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Her fingers curled around the edge of the table at the thought of the task she’d been set. She wanted to refuse; wanted to tell him she’d rather rot in jail than help him find the next woman to warm his bed.
But how could she go back on her word to do whatever was needed to right her wrong?
One of his bodyguards approached. He wasn’t the one who’d accosted her in the gardens this morning. In fact, from being a constant shadow, that other guard seemed to have disappeared.
This guard nodded at whatever Reyes was saying to him.
‘Wait!’
Reyes lifted a bored brow at her.
‘It’s still early.’ At his continued indolent look, she pursed her lips. ‘Fine, I’ll talk. My stepfather is perfect in every sense, except when it comes to his gambling.’
She looked from Reyes to the bodyguard. After several heartbeats, Reyes dismissed the guard with a sharp nod. Walking past where she remained perched, he grabbed the half-finished bottle of wine, frowned at her untouched glass and refilled his own. He sat down, crossing his legs, so his thighs were dangerously close to her knee.
Jasmine pulled stronger on her runaway composure. ‘He’s a kind, gentle man and he cares deeply for my mother.’
A look passed through his eyes, but was gone before she could work out what it meant.
‘Where does your biological father fit into this scenario?’
His voice lacked mockery, a fact for which she was thankful. ‘He left when I was barely out of nappies. And he was the first in a long line of “fathers”,’ she quoted, ‘who came and went before I was a teenager.’
Reyes sipped his wine. Said nothing.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she ventured when the silence stretched.
His eyes gleamed. ‘I sincerely doubt that.’
She shrugged. ‘Well, whether you’re thinking it or not, my past shaped me. I was angry with the world and with a mother who couldn’t see how hopeless the men she dated were. By the time my stepfather came along, I was...in a bad way.’
‘How bad?’
Jasmine didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to see the contempt in his eyes, or relive the bleakest point in her life. She’d been there, done that, and wore the shame underneath her skin and physical scars on her body.
She didn’t want to go there, but Reyes’s steady gaze demanded an answer.
‘A spell in juvenile detention when I was sixteen,’ she found herself confessing.
He froze. ‘Dios...’ he murmured.
Thick mortification crept over her. Struggling to cover it, she laughed. ‘Now you know my deepest, darkest secret. I’m guessing you’ll be holding this over my head, too—’
‘Stop talking, Jasmine.’
She clamped her mouth shut. He watched her with a curious expression, his gaze intensely assessing.
‘How long were you in detention?’
Strangely she couldn’t read any judgement in his tone. She reminded herself that as a prince he was skilled in hiding his true emotion. But then, he hadn’t held back so far—
‘Answer me,’ he bit out roughly.
‘Nine months.’
‘What for?’
She grimaced. ‘I accidentally set fire to a drug dealer’s warehouse.’
‘Is that experience why you found the handcuffs distressing?’
‘You mean there are people who love being handcuffed?’ she threw back.
One brow spiked.
Heat stained her cheeks. ‘Yes, well, I didn’t like it at the time. Still don’t. Those days were the most traumatic of my life. Please don’t force me to relive them.’
He put his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His intensity increased a thousandfold. As did the intoxicating scent of his aftershave and warm skin. Jasmine clenched her thighs to keep from moving closer.
‘What happened after you were released?’
‘My stepfather. And yes, it may sound like a fairy tale, but he saved us. And even with his flaws, he turned out to be better than any man out there, even the man whose blood runs through my veins.’
Grey eyes snagged hers. Still no condemnation in them, just a stark curiosity.
‘But the gambling became a problem, obviously,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘He was married before, but his wife died. That’s when the problem escalated for him. He stopped for a while when he and my mother were dating, but after they married he started again. No matter how much we tried, we couldn’t convince him to give it up. It made me sad. I know it worried him, too, that he couldn’t beat it. But I couldn’t condemn him. No matter what, he was the best father I knew. When Joaquin sank his claws into him, I had no choice. I couldn’t let Stephen suffer.’
