Page 54 of Toxic Temptation
“I have to go,” I tell Charity, already standing.
She doesn’t even argue. She knows me better than that. “Be careful, Ves. Please.”
“I will.”
But as I grab my keys and rush out the door, I know I’m lying to both of us. There’s nothing careful about what I’m doing.
There’s only Kovan, and Luka, and the growing certainty that I’m in way over my head.
VESPER:Be there soon.
19
VESPER
“It’s a game, Vesper. Uncle Kovan says it’s a game of pretend.”
I meet Kovan’s eyes over Luka’s head. The weight of what we’re asking this child to do is like a giant palm, pressing me down into the crust of the earth, smushing me flat and lifeless.
A game.That’s what Kovan wants me to call this whole, messy charade.
But I’ve seen enough broken children to know that these games aren’t always fun.
I kneel in front of Luka, my hands resting gently on his knees. “How do you feel about this game, sweetheart?”
His face scrunches in confusion. “I… I like games. I think.”
I don’t look at Kovan. Can’t. Not when I’m about to ask his nephew to choose between the people who are supposed to love him most. “But this game means you might live away from your mother. Maybe for a long time. Maybe permanently.”
Luka’s eyes dart to his uncle, panic flickering across his young features.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, drawing his attention back to me. “You can tell me the truth. I only want to help you. I just want to make sure you live with the person you want to live with.”
Kovan moves away from us, his footsteps retreating until I can’t feel his presence anymore. Smart man. This conversation needs to happen without his shadow looming over it.
“I… I love my mama,” Luka says quietly, his voice small and careful. “But sometimes…” His bottom lip trembles as he falls silent for a moment. When he speaks again, it’s barely audible. “Sometimes, I don’t like her very much.”
I feel a sharp pain sear through my heart. Squeezing his hands, I give Luka the best smile I can muster. “That’s okay, you know. That’s normal. I used to feel the same way about my mother sometimes.”
His eyes widen. “Really? Was your mama mean to you?”
“Yes and no. She was strict sometimes. She had rules and she really, really wanted me to follow them. Like, she didn’t want me to be a doctor, for instance.”
Luka recoils, as if the mere thought of me not doing that makes no sense. I almost laugh at the purity of it. It occurs to me as a passing thought, an inconsequential thought, that I’ve never been prouder to do what I do than I am right now, when this little boy looks at me like I was meant to do it.
“But why?” he asks.
“My daddy was a doctor, too,” I explain. “And he worked really hard. He worked a lot and it didn’t leave time for him to do manyother things. I think my mother wanted me to have more of a life than he did. She wanted me to have a family one day, and she wanted me to be able to be home with them for dinner every night.”
“Oh. Okay.” He still looks unsure, though. Brows touching, forehead furrowed, gray eyes clouded and confused. “But she… She didn’t ever hurt you, right?”
I pause. My chest aches with an unnamable pain. “No. Not physically.”
“She didn’t box your ears when you cried about missing your papa?”
I grip the edges of his seat to keep myself from falling over. There’s blood thundering in my ears now. “No.”
“She didn’t lock you in the attic for two days and forget to give you dinner?”
