Page 74 of Toxic Temptation
I avoid looking at him as I walk to my bed, grateful he took the chair.
But I’m also fighting guilt over my petty victory. We’re both adults. What would be the harm in sharing a bed? Nothing has to happen.
Even as I think that, though, the idea of sharing a bed with Kovan and havingnothinghappen fills me with bitter disappointment.
I sink into bed and pull the sheets to my chest.
“Should I turn off the light?” rumbles Kovan without opening his eyes.
Despite my better judgment, I look at him. He makes my ratty armchair look good, but he’s too big for it. I have no idea how he’ll manage a full night. Not comfortably, that’s for sure.
Not your problem, girl. Ignore him. Forget him. Stay away from him.
Except guilt keeps rising in my chest.
He must take my silence for a yes, because with the flip of a switch, darkness engulfs us. But the curtains are still open and the street lights shine into the room. Kovan’s body glows ethereal white. His face is steeped in shadows, though.
I make myself stare at the ceiling instead of him. I wonder if he can hear my heart galloping away.
“What happened today?”
His voice in the darkness takes on new layers and textures. It’s quieter, less threatening, but all the more dangerous for how trustworthy it seems.
“Just a bad day,” I whisper up toward the nothingness above me. “I had to give a bad diagnosis. Then faulty equipment nearly screwed me over in surgery. And I ran into Jeremy in the hallway. I didn’t do myself any favors with how I talked to him.” I sigh, but it barely helps my strained lungs. “He’s gonna be hunting for reasons to fire me now.”
“He’s not a problem you’ll deal with much longer.”
I feel my resolve softening as I roll over onto my side to face Kovan. “Do you really think you can get him off the board?”
“I can do that and more.”
I don’t bother asking what the “and more” might possibly mean. It will be enough to know that Jeremy’s not calling the shots at St. Raphael’s anymore. If he’s also wearing cement shoes at the bottom of the Bay… Well, as long as I don’t know about it, that’s not my problem.
“He was one of my father’s residents, you know,” I say. “He studied under Dad for years before becoming an attending himself. There was a time I actually liked the asshole, if you can believe that.”
“People change when money gets involved. The more money, the faster the change.”
“Is it worth selling your soul for?”
Kovan shrugs. “It’s easier if you don’t believe in souls. Or any of the baggage they come with: afterlives, heavens, hells. If the only world you believe in is this one, it’s easier to live without fear of consequences.”
I prop myself up on an elbow. “Deep. Who said that? Rumi? Gandhi?”
“Vitalii Krayev.” Kovan chuckles, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “My brother.”
“Oh. Right.” I give up all remaining pretense and sit up, letting the sheet fall from my chest. “He believed in the stars.”
Kovan snorts. “The stars. The fucking stars. Jesus.”
“What’s funny about that?”
“It’s ridiculous, that’s what’s funny. My big brother,pakhanof the Krayev Bratva, shrewd businessman, was into fuckingastrology. He poured over star charts. Knew everything aboutevery sign. Believed our lives, our futures, were written in the heavens above. Fool. Absolute damn fool.”
“I’m guessing you don’t agree?”
“I don’t believe in anything but myself.” His voice turns hard. “Nothing’s written in the stars. Nothing’s written anywhere unless you write it down your damn self. Life is what you make of it. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
His words echo in my chest, filling me with heat and shivers alike.
