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‘You don’t know me and you don’t know my mother, so don’t presume to judge us. Besides, what makes you think she believes I’m perfect?’
‘She must do. She seemed to eat up all the lies you fed her without question.’
Jasmine was tempted to tell Reyes of her mother’s one fatal flaw—she refused to see the bad in anyone. Her blindly trusting nature had seen her duped out of her money over and over by ruthless men. It was that nature that had landed them where Jasmine had been forced down a path of near permanent ruin.
It was a place Jasmine didn’t like to remind her mother of, or ever revisit herself, if she could help it.
‘It’s easier for my mother to take things at face value.’ Her words emerged with much more bitter introspection than she’d intended. Aware of just how much she’d let slip, Jasmine clamped her jaw shut and tried not to even breathe. But it was too late.
Reyes’s head cocked to the side in the now oh-so-familiar way. ‘Interesting. She knows and she accepts you just the way you are?’ The way he said it, almost wistfully, drew her gaze to him.
He was staring at her and yet she got the feeling his mind was somewhere else altogether. Somewhere he didn’t want to relive, but couldn’t seem to help.
She picked up her fork and speared an olive. A quick whiff of it had her setting it down again. She tried a piece of ham and chewed that instead. After swallowing, she answered, ‘Yes, she does. She likes to think that people change. So do I, incidentally.’
As if snapping out of whatever place he’d been, he sharpened his gaze. ‘No, they don’t. They like to pretend they do. Some do their best to present a different face to the world, but people inherently remain the same underneath.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘Why, because you’ve changed? You’ve somehow seen some mystic light and repented all your sins?’
She swallowed. ‘Yes.’
‘We both know that’s not true, don’t we, Jasmine? Otherwise you wouldn’t have stolen from me.’
‘I had no choice.’
His jaw tightened. ‘You had a choice. You made the wrong one.’
After a moment, she nodded. ‘Yes, maybe you’re right.’
Her answer silenced him for several moments, his speculative gaze on her face. ‘And how many times have you made the wrong choice in the past?’
‘My past is none of your business.’ And not a place she chose to willingly visit. The stigma of being judged was one she’d learned from when her college boyfriend had treated her like a pariah when she’d confessed her past. ‘I’m more concerned about the future. If you’re going to hand me over to the authorities, I’d prefer it to be sooner rather than later.’
His face slowly hardened into the mask she detested, but had unfortunately become very familiar with. ‘Don’t push me, Jasmine. If you didn’t steal from me for yourself, tell me who you did it for.’
Her heart lurched. ‘I can’t. Punish me, if you need to, but leave anyone else out of it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the person I did it for is important to me.’
‘How important?’ he flung back.
‘He...saved me. He didn’t have to, but he did. I’m sorry, Re—Your Highness, but I won’t let him pay for my mistakes.’
‘So this person saved you, but decided it was okay to set you back on a destructive path to suit his purposes?
‘No, it wasn’t like that.’
His hand slammed down. ‘That was exactly what it was, Jasmine. To trap me so you could steal from me. From my people. To throw years of hard work into utter chaos and endanger the livelihood of millions, all for the sake of one person.’
‘Yes, I know it seems irrational but that’s what happened. Believe me, I’ll do anything to make things right.’
He relaxed in his seat with the grace of a born predator, his long, rangy frame seeming to go on for ever. His smile held no mirth, only cynicism. ‘How bravely you embrace your sins. It’s almost admirable.’
She set her fork down. ‘Stop toying with me and just get this over and done with.’
His smile widened, his teeth stark against the darkness of his beard. For some reason, the sight made her belly flip over. Whether it was from fear or another emotion, Jasmine didn’t want to examine too closely.
‘You’re not in a position to dictate terms to me, Miss Nichols. Remember, you’re my prisoner. I will choose the time of your trial. And the terms of your punishment. Push me and you’ll like the consequences of either even less.’
