"Seems to me that's exactly what he is."
"I don't know," she replies, looking forlornly up at the cloudy sky. "It kinda feels like I'm the fool in this scenario."
"Because you didn't realize he was cheating on you?"
She looks at me. "I saw them today, Anton. I saw them together. The way they talked to each other when they were alone. The way they touched. This affair has been going on for a while. And I never suspected a thing."
"You trusted them."
She nods. "I did."
"But you won't make that mistake again."
"With them?" she asks.
"With anyone."
She frowns. "I don't want to be that way, though. I don't want to be the kind of person that never gives anyone a shot because of two assholes in my past."
"Take it from someone who knows," I advise her. "Most people are assholes. Save yourself the trouble of giving every single person a chance."
"That's never been how I live my life."
"Time to adopt a different philosophy, wouldn't you say?"
She looks at me skeptically. "Who broke you?"
"I've never been broken, Jessa," I tell her. "That's the whole point."
A gust of ocean breeze washes over us and she shivers in her thin dress. I pull off my coat and guide it around her shoulders.
She's about to decline, but the moment the thick fabric falls over her arms, she sighs with relief. "Wow, I needed that more than I realized."
She slides her hands into the arm holes and the fabric swallows her whole. She has to push the sleeves up to make her hands visible.
"Thank you."
I nod and pull out the cigar I've been hanging onto all night. She watches as I light it and bring it to my lips. The scent of vanilla wafts off the tip and she closes her eyes for a second.
"Mm, that smell."
"You like it?"
She nods. "Yeah. It's rich. Sweet. Like vanilla for a crème brûlée."
"Any chance that's what you're making for dessert tonight?"
She smiles. "Sorry. There was too much chocolate in the pantry for me to ignore."
"Chocolate," I scoff. "That's Yulian's doing, no doubt."
"You can't blame him. There's nothing like chocolate to cure a bad mood."
"I prefer sex."
Her cheeks flush with color and she avoids my eyes. "Is that why you called me up here? You were in a bad mood?"
"I just needed a distraction," I tell her. "As did you."
Again, perhaps it's cruel to be so blunt, but I don't want her assuming that this is anything more than it is. Once this yacht is back in the marina, I plan on sending her back to her life.
What's left of it, that is.
"I suppose you're right about that," she mutters to herself.
"Do you feel guilty?" I ask.
She looks surprised by the question. "Not in the slightest."
I smile. "Good."
Suddenly, I hear Yulian clear his throat and turn to see him walking towards us. He looks mildly surprised to see the two of us fully dressed. Then he notices Jessa's chef's jacket discarded to one side of the bow and grins knowingly.
"Sorry to interrupt this intimate little rendezvous, but we just caught boat lights," he tells me.
I nod and get to my feet. Jessa follows suit. "What does that mean?"
"I have some colleagues coming on board to discuss business. Their vessel is approaching."
"Oh," she says. Then she seems to realize that that's her cue. "You're going to want dinner."
"That would ensure your check at the end of the night."
She gives me an embarrassed smile. "Right. Okay, um, I'll just be… going then."
She walks around me and then picks up the pace as she passes Yulian. The fucker does not take his eyes off her as she moves past him. As surreptitiously as she can, she grabs her chef's coat on the way out.
The moment she's gone, Yulian turns to me. "You lucky fuck."
"Where's Lev?"
Yulian ignores me. "How was she?"
"None of your damn business."
"Ooh, so it was good? I had a feeling."
"Is the oval room ready?" I ask curtly.
Yulian gives me a long-suffering sigh. "You're no fun. You haven't been since Mari—" He stops short when he notices my dagger-like expression. "Yes, Anton, the room is ready."
"Send them down when they arrive," I order.
I storm past him impatiently and head to the oval room below deck. I have to resist the urge to stop by the kitchen just so that I can sneak in another glance at her.
My fascination with Jessa should have waned after the fuck. That's always the pattern.
But instead, I find myself even more intrigued by her.
The oval room is cozy, but it's functionally arranged with two sofas facing each other around a central table. The layout promotes a sense of equality, even ground… despite the fact that that's never actually the case.
I sit down in the middle of one of the sofas and lay my second phone face down on the glass-topped center table. A few minutes later, the door opens and Lev walks in, leading three men.
Two are familiar to me. One is new.
I already know that Lev will have frisked all three of them, but I still give them the once-over. "Colleague" is a fickle term in my line of work.
So is "work."
"Benyamin," I say by way of greeting. "Thanks for joining me."
Benyamin Meninsky, the leader of a cartel of Israeli weapons exporters, nods low, taking the center space in the sofa opposite me. His watery eyes ignore all else to stay focused solely on me.
His righthand man, Omer, plops down next to him, draping his arm along the back of the sofa and lounging like he owns the yacht. I'm well-accustomed to his false sense of bravado.
The one I'm interested in is the new face. He's younger than I would have expected to see at a meeting like this. And he bears a striking resemblance to Benyamin.
"Introducing the boy to the family business, are we?" I guess.
"I'm no boy," he cuts in before his father can.
I raise my eyes at the pale-faced youth. If he's older than twenty-three, I'll eat my fucking gun. He's only now starting to outgrow the acne that clings to his jawline.
"A man would have known to keep his mouth shut," I snap while his old man gives him a deadly side glare.
"Forgive the boy," Benyamin says, doubling down on the word that had so offended his son. "Moshe is new to all this."
I raise my brows. "You should have started him sooner."
The boy, Moshe, looks like he's teetering between anger and annoyance. He wants to be considered an equal, but he's yet to earn his mark. From the looks of it, he has a long way to go still.
"Dinner will be ready shortly," I inform them. "But I like to get business out of the way first. That way, we can all enjoy dessert."
"As you wish, Don Stepanov," Benyamin agrees.
"Excellent. Then let's begin."
Lev comes in and takes the seat to my right. Yulian hovers at the door for a moment before walking over to flank me on the left.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "What do you have for me, Benyamin?"
"A whole shipment of new weapons," he says. His eyes flash greedily.
Omer glances at his boss and then back to me. There's an unease between the two of them tonight. The boy isn't helping matters.
"But…"
"I don't like 'buts,'" I growl.
Benyamin shrugs, not apologetic in the least. "There's a forty percent increase from the last time."
"Ten percent?" I say with amusement. "You've got to be joking."
"Anton—"
"You're owed a markup," I say generously. "But forty percent is highway robbery."
He exchanges a glance with Omer. I don't miss the surge of communication that passes between them.
"What aren't you telling me?" I ask.
"We've had to increase our profit margin," Benyamin explains haltingly. "We lost a big client recently."
"What's that got to do with me or my Bratva?"
"We lost the client because of you," he explains.
It only takes me a few seconds to connect the dots. Lev gets there two seconds after I do. "Rodion," he says in a hushed voice.