C2, PT. 2 (Patreon)

“Princess.”

She flinched. His nickname for her seemed like a cruel joke. The daughter of a whore could never be a princess. He knew that. Had he been mocking her from the start?

“Talk to me,” he murmured.

 No way in hell. Hand more ammunition to the man who had an arsenal of damning information about her family at his disposal? She, more than anyone else, knew how ruthless he was. How cunning. He had her family, business rivals, and countless others under surveillance. Over the years, he kept track of their whereabouts, habits, associates, weaknesses, and secrets. Thankfully, her family had cooperated and entered into an alliance without much fuss. If they hadn’t, Roth would blackmail them into doing what he wished. She wouldn’t give him another weapon to use against her sister. Colette had suffered enough at the hands of powerful men like him.

There was a soft brush of air as he squatted in front of her. “Jasmine.”

When his hand settled on her leg, her entire body recoiled. She flung his hand away as if it were a poisonous snake, tossed her legs to the side, and drew back as far as possible in her seat to put distance between them.

“Don’t touch me!” she said sharply, her voice thick with revulsion.

The week leading up to the Trentham Ball, he let her know he was through with her. He stopped touching her. Looked through her as if she were beneath his notice. He slept in the same bed without acknowledging her presence, as if she were a human-shaped pillow rather than his wife. They played happy newlyweds at the ball because it was expected, but she couldn’t pretend anymore.

He wanted information. That was the only reason he was putting on this act. He knew how starved she was for comfort and affection, and used touch to beguile her into believing he cared. Knowing how many times she’d fallen for it made her sick. She’d been such an easy mark for him. The five years they’d been apart hadn’t made her any wiser, but Warren ripped off the blinders, and she was all too aware how pathetic she was.

Roth went visibly solid for a second when she pulled away, but he didn’t obey her order not to touch her. He shot to his feet, gripped her chin, forcing her head back as he loomed over her.

“Who the fuck touched you?”

His voice trembled with rage. He should have been exhausted. She suspected he’d been up over twenty-four hours, but he showed no sign of it. His relentless energy, which had built a billion dollar empire in little more than a decade, crackled around him. His obsidian eyes were murderous, but she didn’t care.

She tried to wrench her jaw out of his grip, which tightened to bruising force. His head swooped down so he was inches from her.

“Answer me,” he barked and gave her a shake that made the knot on the back of her head start pulsing.

“No one touched me!” She kicked out at him, forcing him back to give her space.

She undid her seatbelt and walked into the brightly lit galley. When she boarded the jet, she claimed the first seat she came across, which she suspected was actually meant for the flight attendants. It was just two forward facing seats separated from the rest of the cabin beside a bathroom. She didn’t remember take off. Her mind and body shut down from the emotional overload. Now, she was awake again. She didn’t want to be. Didn’t want to think, feel, or be locked in an enclosed space with Roth.

“Mrs. Roth, could we get you anything?”

She glanced at two smiling but scared-looking female flight attendants.

“Ginger ale and aspirin?” she requested.

Relieved, one of the women disappeared into an alcove while the other twisted her hands together and focused on something behind Jasmine.

“A-and you, Mr. Roth? Is there anything—?”

“No.”

His curt tone made the woman flinch. She gave a slight bow as she backed away, clearly wishing she was invisible. The other woman rushed back with a glass clinking with ice and set a plate on the counter of the galley that held two white pills and a dainty purple orchid.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said hoarsely as she took a large gulp of ginger ale and reached for the pills.

“If we can be of further assistance…” the woman said as she retreated.

“We’ll let you know if you’re needed,” Roth said in a clipped tone that made the woman pale.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said again, but she wasn’t sure the woman heard as she dashed away to hide in the alcove with her co-worker. “Don’t be an ass,” she said quietly as she closed her eyes and braced her hand on the gleaming countertop as she felt the pills slide down her throat.

“I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

She picked up the orchid, wondering if it was an indicator of their destination. “Where are we going?”

A pause and then, “Colorado.”

Surprise made her turn her head to look at him. “Near your mom?”

His lip began to curl before he controlled the movement and said a flat, “No.”

She made the mistake of meeting his eyes before she faced forward again. She took another sip of the ginger ale, hoping it would settle her jittery stomach.

“You have to talk to me.”

She stared at the bubbles in her glass as she said, “No, I don’t.”

She felt movement behind her and tensed, but thankfully he didn’t touch her.

“You said no one touched you.”

“No one did,” she said tightly.

“So, why won’t you let me touch you?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

The air in the galley thickened, but she didn’t try to soften her words or expand. She didn’t owe him any explanations and if he didn’t like it, he could walk away. She was teetering on the edge and if he pushed it, she was going to go apeshit crazy on his brand-new jet… and possibly, him as well. She wasn’t feeling rational. In fact, she was as stable as Jell-O. She felt borderline unhinged. She was clinging to control, but if he fucking pushed her, she was going to smash every crystal glass in the open cabinet several inches above her head. She would do everything possible to make her surroundings look as damaged and broken as she felt. Months of stress and mind games had finally caught up to her, and she was fucking done.

“What did Warren say to you in the library?”

“Remember this past week when you forgot I existed?” she said in a flat voice. “Let’s go back to that.”

Two massive hands materialized on the counter on either side of her. He was so close, his breath ruffled her hair, but he didn’t break their unspoken pact and touch her. Still, her control wavered.

“Stop blocking me out,” he growled.

“I’ve learned from the master,” she retorted.

“Was it Warren or someone else who made you sick?”

Her hand balled into a fist as she tried to block out the sound of Warren’s insidious voice. You’re the mistake he couldn’t get rid of. Maximus always said you were the worst thing that ever happened to him.

“Jasmine.”

Like the excellent tactician he was, he switched gears. This time, his voice was so gentle, her eyes filled with tears. To combat her automatic, weak response, she bit out, “Back off!”

Her hair shifted again as he brushed his face in it. “Whatever you’re carrying, give it to me. Let me take your pain. I’ll fix it.”

**This is a raw draft of Bitter Sins. Please do not share or distribute.

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