Page 154 of Toxic Temptation
“Nothing else changes,” I confirm, grabbing my keys from the counter. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Going to work?”
I should tell her the truth: that I’m about to walk into Jeremy Fleming’s office and tear apart his entire fucking world. If he pisses me off, I’ll tear apart his limbs, too.
But she doesn’t need to know that yet.
“Yeah. Meetings all day. I’ll be back tonight.”
I almost lean in to kiss her goodbye. The impulse is so strong I have to grip the counter to stop myself. What the hell is wrongwith me? That’s boyfriend behavior, and I am definitely not her boyfriend.
Instead, I pat her ass as I walk past. “See you later, Doc.”
That feels safer. Casual. Like something a man would do to a woman he’s just sleeping with.
I can work with that.
The receptionist at St. Raphael’s is old enough to be my mother, but she’s staring at me like I’m her next meal.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, running her tongue across her bottom lip.
“I don’t need one. Tell Mr. Fleming that Kovan Krayev is here to see him. Trust me—he’ll want to take this meeting.”
She disappears into his office, leaving me alone with the wall of certificates and awards. Vesper’s father’s name appears on half of them. Dr. Thomas Fairfax seemed like a busy man. The more I learn about Vesper’s family, the more curious I become.
But that’s a problem for another day.
“Mr. Krayev?” The receptionist holds the door open. “Mr. Fleming is delighted to meet you.”
Jeremy Fleming’s office looks like it was decorated by someone who thinks money equals taste. Everything is beige or brown or black, psychotically coordinated and completely soulless. The man himself is better looking than his photos suggested—less serial killer, more politician.
“This is unexpected.” Fleming stands, extending his hand. “Mr. Krayev, correct?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Please, sit.” He gestures to a woman standing near his desk. “This is my colleague, Dr. Shana Reed.”
I ignore the offered chair and barely acknowledge her. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all. How can I help you? Do you have family being treated here?”
Of course he assumes I’m here for a favor. Probably thinks I want special treatment for some relative, and that’s just another day of business for him. I’m sure he spends most of his time redirecting money to the wards where the “important” patients are recuperating. Why waste money on life saving equipment for pediatrics patients when the mayor’s wife needs new lip filler to go along with her tummy tuck and rhinoplasty?
“I’m not here to ask for anything, Mr. Fleming,” I say. “In fact, I’m here to give you something very important.”
His eyes light up. “A donation? That would be wonderful?—”
“Not a donation.” I cross my arms. “Advice.”
The smile falters. “Advice?”
“The kind that might save your career. You should listen carefully.”
Fleming exchanges a look with the blonde. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s simple. Take care of your assets. The good doctors you have working here. Stop wasting their talent and you might actually help people instead of just lining your pockets.”
His fake smile is disintegrating. “I’m sorry, what exactly?—”
