Page 144 of Toxic Temptation
“No, as a matter of fact, I haven’t.”
“Keep telling yourself whatever stories you like, Vesper.” His voice drops to a whisper. “But meditate on this: maybe, just maybe… Thomas Fairfax wasn’t the man you think he was.”
49
VESPER
He was not the man you think he was.
Jeremy’s words circle my mind like vultures over roadkill. I hate that I’m letting him get to me, to intrude inside my head and my thoughts. But there he is anyway, dripping his poison into my ears until he’s taken root, refusing to let me rest even after I’ve left the weight of the hospital and this horrible day behind me.
I consider driving to my apartment and hiding there alone. But thanks to my new reduced hours, I don’t have to be at the hospital tomorrow. The thought of facing four empty walls makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Which is strange, because a few months ago, the idea of going home to a house full of people, full of Krayev boys, would have sent me straight to the medicine cabinet for anxiety meds.
Funny how things change. How quickly and how thoroughly.
The mansion is dark when I pull into the driveway behind one of Kovan’s cars. The convertible top is still down, which means he probably took Luka for a drive tonight. I can picture them—wind-tousled hair, mouths spread in wide, identical smiles—and my heart thuds painfully.
I slip inside, shedding my shoes by the door so I can move silently on bare feet. Relief pours over me as I head to the kitchen, as I smell the hints of Kovan and Luka and see their things everywhere, the little reassurances that they’re still where I left them, even if the rest of the world is falling to pieces.
I can tell by how overwrought and melodramatic my thoughts are getting that I’m hungry. I need real food after surviving twenty-four hours on saltines and black coffee.
The fridge is stocked with leftovers—roast beef, sautéed potatoes, honey beets. But when I open the containers, my stomach roils. I can’t eat. Not tonight.
So I make coffee instead. Black-as-night coffee with milk and sugar, because that’s my version of drowning my sorrows in ice cream straight from the carton.
I’m finishing the last sip when a shadow fills the doorway. Kovan appears, looking wide awake despite the fact that it’s almost four in the morning.
“How did you know I was here?”
He doesn’t answer, but I figure it out immediately. “Right. Pavel.” I press my palm to my forehead. “I have to hand it to him—I didn’t see him once today.”
“He’s good at staying invisible when he needs to be,” Kovan explains. “He thought you had enough to deal with today.”
I’m not sure how I feel about all that. I decide to process the feeling later, when I’m less exhausted.
“I did indeed have enough to deal with.” I stand up. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed.”
He doesn’t move. His massive frame blocks the doorway completely. I consider trying to squeeze past him, but that seems like a terrible idea for multiple reasons.
“Please, Kovan.”
His hand settles on my hip. The touch is so unexpected that for a second, I forget how to breathe. It feels familiar in a way that should terrify me.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
I look up at him, which is a mistake. Those green eyes trap me instantly.
“You already know what’s wrong. Pavel would have told you everything.”
“Pavel gives me updates, not details,” he says. “I want to hear it from you.”
I knock his hand away. “Let me go.”
He doesn’t budge. “Tell me what happened.”
“No!” The cry bursts out of me. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s too fresh. Too raw. What I really want is…”
