I raise my eyebrows. "You'd keep catering?"
"I'm the one who hires caterers, not the one who works for them."
"Are you offering me a job?" I joke bitterly.
He cocks his head to the side. "If you want it."
I frown when he blinks. He's not joking. "Excuse me?"
"You see that yacht over there by the far right dock?" he asks. I follow his pointing finger to see the biggest boat by far. It's a glistening hull of purest white, catching the setting sun and the faceted sapphire reflection of the water below.
"The Medusa?"
He nods. "She's mine. And I'm in need of a caterer."
I stare at him in shock. "You're serious?"
"Yes."
His gray eyes are hypnotic. A shiver passes through me, but I'm not sure if I'm hot or cold.
"When?" I manage to croak out. "When are you leaving?"
He smirks. "Right now."
2
ANTON
"I don't even know your name," she says, looking at me sideways.
Her eyes are an unusual hazel, the light green and caramel brown mixing into a kind of beautiful golden honey.
Sobbing in the sand in a wedding dress is what caught my attention. But her eyes are what held it.
"Tell me yours and I might return the favor."
"Jessa," she tells me. "Jessa Gilmore."
"Jessa," I murmur. She tastes good on my lips. "I am Anton."
If she notices that I've left out my last name, she ignores it and looks out toward The Medusa. My yacht is sitting pretty at the edge of the dock, ready to set sail.
"That's a nice boat," she remarks.
"Some men would take umbrage at that word."
"Boat?" she asks.
I shake my head. "'Nice.'"
She smiles. Her eyes flash golden, the same shade as her hair.
"Not that you asked," I continue, "but I pay my head chefs seven thousand dollars a night."
Her jaw drops. "I must've misheard you."
"Depends on what you heard."
"Seven thousand dollars for one night?" she bleats. "Is that true or is this just pity?"
"I'm not the pitying kind, Jessa. I pay well, but I expect you to earn it."
"I can cook," she says, her tone growing proud and defensive.
"Excellent. The staff will already be on board," I tell her. "The menu is more or less complete, but according to the ingredients at your disposal, you could change what you like."
She takes that in. "If you have all of that ready, why don't you already have a chef?"
"He canceled at the last moment," I lie seamlessly. "Family emergency, apparently. The sous chef was going to take over, but the girl is not as experienced as I prefer."
"You don't know what kind of experience I have," she points out.
"I have an instinct about these things."
I can tell she wants to question my logic, or lack thereof. But she also doesn't want to talk herself out of the possibility of escape.
She keeps looking back over her shoulder every few minutes like she's expecting to see someone running after her.
"Clock's ticking, Jessa," I say softly. "You need to make up your mind. Coming or going?"
She chews at her bottom lip as she thinks. I take the opportunity to survey her without shame.
The neckline of her gown scoops down, revealing the tops of her generous breasts. The tight bodice tapers at her waist before flaring over her hips. She's sin in white, with ocean foam and soft pearls of sand clinging to the hem. A fucking vision.
Over her shoulder, I notice my brother, Yulian, striding down the dock toward where we're standing on the shore. He raises his eyebrows the moment he sees the woman at my side.
"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.
