Page 180 of Toxic Temptation
“It’s worth more than that. Like… significantly more.”
The phone nearly slips from my suddenly sweaty palm. “How much more?”
“Don’t freak out. Promise you won’t freak out? Pinky swear?”
My words come out in a clenched-teeth growl. “How. Much. More?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
I sink onto my bed. “Ten thousand— Charity, you told the salesgirl to lie to me!”
“Yes, but hear me out?—”
“You made her an accessory to fraud!”
“The dress is perfect for you, Ves. It brings out your eyes. It makes your skin glow. And Kovan paid for it, which means he wants you to look exactly this gorgeous tonight.”
I bury my face in my free hand. Ten thousand dollars. On a dress I’ll wear once. A dress that makes me look like I should be draped and gyrating over the hood of a sports car in an MTV music video instead of performing surgery on children.
But when I look in the mirror again, I have to admit Charity isn’t wrong. The emerald silkdoesmake my eyes look bluer. The cutdoesaccentuate my waist anddoesmake my legs look endless. For all its scandalous neckline, the dress somehow manages to be classy instead of cheap.
I just don’t know if I’m brave enough to pull it off.
“Put your game face on and go get your man,” Charity says. “Ciao ciao!” Then she hangs up before I can argue, probably because she knows I hate when she does that.
I stare at the phone, then at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looks confident. Sophisticated. Like she actually belongs on the arm of a man who commands rooms and stops conversations.
Like she really, truly belongs with Kovan Krayev.
Is such a thing even possible?
I slip on my black heels and head for the door before I lose my nerve.
The staircase curves down from the second floor, offering a perfect view of the living room below. I make it halfway down before I hear it: a sharp intake of breath.
I look down to find an audience. Osip stands by the fireplace, Pavel leans against the wall, and Waylen hovers near the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. Luka sits on the couch, his legs swinging.
And then there’s Kovan.
Kovan stands in the center of it all, dressed in a navy tuxedo that fits him like he invented the entire concept of formalwear. His hair is styled back from his face, and his shirt is open at thecollar, revealing just enough of his inked, scarred chest to make my mouth go dry.
It was him who sucked in when I appeared. He’s staring at me like I’m the answer to a question he’s been asking his entire life.
“Wow!” Luka scrambles to his feet. “Vesper, you look like a princess!”
“A princess showing way too much skin,” Waylen mutters.
Osip elbows him in the ribs. “Don’t be an ass. She looks incredible.”
“Everyone.” Kovan’s voice carves through the chatter like a blade. “Do me a favor and shut up.”
The room falls silent.
I stand frozen on the stairs while Kovan looks up at me. The air between us crackles. My doubts about the dress evaporate under the heat of his gaze.
If I can make him look at me like that, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, then every penny of those ten thousand dollars was worth it.
Kovan gestures for me to continue down. My heels sound out against the hardwood as I descend, hyperaware of every eye tracking my movement. By the time I reach the bottom, my cheeks are on fire.
