Satin Princess(76)

“My apartment,” Jessa tells him.

Yulian frowns and turns to me. “We have a meeting in like forty minutes. Are you going to be there for that?”

“She just wants to grab a few things and then we’ll be heading back. I might be a little late, but you and Lev can hold down the fort until I get there.”

“Great. Another day making excuses for you,” he says with an amused eye roll.

“I’ve been making excuses for you for decades. It’s about time you returned the favor.”

Yulian’s smile comes easier this time around. I can tell we’re slowly moving back into normalcy. “See you back at the mansion then,” he says before offering Jessa a special wave. “Looking good, girl.”

She laughs and says goodbye to him before I speed away.

“‘Looking good, girl,’” I mutter under my breath. “Give me a fucking break.”

“He’s being sweet.”

“He’s flirting. And walking a dangerous line.”

She rolls her eyes. “Glad to see things are a little less tense between the two of you. It’s about time you kissed and made up.”

For a girl who gets it wrong quite a bit, she can be surprisingly perceptive when she wants to be.

I snort. “Why are you playing peacekeeper?”

“Because I like Yulian and I care about you. I just want everyone to get along.”

“What a charming little Girl Scout you are.”

She shrugs. “I like to see the good in people.”

“That’s backfired on you a few times now, hasn’t it?”

She considers that for a moment. “Okay, yeah. I’m wrong a lot. But I’ve thought about it and I’d rather be like that than the alternative. I’d rather trust too much than too little. I’d rather love too much than not at all.”

I shake my head. “My father’s head would have exploded if he heard you say that.”

“Yours looks like it’s not far from exploding, too.”

I nod. “You’re not wrong. That mindset would have gotten me killed a long, long time ago.”

“You don’t trust anyone?” Jessa asks, sounding almost sad to hear it.

“I trust my inner circle.”

“And your inner circle consists of whom?” Jessa asks. “Lev and Yulian, right? That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of sad?” she asks.

“It’s smart.”

She sighs. “I notice I didn’t make it into your circle. Does that mean you don’t trust me?”

I give her a sideways glance. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Answer the question, smart ass.”

“Of course I trust you,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t have asked you to move in with me if I didn’t.”

She stops talking, which strikes me as odd, considering the conversation was more playful than serious.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking the last corner before her street.

“Um… sorry. Can you pull over?”

I pull to the side of the road immediately and Jessa practically jumps out of the car. I follow after her, wondering what I said to get this reaction. Then I see it’s not anything I said at all.

She bends over and places her palms on her knees. Her back roils as she tries to suppress a heave. I move closer to her and put my hand on her back.

“Go back to the car,” she groans. “You don’t need to see this.”

“I’ve seen far worse things come out of people than vomit, kotyonok.”

She groans again, louder, and tries to push me away with one hand, but her concentration is split and I’m not willing to move. She dry heaves a couple more times before straightening up.

“Jesus,” she breathes.

“Just throw up instead of suppressing it,” I tell her. “You’ll feel better after.”

“I didn’t eat this morning because I was nauseous. And I didn’t end up eating with Chris at the restaurant. There’s nothing to throw up.”

“Maybe we need to get you an IV drip.”

“What will that do?” she asks.

“Get rid of the nausea so that you can eat and drink.”

Her eyes glaze over with desire. “Sounds like magic.” She takes a deep breath and stands tall. “Okay, I think I’m good now.”

“You’re sure?”

She takes a second to answer, but then she nods confidently. “I’m good.”

We get back in the car and finish the trip to her apartment. It’s only a minute away, but I drive extra slow so that I don’t aggravate her nausea.

“Thank you,” she says softly as I park just outside her building.

“For what?”

She glances at me. “For taking such good care of me.”

I give her a nod and get out of the car. By the time I reach the other side, she’s out, too. She stands on the curb and looks up at the building with a conflicted look on her face.

“This was my first grown-up apartment,” she murmurs. “It’s weird how attached you get to a place.”

“You felt safe here.”