Page 2 of Dark Witch: Entangled Fates

Lina translated, "She said that bad luck is nonsense."

"It's not," Jasmine murmured under her breath.

It was no use trying to convince the stubborn Russian that bad luck was very real. She would find out soon enough.

Jasmine munched on the last of her winnings, walked over to one of the plush couches in the corner, sat down, and stretched out her long legs.

With the kitchen staff leaving to start working on tonight's wedding dinner, the lounge was emptying, and the place that was usually bustling with activity and lively chatter was turning depressingly quiet.

Ever since Jasmine was brought on board, she'd been observing the same exodus happening every afternoon, but usually some of the staff remained because not everyone worked all three shifts.

Today, though, she'd heard rumors that someone very important was getting married, but no one would tell her who they were or even why they were important.

Well, since Lina and Marina were the only ones who spoke English, they were the only two she'd asked, and both had refused to answer, saying that it was classified information.

Whatever.

It didn't matter who was getting married. What bothered Jasmine was that with the staff gone, she was about to be the only one left in the lounge. The rescued women who occupied some of the cabins on this level only left their rooms to eat in the crew's dining room and never visited the lounge, but even if some of them decided to brave it, they only spoke Spanish, and she didn't.

The truth was that Jasmine hated being alone, and she hated being stuck in places with no windows, but the staff quarters and facilities were all below the water line, and she was not allowed to venture to the upper decks where the Perfect Match Virtual Studios management mingled with the distinguished guests, who were all former users of the service who had found true love in a Perfect Match adventure and were getting married on this super-secretive, exclusive cruise. Not that she knew any of that for a fact, but she had gathered enough tidbits of information to deduce that.

The other thing that Jasmine hated was sleeping alone in her tiny, windowless cabin, but it didn't seem like she would be able to find anyone to share it with for the last three nights of the cruise. The number of male staff members was pitifully small, and they were either too old, too young or in committed relationships.

Jasmine sighed, her fingers drumming an idle rhythm on her thigh. If only she could venture to the upper deck and mingle with the guests, she could perhaps find the handsome helicopter pilot whom she'd flirted with during the boat ride from Modana's yacht to the ship.

Edgar had been enchanted with her, and he seemed like a nice guy. The two guards who had collected her and the others were not bad looking either. In fact, she wouldn't have minded a tumble with any of them, but none had come down to see her, not even to say 'Hi, how are ya?'

Had she lost her touch?

Maybe they had been told to stay away from her?

It was ridiculous how tight-lipped everyone was about the whole Perfect Match thing. So what if the couples had met through the company's exclusive dating service?

If anything, it would make a fantastic PR opportunity.

Jasmine would love to become part of that PR effort, perhaps as the spokesperson in their commercials, or a character in one of their adventures. After all, they based their avatars on real people, or at least that was what she'd been led to believe.

Some sneered at the service and its users, but not her. It would be nice to have the computer find her the perfect guy. After the disastrous results of consulting her tarot cards on matters of the heart, Jasmine was much more inclined to trust artificial intelligence to find the perfect man for her.

The damn tarot had promised her a prince, and she'd foolishly believed they had meant Alberto, only for her so-called prince to turn into an ugly, wart-covered toad.

Jasmine's stomach churned at the memory of how easily she'd been fooled by the handsome, charismatic guy pretending to be an honest, well-to-do businessman. Alberto had swept her off her feet with lavish dinners, extravagant bouquets of flowers, and charming smiles. She'd been so sure that he was the prince the tarot cards had foretold, but instead of a happily-ever-after, she'd found herself snared in a nightmare.

Shaking off the painful recollections, Jasmine sat up and pulled out the worn velvet pouch nestled in her purse. Despite their disappointing guidance as of late, she cherished those tarot cards above all of her other possessions.

They had been her constant companions since she was a young girl, an unintended gift left behind by her mother.

Or intended, as she chose to believe.

Her mother had left the cards hidden inside a secret compartment in her jewelry box, which she must have known would go to Jasmine after her death.

With no one to instruct Jasmine on how to use them, they had initially been just a collection of pretty pictures, a reminder of the mother she'd lost, and a secret treasure hidden from her father. But when Jaz got old enough to be allowed access to the internet, she'd found all the instructions she needed.

Over the years, Jasmine had come to rely on the cards' guidance, finding comfort in their cryptic messages and, more often than not, finding out that they had been right. But sometimes, she had done so to her detriment.

Well, only once.

They had never steered her wrong before leading her to that scumbag Alberto. May his dark soul rot in hell.

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