Page 4 of Bitter Confessions

She loved that Amir had let Naida choose their path. He didn’t care what she decided, as long as they were together. Although Jasmine was initially ecstatic about the ending, Thea had a point. Naida deciding to enter Amir’s world meant a lifelong uphill battle. She might never be accepted. She’d have Amir, but would that be enough, with everyone scheming to break them apart and rooting for her failure? They would have been happier living by the ocean… Then again, Naida had battled pirates: she could take on her haters, even the nasty queen. At least she’d experienced her fair share of adventures before becoming a straitlaced royal.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around herself. If books had taught her anything, it was that everything happened for a reason. The more trials a character experienced, the bigger the payoff. If she applied that to real life, it meant the latter half of her life would be epic. Her mother had died when she was a baby, leaving her to be raised by her Greek housekeeper on a sprawling country estate on the outskirts of her father’s kingdom: Manhattan. She saw her father a handful of times a year, usually during the holidays or the summer, when she was expected to shadow him and her sisters at Hennessy headquarters. Negotiations on some large deals had kept her at Tuxedo Park this summer, giving her the opportunity to catch up on dozens of fantasy books that lit her imagination on fire.

She spun on her heel and headed back to the house. Thea would have to be satisfied with her spending ten minutes in the sun. Now, she needed pen and paper to see if she could create her own Amir: the perfect man. She tried to imagine what her future husband looked like. Black hair and green eyes? Would he be brave and protective like Amir, willing to do whatever it took to have her in his life? That closing scene, of Amir kneeling at the feet of the fisherman’s daughter in front of the whole town, made her heart swell so large she could barely breathe.

She wanted a husband who thought she was beautiful and special and couldn’t live without her. If he had to live the life of a fisherman to be with her, he’d do it. What a gift that would be, to be put first, ahead of a nation.

Jasmine had never been anyone’s priority. When it came to her father, business always came first, Colette and Ariana second. She was an afterthought. She had never stood out; never been exceptional in any way. But surely, there was a man out there who would see something special in her. Something worth seizing, nourishing, and cherishing. She had so much to give. So much pent-up love that had no outlet. If her husband gave her a chance, she would show him she could be everything he needed. And if he didn’t love her as much as Amir loved Naida, she couldn’t imagine why they would marry at all.

CHAPTER 2

Jasmine struggled to surface. Her mind was cloudy, and her body felt as if it had been run over by a truck. She lay on her stomach in bed, arms tucked beneath her, head turned toward a source of bright light. She attempted to open her eyes, but her lashes were stuck together. As she tried to clear the mental cobwebs, she flexed her foot in a small stretch and went rigid when her body telegraphed pain from multiple locations.

What the...?

Crusty lashes parted as she registered the scent on the sheets. The bed smelled of them. Her mind lurched into gear, supplying a blow-by-blow of her most recent defeat. Roth had used her hard. She’d be feeling the aftereffects of that wild fuck for some time. Both of them lost control last night. He physically, and she...

The pillow beneath her cheek was still damp from her tears. Her hand balled into a fist. He’d made her beg. At least she’d made him bleed. That was her only consolation since he’d witnessed her breakdown.

She should have walked away instead of questioning him about Grayson. Experience had warned her she’d lose if she engaged, and she’d done it anyway. She’d convinced herself she’d gone through a transformation in Berlin, taking charge of her inheritance and blocking him out of her consciousness. She’d thought she was becoming a true Hennessy, one with ice in her veins, who could play the game as effectively as him. He’d shattered that belief by easily storming her defenses and reducing her to rubble. Not even her father, who’d tried his damnedest to make her feel small and incompetent in her younger years, had managed to devastate her the way Roth did with very little effort.

On their wedding night, he’d vowed to break her. Last night, he’d succeeded. He’d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was pathetically susceptible to him. He could turn her body against her and take what she didn’t intend to offer. She wished she were anywhere else, so she could lick her wounds in peace and put herself back together with quiet dignity. Instead, the scent of her weakness clogged her nostrils and made her stomach writhe with rage and mortification.

She resented the sunshine that heralded another day. There was nowhere to run and no one to ask for help. For the first time, Jasmine wondered if she could endure 352 more days of his relentless campaign on her mind and her body. Her ideals and her morals had been pulverized, and he was steadily chipping away at her soul. Soon, she’d have nothing.

