Page 214 of Toxic Temptation
“Don’t.”
“It’s okay to change your mind, V. It’s okay to want something normal for once. Especially with a man you love.”
“He’s not the marrying kind, Char.”
“Neither were you. Before him. And now… well, who knows?”
I fidget with the salt and pepper shakers. They’re shaped like yin and yang symbols—two curved halves that fit together perfectly despite being completely different. I used to think that’s what Kovan and I were. Now, I’m not sure if that was just wishful thinking.
Or maybe I’m just finding overwrought metaphors in the table settings.
“Even if he wanted marriage, he doesn’t want kids. He made that crystal clear.”
Charity waves dismissively. “Sometimes, men need us to show them what they really want. You just look at him with Luka and, I dunno—it’s obvious.”
“What’s obvious?”
“That he’s already a dad. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
My phone starts vibrating on the table. I squint at it—and freeze. “Oh, God, it’s Luka’s school.” I answer before the second ring. “Hello?”
“Dr. Fairfax?” The receptionist sounds crisp, professional, but I could swear there’s a mild panic underneath that facade. “We tried reaching Mr. Krayev first, but you’re listed as the secondary emergency contact, so?—”
I cut her off. “Is Luka hurt?”
“There was an… incident. He’s not injured, but?—”
“What kind of incident?” I knock over my water glass as I’m standing up, but I couldn’t care less about the puddle spreading across our table.
“We’re not entirely sure. He won’t say much. But we found him in one of the lockers.”
“He wasinsidea locker?!”
“He’s asking for his uncle. And for you. It would be best if someone could come collect him.”
Charity starts to protest, to ask what’s happening. But I’m already gone.
I find Luka sitting in the principal’s waiting area, legs swinging because his feet barely touch the floor. He’s staring out the window at the manicured grounds—tennis courts, swimming pools, all the extravagant perks of life at a private school for the one percent.
He looks completely miserable.
“Luka?”
He turns, and the relief that consumes him makes me want to weep. “Vesper.” His whole body relaxes. “Can you take me home?”
I sit beside him, careful not to crowd him. “Of course. But can we talk first?”
His heel starts tapping against the chair leg. “I want to go home,” he repeats, smaller this time.
I brush my hand over his hair. “How did you end up stuck in that locker, sweetheart?”
He flinches like I’ve hit him. His hands twist together until his knuckles go white. “I didn’t get stuck. Someone pushed me in.”
Horror slides down my spine. “What?”
“There’s this group of boys.” He won’t look at me. “They don’t really like me.”
“They put you in the locker?”
