Page 83 of Toxic Temptation
The word feels like a bigger and more unforgivable lie every time I hear it. Which it is. But whose fault is that? Not Luka’s. Once again, the blame is mine and mine alone. I felt like he had enough lies to keep track of without adding one more to the mix. I figured, if he believed we were really a couple, that would be one less thing he’d have to stress out about.
“Girlfriends come and go, Luka. It’s not like marriage.”
“Then marry her.”
Fucking hell.“It’s not that simple.”
“I like her, Uncle Kovan.” His voice turns stubborn, protective. “She’s kind and nice and pretty.”
Kid’s got taste. Takes after his uncle.
“Those are good reasons to like someone,” I agree. “But not good enough reasons to marry them.”
“Don’t you like Vesper?”
“Of course I do.” I clench my teeth and let out a long, whistling sigh. “But Vesper isn’t part of our inner circle, okay? It’s you, me, Pavel, and Osip. That’s it. And someday, you’re going to live with me permanently.”
Usually, that promise gets me a smile. Today, he just frowns. “But what about Vesper?”
“Vesper has her own life to go back to. Like I said, don’t get attached.”
He grabs a pillow and hugs it tightly to his chest. “I miss her. I wish she was here.”
There’s nothing left for me to do but tousle his hair. It hurts too much to dwell on his words. Hurts like fucking hell, actually. Exactly like the raw, gaping wound in my heart where Vitalii once was. That’s never stopped hurting. If I fuck up Vitalii’s son, too, how much more will the new wound ache? And for how long?
An hour later, Luka is snoring softly on the pull-out couch. I pace the kitchen furiously, checking my phone every thirty seconds.
To no avail, though. It does not ring. It does not buzz. I end up falling asleep in that damned armchair, my neck screaming in protest, waiting for a phone that remains stubbornly silent.
I dream of my brother’s face.
My phone finally buzzes at 3:00 A.M. I lunge for it, but it’s not quite the message I wanted, but it could be worse, all things considered.
OSIP:The good doctor just left the hospital. Fair warning—she looks like hell.
Twenty minutes later, I hear her key in the lock. I stay perfectly still at the kitchen table, legs stretched out, waiting.
She tiptoes inside, hair pulled back in a hurried ponytail. The sight of it stirs something between my legs, but I bat that urge aside. Wrong time, wrong place. Always the wrong time with this woman.
She turns, sees me, and drops her bag with a startled gasp. “Christ! Kovan.”
Pavel wasn’t kidding: She looks wrecked. Hollow-eyed and pale, beautiful in the way only broken things can be. No, not just broken—defeated. Her eyes have sunken into her face. They look huge and haunted. The most beautiful ghost I’ve ever seen.
“Where have you been?”
Her mouth twists like she’s swallowing words she’d rather not let me hear. “At a rave. Where do you think?”
“So you were working? That’s all?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“You haven’t been avoiding me?”
“Why would I bother avoiding you?”
“Maybe because you’re angry with me.”
“Why would I be angry with you for reminding me of my place in all this?” Her stare could freeze fire. “But don’t worry; message received. It won’t happen again.”
