Page 50 of Toxic Temptation
“Ihor will hear about this,” she threatens.
“Tell him. I don’t give a fuck. But you know what’s going to change? Your allowance.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“You heard me. If you’ve got money to blow on drugs and weapons, you’ve got too much money.”
Her face goes white. “How did you—? That room was locked!”
“My men don’t pay attention to locks.” She lunges forward with her fist raised. Fuck only knows what she was thinking, though, because I catch her wrist effortlessly and twist until she cries out. “Stupid move.”
She tries to knee me in the balls, but the attack is so predictable I’ve already stepped out of range.
“You’re going to regret this,” she hisses.
“The only thing I regret is not convincing my brother to divorce you when he had the chance.”
“Is that really your only regret?” she mocks. “Not stopping him from marrying me in the first place?”
I shake my head. “If he hadn’t married you, Luka wouldn’t exist. And I wouldn’t trade that boy for anything. Not even the pleasure of being rid of you.”
She screams in frustration, trying to wrench free from my grip. When that doesn’t work, she starts pummeling my chest with her free hand.
“It’s easier picking on an eight-year-old, isn’t it?” I remark.
“I love my son!”
“Sure you do. Try saying it with some tears next time. Might be more convincing.”
Another scream. The woman has always been dramatic as hell. I’ve spent countless nights wondering what my brother saw in her.
“Love” never seemed like the right answer. How could you love someone with this much poison in their veins?
“You can’t cut my allowance! I need it to take care of Luka.”
“Except you don’t take care of Luka. I do.” I release her wrist and her own momentum sends her stumbling backward. “I pay his school fees. His medical bills. I buy his clothes. All you have to do is feed him three meals a day—meals that don’t include pineapple—and you can’t even manage that.”
I pull the papers from my jacket and slap them on the table between us.
“Sign those.”
She stares at the documents suspiciously. “What are they?”
“Custody papers. Temporary guardianship transfers to me.”
Her nostrils flare. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m not asking.” I set my Mont Blanc pen on top of the papers. “I came for a signature. I’m not leaving without one.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“Why are you fighting this, Yana?” I sound tired. Defeated. “Everyone with eyes knows you don’t have a single maternal instinct. Face it—the only reason you had Luka was to trap my brother.”
“That’s not true. Vitalii and I were in love.”
“Right. So in love that, a month after he died, you married another man.” I lean forward. “How about the fact that you were fucking half of San Francisco while he was still alive?”
“You can’t prove anything.”
