NEW YORK CITY
Jasmine's POV
I wake up to a bright light, my head hurting a little and my opened eyes glancing around the room.
This is strange.
I am in a strange bed and a strange room.
Where am I? I scramble out of the bed, my eyes moving to the curtains where the light is seeping into the room from.
The bed is high and the duvet is white just like the paintings on the wall. The curtain is white and almost every other thing in the room.
I turn back, feeling scared that I have been kidnapped.
What happened? I ask inwardly again, trying my very best to remember what happened.
The inquisitive me ignores the little question in my brain when I spot a small bookshelf with several books on it.
The curiosity takes the better of me because I find myself taking slow baby steps toward the shelf.
I pick up the first book my hand comes in contact with and I see New York Best Selling written boldly on it.
I gasp.
Am I in New York? I twirl around in alarm as the memories come rushing back.
There was a man. He was drunk.
There was another man. He saved me.
Why am I here? Who brought me here between the two men? Am I safe?
Right in time to answer my question, I hear the door open and a blue-eyed dangerous-looking man peeps into the room.
Our gaze interlocks and he opens the door wider to come in. When he closes the door behind him quietly, dipping his hand into his pants pocket, I recognize him.
He is the man from last night, the one who saved me. He is the same man who was watching me all through the night.
Who is he? Why did he bring me here?
As he steps forward, towards me, I ask the only question in my head. "Are we in New York?"
His expression remains unreadable. He doesn't stop moving towards me and when he is a few meters away, I begin to back away slowly, fear gripping my existence, a cold shiver running down my spine at the deadly cold stare he is giving me.
The look is intense, boring into me like a dagger. He is staring at me like the enemy and it suddenly dawns on me that I have been mistaken for someone else.
Is this why he brought me here? How long did I pass out? Are we truly in New York City? Do I look like this girl he is mistaking me for or this is just an excuse to kidnap me?
Realizing that I still have the New York Times Bestselling book in my hand, I drop it. It falls to the floor and his gaze leaves me for a while to stare at the book on the floor.
I shut my eyes. I didn't mean to drop it. I did that out of fear. He is too close and the aura he emits is nothing good.
He looks dangerous as well as handsome and I don't know what to think of him.
Then, he looks up. I see a flicker of something in his eyes but I don't know what it means.
He takes another step forward and I take another backward till my back hits a wall, stopping me from moving backward till he gets tired and leaves me alone.
Before I can change the position and continue to move away from him, he quickly steps forward and cages me between his arms, his eyes fixated on mine, as though he is searching desperately for answers to the numerous questions in his head.
I wish I can do the same too because I have a lot of questions in my head but I can't even bring myself to look into his eyes for more than a second.
His breath fans my entire face and I shut my eyes again.
He smells nice.
His cologne is heavenly so is his breath.
Strawberry? I love strawberries.
"Now that you have risen from the dead, give me two genuine reasons why you ran off", he says between gritted teeth, his expression now readable. It is filled with nothing but rage. His eyes are stormy red too.
I can't find my voice. I want to tell him that I am Jasmine. I want to tell him that I am an orphan and I have stayed in Chicago all my life. I want to tell him all about me but my tongue is tied-twisted.
I can't bring myself to form a single word of defense so he will know that this is not the woman who ran away but a woman who has been mistaken for someone else and kidnapped.
Something clicks in my head.
My work.
I have to resume work this morning and I am not in Chicago from the look of things. How do I get to my boss to inform him about the situation? Where the hell is my phone?
"Answer me, woman!" He yells into my face and I get startled, my eyes closing up on their own accord.
The voice is ringing a loud bell in my ear drum and it feels like it is still echoing. I tremble a little and my lips are quivering in fear.
Who is this man?
I am not that woman. I am different.
"Cat got your tongue, I said why did you leave? Why did you humiliate me? Why did you consent when you knew you were going to run off like the coward that you are? Why?!"
I almost hugged my body into nothingness. I wish the ground would open up so I could be swallowed by it and rescued from this man.
I don't know him.
He grabs my jaw, ensuring that I maintain eye contact with him. "Answer me now!"
I stutter. I can't form any words. My head is blank also. I can't think straight.
With my chest heaving up and down in fright, I open my mouth wider, making him let go of my jaw.
I shake my head. "I swear to you, I don't know what you are talking about."
He snorts in disbelief.
I know he won't believe me easily but I will prove to him that I am different so he can let me go. I will take a bus back home and be safe from him.
"I am Jasmine'', I announce loudly, my breath hitching for a second, hoping that I will be able to convince a strong-headed man like him. "I have lived all my life in Chicago. I don't know who you are talking about. I have never been to New York. My parents died when I was still little. My Aunt took me in and took care of me till I began to fend for myself. I don't know you, Mister."
I blurt out the words in one breath. I never knew I would say all of those words but I guess it will be worth it.
The man begins to laugh like a maniac. That sort of wicked laugh that spells out the I-don't-believe-you word.
I am not lying. I won't lie unless necessary.
My Aunt taught me never to lie. She said it kills the soul and changes your personality. She warned that lies make the heart dark because a lie will keep coming as easily as the truth.
I always avoid lying.
Why can't he just believe me?
"You think I am a fool? You are Andre and you know it!" He points an accusing finger at me.
Before I can open my mouth to counter him, he grabs my neck, as if to strangle me.
He raises me with his hand still on my neck and turns around, then he pushes me into the bed and my wig comes off immediately to reveal my true hair.
My eyes widen in fear and I try to turn slightly to grab the wig but his hands on mine stop me from picking the wig up.
He climbs over me and looks from the wig to my hair, then he exclaims loudly in disbelief. "What the hell!"