Anton steps forward, using the few extra inches of height he has over his brother to his advantage. “Stop fucking 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.
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“So they just all magically know?”
“No. You told them,” he says.
“Like hell I did!”
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 fucking 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 sex 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 bitch, 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?”