that while I get my shit established down there. Plus, New York’s home. It’s where you belong. With me.”
He started pacing and motioned around the room. “Don’t you see how far I’ve come? I did all of this for you. You just need to be away from that nigga to see it.”
I shot Amber a look, and by the way her face was twisted up, I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought he’d lost it.
“We broke up ten years ago!” I snapped. “We can’t just pick up where we left off. I don’t even know you anymore.”
Marcus tilted his head like I was being unreasonable. “I guess this is a lot to take in, but you’ll see. It was always supposed to be me and you. I’m done waiting. You’re my woman. My wife.”
“I’m not your fucking wife!” I shouted as I jumped up from the bed. My blood was boiling now.
“And those videos you took of us without my consent?” I stepped in closer and mushed his forehead hard. “How could you do that? You’re disgusting.”
Marcus’s mouth twitched, and in an instant, his hand was around my throat, slamming me against the wall so hard my teeth rattled. I gasped and clawed at his wrist, but he only tightened his grip, cutting off air.
“Marcus!” Amber screamed, pounding on his back, and tried to tear him off me.
Finally, he let go and dropped me like nothing happened.
I crumpled to the floor, coughing and blinking through spots in my vision. My throat and lungs burned as I sucked in mouthfuls of air.
“I let that shit slide when you smacked me ‘cause you’re upset,” he said as he shoved his hands into the front of his hoodie. “But don’t ever put your hands on me again.”
He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him like he was the one who just got choked out.
I dragged myself to my feet, rubbing my neck with shaky hands. My whole body was buzzing with pain and rage and fear that I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Jas—” Amber said as she bent to help me.
“I’m fine,” I croaked, brushing past her and collapsing onto the bed. I didn’t have any tears left—just a hollow ache growing in my chest.
“Jas, give me Monica’s IG,” she whispered. “As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll send her a message.”
“You’re gonna leave me?”
“There’s no way to use my phone here,” she held my gaze. “Trust me. I know he’s on one right now, but I don’t think he’ll touch you again.”
I nodded and told her Monica’s handle. “You better come back. I swear I’m liable to kill him if he comes back in here talking that crazy shit again.”
Amber laughed and hugged me. “I got you,” she promised, holding up her pinky.
“Always,” I finished, hooking mine around hers.
She slipped out, and the silence of her absence weighed on me. I scanned the room, and my eyes landed on a flat screen mounted to the wall. I grabbed the remote off the dress and turned it on, needing some kind of distraction. I could still feel the ghost of Marcus’s hand around my neck.
News 12 prattling on in the background didn’t help.
I flopped back on the bed, wincing at the soreness in my neck. I stared at the ceiling as Marcus’s words looped through my mind.
“It was always supposed to be me and you.”
And by the crazed look in his eyes, I knew that he meant that, and that was the part that shook me.
Ten years locked up had clearly broken something in him. He’d created a twisted fantasy in his head. He truly believed that I belonged here. His delusion was scary—not because he was angry, but because in his mind, this made sense.
I drew in a shaky breath. I couldn’t afford to panic. I had to keep my shit together. Amber said she’d be back. I just had to hold out until then.
And in the meantime, all I could do was pray that Cash found me sooner than later because I wasn’t sure what Marcus would do if he went too far off the deep end.