007: You Are Of Age Now, Little Lana

Svetlana just sat in the passenger seat, arms folded tight against her chest. She's unsure if she's trying to guard herself or keep the heat crawling up her neck from spreading any further.

Hose looked different, and not just different… BETTER.

His suit was sharp, tailored perfectly to his body. He's broader now, taller, and the shirt underneath hugs his chest and shoulders in a way that's... distracting.

Tchh! Svet scoffed mentally. "He doesn't even have the decency to look like the Hose I remember," she thought. "The one who'd lecture me for leaving a mess in the living room or stealing fries off his plate."

No, this Hose is someone else entirely.

Svet's gaze drifts, against her own better judgment, to his hands resting on the steering wheel. They were stronger now, veins pronounced, fingers long and precise.

She shouldn't be staring, that's a fact. But Svet couldn't help it.

Those hands looked like they belonged to someone who's spent years building something... or in contradiction, breaking it apart.

She shook her head and forced herself to focus on the road ahead. 'Stop it, Svetlana. He's your brother.'

But the memory of the dimly lit 911 room snuck in all of a sudden, uninvited. The man she'd seen there; tattooed, wild, the kind of man who breaks hearts without remorse… he couldn't be Hose, right?

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

Svetlana was 99.9% sure Hose didn't have tattoos. In fact, he was the most disciplined person she knew. He wouldn't do things like that.

And yet...

"If the room hadn't been so dim, would I have noticed a similarity?" Her stomach twisted at the thought.

No. That's utterly ridiculous.

She had noticed Hose came from the main door, the one that leads to the exit. If he had been upstairs in that room, he would've come down the staircase, right?

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

"Why were you there?" she blurted out.

She watched him. She saw his jaw tightened. Saw his eyes flick toward her briefly before focusing back on the road. "I came to close a deal with a client."

"What deal? Who's this client?"

Hose didn't answer right away. Instead, his grip on the wheel tightened.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked finally, his tone calm but laced with something else, something darker.

Svetlana hesitated.

Did she want to know?

Her throat felt dry all of a sudden, for no reason. "I... I don't know," she admitted.

Hose exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if Svetlana was being ridiculous. "What? Does it matter?"

'It matters,' Svet wanted to scream. 'It matters because I'm confused, because I don't know who you are anymore.'

But the words stayed stuck in her throat.

Instead, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The heat between her thighs was making her want to scream. She pressed her legs together tightly, but it only made things worse.

Miranda's voice decided to ring in her head at that moment: "If you feel something wet down there, Svet Sweetie, it's not pee. It just means you're turned on."

Jesus Christ!

She stole another glance at Hose.

His profile was sharp, his jaw clenched, his lips set in a firm line. How is it possible for someone to look this... good?

"Why were you even there?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"I went with Miranda, a good friend," Svet muttered defensively.

He scoffed. "A good friend or a bad friend? She dragged you into that place. She's reckless, Lana."

"She's not!" Svetlana snapped, more out of habit than conviction.

Hose shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "I'll call someone to find her, if she's still there."

Before Svetlana could protest, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out to her. "Does she look like this?"

Huh? How? How did he get Miranda's photo? "Y-yes."

"My assistant would handle it."

That's all he said and the way he said it made her stomach twist again. This Hose; richer, sharper, more commanding, feels like a complete stranger even more now.

When he put the phone away, Svet found herself blurting out, "Where have you been, Senior Hose?"

The title slipped out before she could stop it. It was a habit from when she was younger, two years old precisely, when he was the one she told everything to. Both the stupid ones with gugu-gaga baby language or the unserious ones when she started to talk fluently, and down to the childish secrets when she was over toddler.

He didn't smile like he used to when she called him that. Instead, his expression hardened.

"Busy," he said simply. "Work."

Work? That's all I get?

Svet's legs shifted again, and she pressed them even tighter together. The heat and wetness downward was unbearable now, and she hated herself for it.

Hose glanced at her, his eyes flicking downward to her kitty kat area briefly before meeting her eyes again. Svetlana's cheeks burned, and she quickly turned her head to the window, mortified.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now. Almost... concerned.

"I'm fine," Svet lied, but her voice trembled.

Well, she was not fine. She was not fine at all. Her body was betraying her, and the worst part is that Hose seemed to notice… or worse, know.

Svetlana froze. Her breath caught in her throat.

She heard Hose suddenly chuckle softly, as if this was all some kind of joke.

What's funny? Does he really know?

She couldn't even look at him at this outrageous moment.

Her face felt like it was on fire, and her heart was racing so fast it was a miracle it hadn't burst out of her chest.

'This can't be happening. He's turning me on and 'he' is my brother. My brother.'

"You are of age now, Little Lana. It's normal to get turned on when you see a fine specimen of the opposite sex," Hose said suddenly, voice low and almost amused. "Even if that fine specimen is me. Your brother."

Svetlana: "...."

Svetlana: (gulps)