Page 60 of Toxic Temptation
“Two acres,” I tell her. “Two pools, basketball court, tennis court, football field, track.”
She shakes her head in amazement. “No room for a Quidditch pitch, then?”
“A what?”
Her cheeks flush pink. “Sorry. Another Harry Potter reference.”
“Big fan?”
“I used to be. Back when I had time to read.” She sighs, suddenly melancholy. “My dad gave me the complete set for my eleventh birthday. Even included a fake Hogwarts acceptance letter.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You were excited about getting accepted to a fictional school?”
“It was the best day of my life, as a matter of fact.”
“Even though you couldn’t actually go?”
“That’s what imagination is for, Kovan.”
Vesper and Luka share a look and roll their eyes at me as if I’m denser than rock. Perfect. I’ve officially become the third wheel in this arrangement.
Not that I can blame the boy. He’s clearly inherited the Krayev men’s weakness for falling hard and fast for beautiful women.
“This is my classroom,” Luka announces, stopping in front of a brightly decorated door on the left.
Vesper peers through the small window. “God, it’s huge. This room is bigger than my entire apartment.”
“Want to come in and meet my teacher?” Luka asks.
Vesper turns to me, fidgeting with her dress and chewing on her lower lip in a way that’s both coy and irresistibly sexy. “Is that okay?”
“Of course. You should introduce yourself to the people in his life.” I watch her try to adjust her neckline. “They need to get used to seeing you around.”
She tugs at the fabric and frowns. “I should have worn something else. This dress is too…” She gestures helplessly at her chest. “Too much.”
“You look fine.”
“I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”
“Completely.”
“Will you come in with me?”
There’s a vulnerable note in her voice that makes me want to say yes. Actually, there’s a vulnerable note in her voice that makes me want to drag her into the janitor’s closet and show her that her white dress is not even close to enough.
But I have other business to handle.
“I need to see the dean. You can handle one schoolteacher.”
“Don’t worry, Vesper,” Luka interrupts, taking her hand. “I’ll be with you.”
I stare at their joined hands, and something ugly twists in my gut. It can’t be jealousy. There’s no way I’m jealous of an eight-year-old boy simply because he gets to hold her hand whenever he wants.
But watching them together, seeing how naturally she fits into his world, how easily he trusts her…
Fuck, maybe jealousy is the right word after all.
I force myself to walk away, down the hall to Dean Thomas’s office. He’s waiting for me outside his door in a Hermès suit and the ass-kissing smile he reserves for major donors.
