Chapter 11 Episode 11

“Why would you care either way?” “Because I don’t think my brother will kill you tonight,” he says bluntly. “And maybe you’re right and your legs didn’t have anything to do with it. But he saw something in you he liked.” “Let’s pretend that’s true. If so, you’re here to do… what?” “Me?” He shrugs, pure nonchalance, like we’re nothing more than two friendly strangers chatting in a dog park or something. “Nothin’. I’m just curious.” I frown. “Curious about what?” “He has an… interesting track record with women. So if you caught his eye, then I wanted to see what the fuss was all about.” This time, I can’t stop the shiver from traversing up my spine. He doesn’t miss it. “Ah. so you’ve heard the rumors. That kitchen staff sure chatters a lot. For people who work on a boat, you’d think they’d be familiar with the phrase ‘Loose lips sink ships.’” I swallow hard. My throat is suddenly parched. “Is it true?” I hear myself croak. “That depends,” he says, “on which rumor you heard.” I open my mouth to respond, but then I hear footsteps approaching. Somehow, I know it’s Anton. The fear I’ve managed to barely shove aside rises up in full force. I wonder what will happen to me once they’re finished. Maybe I’ll just disappear forever, no trace left behind. Or maybe my bloated corpse will wash up on some tropical shoreline, thousands of miles from where we are right now. And what happens when you’re dead? Is it just an eternity of blackness? Do I become a ghost, an angel, a memory, a wisp of wind? As my heart races and my chest rises and falls, I can feel Anton’s phone lodged in my bra. It strikes me a second later that if the cursed thing rings, I’m screwed. But with his brother’s eyes on me and Anton’s footsteps approaching, there’s nothing I can do about it now. “Yulian,” Anton growls when he storms back into the room. He steps over the spot where the dead man was lying just a few minutes ago, but he doesn’t so much as glance down. To him, the murder is already ancient history. “Is there a reason you’re down here?” he asks his brother. “Just wanted to make sure she wouldn’t make a break for it,” Yulian says, giving Anton a wide smile. “But now, I can see why she has you so intrigued.” Anton steps forward, using the few extra inches of height he has over his brother to his advantage. “Stop f*****g around and go take care of your business.” “You’d think the girl would have put you in a better mood,” Yulian grumbles. “Yulian,” Anton snaps again. He sounds dangerous. Yulian turns tail and leaves the room at once. Then Anton turns his eyes to me. I should be afraid to be alone with him again, but I find myself feeling, of all things, relieved. Yulian wears that smile that should put me at ease, but he has a way of staring that makes me feel like a lab rat under observation. Anton is different. Anton is one of one. “Did you have to tell the whole damn boat about what happened?” I demand. “So they just all magically know?” “No. You told them,” he says. He takes a step towards me and somehow, it feels like his stolen phone gets heavier between my breasts. “You’re the one who told the whole f*****g boat. With your screams and moans and gasps.” He eyes me cruelly, waiting for a snappy retort. I try to look defiant, but it’s hard when you’re blushing like I am. “Disposed of the body yet?” I ask. Mostly because it’s honestly easier talking about that than it is to discuss my vocal performance earlier in the night. “As a matter of fact, I have.” “Am I the last loose end you need to tie up?” I’m terrified that he’s going to notice his phone is missing. If he does, it’ll only take him seconds to figure out that I’m the culprit. The boat just isn’t big enough to hide. “Tying you up—now, there’s a thought,” he murmurs. His tone is pure s*x and it’s nauseating what it does to me. For Christ’s sake, I just saw him murder a man in cold blood. But he drops the merest hint about bondage and suddenly, I’m a sopping mess for him? No. Hell no. My body may be a traitorous b***h, but I’m never letting Anton Stepanov lay another finger on me. “Please don’t kill me,” I whisper. “I have things I want to do, goals I want to reach. I have a life to live.” He nods. “And you understand that causing me problems is going to affect the life you want to live?” I nod stupidly. “I do.” He stares at my face so hard that I wonder if my skin is going to start melting. It certainly feels hot enough to do the trick. “Well, then, as long as we understand each other.” It takes me a moment to compute those words. “Wait. Are you serious? Does that mean you’re going to let me go?” “Would you prefer I choose a different route?” I want to feel relief, but somehow, the expected feeling doesn’t come. He’s still in my path, blocking my way out of the cabin. Still in my line of sight, blotting out the past and the future alike. “No,” I whisper, letting my eyes fall. “I want to go.” His answer is to step close to me. His scent fills my nostrils, sweet and rich and somehow dark, if that’s a thing that scents can be. He touches my chin with two soft fingers and forces my gaze to rise up and meet his. “Can I trust you, Jessa?” he asks, unblinking. I hold eye contact. “Can I trust you?” He smiles. It’s a dangerous half-smile that promises all kinds of things I really would prefer for him not to name. “You keep your mouth shut about what happened here tonight, and you’ll have nothing to worry about.” “What happened here?” I ask innocently. He chuckles and nods. “That’s a good girl.” I blush. On paper, that’s demeaning as hell. But in this room, with this man and his touch and his heat and the threat he poses by simply existing… It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Now, let’s hope I never hear it again. He lets his hand fall and steps to the side. The escape path is clear and the voices in my head are screaming for me to make like The Flash and get the hell outta here. I can still feel his cell phone lodged between my breasts. Is it smart to take it? Is it stupid? No, I tell myself firmly. It’s the right thing to do. I have no reason to trust the man. His word is certainly not enough for me. Not anymore. I swallow my doubts and head towards the door. My heart sinks for a second, but I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Yes?” “I’ll be dropping by at some point,” he informs me. “Just to see how you’re doing.” I’m under no allusions as to what he really means. “You don’t know where I live.” “1301 Henning Street. Somerset Villas. Apartment Thirty-Four.” The knot in my throat doubles in size. I suck in a desperate breath. “Got it,” I tell him as calmly as I can muster. “Can’t wait.” “Goodnight, Jessa,” he says. “You really are a brilliant chef. Here.” I stiffen when he reaches into his shirt pocket—it’s a gun, he’s going to kill me, this was all a sick game oh God oh God oh— But then he pulls out a piece of paper. He unfolds it as he hands it to me, revealing my paycheck for the night. “Don’t thank me,” he says. “You earned this.” I take the check from his extended hand and slip it into the empty pocket of the dress. “Um… the dress—” “Keep it,” he says. “It suits you better, anyway.” I frown. Is he comparing me to the wife he lost? A.k.a., the one he possibly murdered? Despite what I’ve seen tonight, it surprises me that I’m still unwilling to believe that he’s capable of killing the woman he exchanged vows with. Although, come to think of it, I could probably waterboard Dane and feel no type of guilt about it. Heartbreak is a funny thing like that. “Just so you know,” I tell him, “I’m not taking any more yacht jobs. For you or anyone else.” He smirks. “I can’t see why you would.” I turn and head out the door as fast as I can. I half-expect to be stopped when I reach the main deck, but Yulian and the other one—Lev, I think his name was—both step aside to let me pass. There’s no sign of anyone else. Not even the staff I spent most of the night cooking alongside. They’ve probably disembarked, laughing about the i***t chef who fell in way over her head, and heading back to their homes for a night of dreamless sleep, After the day I’ve had, I may never sleep again. I walk fast, my heels hitting the wooden dock so hard that it reverberates along the boardwalk. I don’t turn around or look back until I’m out of the marina and standing on solid ground.