Page 164 of Toxic Temptation
“Mom!”
In thirty-one years, I have never heard my mother curse. Not once. Not even when she slammed her finger in the car door and it swelled up like a Saturday morning cartoon.
Waylen is clutching the edge of the table, his ears turning red as he fails to stifle his laughter.
“I’m going to murder you,” I hiss at him.
“Hippocratic Oath,” he chokes out. “First, do no harm.”
“There are exceptions.” I throw a balled-up napkin at his face. “I’ll make one for you.”
“Enough.” Mom cuts through our bickering. “Let’s not lose our marbles here. Waylen, that was cruel. Vesper should have been allowed to tell me herself, and in much nicer fashion to boot.” She turns to me with thoughtful eyes. “But since we’re here, I’d like to know about this man.”
I don’t have time to focus on the fact that Waylen just got scolded—lightly, but scolded nonetheless—for probably the first time in his whole charmed life. Usually, Waylen can do no wrong. In Mom’s eyes, that brother of mine shits roses.
“Ahem.” Mom clears her throat. “I’m all ears, dear. All non-judgmental ears.”
My stomach churns. “It’s complicated.”
“Most worthwhile things are.” She waves a hand. “Go on then. Don’t be shy.”
“We’re just… helping each other. It’s temporary.”
“But you’re sleeping with him.”
An embarrassed flush crawls up my neck. “When did you become so direct?”
“When I realized life was too short to pretend my daughter wasn’t avoiding me, or that she’d rather spend time sawing open corpses than sharing a meal with her own mother.”
I flinch like she slapped me. Then, trying to ease the tension in the room, I insist, “Mom, that’s not true. If I do my job right, they don’t end up as corpses at all.”
She doesn’t bother faking a laugh. “I’m not trying to guilt you, dear. But it’s been six months. Six months since you’ve sat in this kitchen, Vesper. And I’d bet dollars to donuts that you’re only here now because Waylen dragged you here by the scruff of your neck. Am I right?”
The guilt sits heavy in my chest. She’s right. I’ve been hiding from everyone who reminds me of what I lost.
“This feels like an ambush,” I mutter.
“It’s called a conversation. I’m not here to judge you for dating a criminal.”
Waylen makes a noise of protest from across the kitchen, but Mom silences him with a look.
“His name is Kovan,” I say quietly. I’m not looking directly at him but I can feel Waylen’s stare burning a hole in my face. “And he’s more than just a gangster, Mom. He has a nephew he loves and is trying to get custody of. He’s an amazing uncle, a great guardian. Sure, his life is… different from mine. But he’s not all bad.”
“No one is all bad, honey.”
“I don’t know about that.” I’m thinking of Jeremy now. “Some people seem pretty damn evil to me.”
She arches her brow. “But not this man you’re involved with?”
I sigh. “No. Not him.”
“Well, when do I get to meet this man of multitudes?” she asks.
“Mom!” Waylen interjects, all puffed-up indignation. “Are you serious? I tell you she’s dating an honest-to-God, real life gangster and you ask when you can meet the man?!”
Mom twists in her seat to face Waylen. I can only see her profile but she looks something close to fierce. “You are a grown man, Waylen James. Snitching on your sister should be beneath you.”
His jaw drops. “I told you because?—”
