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“You’re not going to ask me?” Jessa says abruptly.

“Ask you what?”

“About what happened,” she says, gesturing to her dress as though she’s asking for my opinion.

“Do you want me to?”

“I… I don’t know yet.”

“Then no, I’m not.” I start walking to the boat. After a moment, she follows. Yulian meets us halfway.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he asks in a cheesy cartoon villain voice.

Jessa looks between us in confusion before it clicks. We look too much alike to escape the obvious conclusion that we are, in fact, brothers.

“This is Yulian,” I tell her. “My right-hand man.”

“And brother,” Yulian adds.

“The only job he can’t be fired from.”

Yulian smirks but keeps his eyes on Jessa. “Don’t let the grumpy bastard fool you. He loves me.”

She smiles nervously, still glancing back and forth between the two of us. I understand her hesitancy—we’re not the most approachable duo.

I’m six-four and lean with muscle earned the hard way. Yulian is only two inches shorter, but he still spends hours in the gym to make up for the difference.

“Jessa is the new head chef for tonight,” I explain to him.

Yulian gives me an intrigued smile. “New head chef? Well, that’s something.”

“Is it a problem?” Jessa asks immediately. “Because if it is, I don’t need to be here.”

“No, no,” Yulian says in a hurry. “It’s not a problem at all. I’ll go and inform the staff now.”

Yulian retreats back up the dock and disappears into the yacht. I turn to Jessa and offer her a hand to help her transition from boardwalk to boat. Her fingers tremble when they make contact with mine.

The moment we’re onboard, she wrenches her hand back like I’ve burned her. I ignore it—for now.

“Come with me,” I say, taking her below deck. “I’ll find you something comfortable to wear for the night.”

Her golden eyes scan the yacht, taking stock of everything as we walk. She looks impressed, but there’s an air of caution about her, too. She’s clearly never accepted an offer like this before.

Hell, I’ve never made an offer like this before.

I walk her to one of the bedrooms. Inside is a wardrobe filled with spare clothes.

“Jesus, it’s even bigger than I thought,” she mumbles.

“Even the smallest spaces can be manipulated to look big,” I say.

“I’m a little sick of being manipulated today, actually,” she replies bitterly.

I let her words hang in the air for a moment as I peruse the options hanging in the wardrobe. “I’m assuming you’re talking about the man you were supposed to marry,” I say casually, pulling out a simple white dress.

It activates a sense memory the moment I touch it. The cotton between my fingers as I shove her away from me. The feeling of her pulse, warm and frantic, underneath my—

No.I ruthlessly yank myself back to the present.


Tags: Nicole Fox Stepanov Bratva Erotic