If only she’d known what she was getting herself into when she agreed to this marriage of convenience. No wonder Lyle had questioned her sanity. She’d deluded herself into believing she was older and wiser and could somehow beat Roth at his own game. That notion seemed ludicrous now. She felt like that desperate, naïve college student again, not a twenty-nine-year-old multimillionaire. Last night’s revelations lay so heavy on her she couldn’t move. There were invisible hairline fractures all over her body. If he kept pushing, she’d shatter.

What could she do? Even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew there was no way out. If she welshed on their deal, Roth wouldn’t be satisfied dismantling her family’s company; he’d go after her brothers-in-law and steal the legacies that belonged to her nieces and nephew too. She was shackled to a self-proclaimed monster with no moral compass. He’d do whatever he deemed necessary to gain control. That included bribery, charm, manipulation, blackmail, and brute force. She had no choice but to soldier on.

Jasmine turned from the light and let fresh tears seep into her pillow. She wouldn’t win in a one-on-one battle with him. He was too experienced in the art of war and armed with artillery specifically designed to inflict catastrophic damage. Retreat was her only option. She was done pitting her will against his. She’d keep her distance, learn to take the hits, and protect her innermost self from being mauled for his amusement.

She let the silence soothe her. At least Roth was consistent. He made himself scarce during daylight hours, ignoring her existence in favor of expanding his empire. He tended to avoid the messy aftermath of emotional battles like the one they’d engaged in last night. That granted Jasmine the time she needed to put herself back together, repair her shields, and recuperate in peace from another humiliating surrender. As her mind replayed her worst moments, she let out a low moan.

“Princess?”

She stopped breathing. No, no, no. What the hell was he doing here? She didn’t hear him move, but she felt a whoosh of air on her bare back a second before his hand slid across her waist, making her bite the pillow to stop her involuntary shiver. It took extreme discipline to keep her body loose when every nerve ending was screeching in alarm.

He buried his face in her tangled hair. “I know you’re awake.”

Her heart tripped. She didn’t want to talk to him, and she shouldn’t have to. The least he could do was give her time to recover before he launched another attack. She had no advantages—no warning that the enemy was close—and no armor either. What happened to her damn robe? She focused on that insignificant detail instead of the coarse fingertips that trailed up her spine, causing her skin to prickle. As they came back down, her hands twisted the sheets under the pillow. She’d just managed to stop herself from cursing when he palmed her butt.

“Playing possum?”

She stayed perfectly still and willed him to leave her be, but he wasn’t done toying with her. The grip on her ass disappeared as his fingers trailed lower and began to probe. Before he could penetrate, she gave up her ruse and rolled, dislodging his hand. She glared at him as he loomed over her. She felt like shit. Her body was aching, eyes nearly swollen shut, and she had to face this devil before she felt human again. He looked as if he’d been up for hours. He wore a fresh white dress shirt open at the throat, slacks, but no tie or jacket.

“What are you doing here?” she growled.

She let out an embarrassing yelp when he hooked her under the arms and hauled her out of bed like a kid, not a grown woman. As he set her on her feet, she raised her hands to shove him away but ended up grabbing hold of him to steady herself as her aches and pains became more pronounced. He cocked his head as he assessed her trembling form. She glared at him, because it was all his fault.

Roth didn’t gloat. Instead, he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. Jasmine didn’t fight. What was the use? He settled her on the edge of the black marble tub and turned on the taps, rolling up his sleeves to test the water before striding out. Roth had always been a man of few words, but this was odd, even for him. Not that Jasmine wanted him to stay.

She dipped her hand into the water and retracted it with a hiss, adjusting the temperature to her preference before Roth reappeared. He set a tray of dishes and a teapot onto a nearby stool before shaking out two pills from a bottle of aspirin and handing them to her. She accepted the medicine and downed it with orange juice before inspecting the heaping plate of English breakfast, complete with beans, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms, sausage, eggs, and bacon. There was also a bowl of what she suspected was porridge.

“I can’t eat all that,” she said.

“Eat what you can.”

He tested the water, frowned, and turned the cold-water valve down to a trickle. Jasmine ground her teeth.

---