Chapter 16 The vodka I drank after I got home last night lingers like stubborn acid in my stomach. But it's nothing compared to the way Osip and Pavel keep shooting glances at each other across my home gym. They think they're being subtle. They're not. I grab a set of hundred-pound dumbbells and focus on my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, trying to ignore the way my head pounds with each rep. Three cups of black coffee haven't done shit to kill this hangover. The hangover isn't even the worst part. The worst part is that I can still smell her perfume on my shirt from last night. Vanilla-sweet, innocent-but with an irresistible undertone of something decadently floral that made me want to bury my face in between her thighs and forget every reason why that's a terrible idea. "Pav," says Osip, "come and spot me real quick." They move to the bench press, voices dropping to whispers the second they think I can't hear them. Pavel leans over Osip, their heads bent together like schoolgirls sharing secrets. I drop my dumbbells to the floor with a boom like thunder. "If you two have something to say, just fucking say it." Osip loses his grip on the barbell. Pavel helps him rack the weight, and they both turn to face me with matching guilty expressions. "Someone's cranky," Pavel observes. "I'm not cranky." I'm lying through my teeth. I am cranky. I'm cranky because I spent half the night hard as a rock, thinking about how fucking edible Vesper looked lying on the planetarium floor, the scooped neckline of her shirt fluttering in the breeze of the air conditioning. A glimpse of chest, here and then gone again. I'm cranky because I drank an entire bottle of vodka trying to forget about her, and it didn't work. If anything, it only made shit worse. "We can see your face and it argues otherwise," Osip says, still grinning like an idiot. They exchange another look. Pavel at least has the decency to look uncomfortable. Osip just grins wider. "We wanted to hear about your date last night," Osip admits at last. "Who told you it was a date?" "So it was a date?" Pavel's eyes go wide. "No, it wasn't a fucking date. Are you high?" Pavel deflates. "See? I told you he wouldn't⁠-" "He's lying," Osip interrupts. "What other reason would he have for taking some random woman to the planetarium? With Luka? God's perfect wingman?" "Good point," Pavel admits, perking up again. "I'm about to use those kettlebells to beat you both to death if you keep talking about me like I'm not standing right here." "We wouldn't have to if you'd just tell us what's going on," Osip argues. "We're supposed to be your right-hand men. How come Arseni and Dima know more than we do?" My jaw tightens. "They're spreading rumors?" "They're not rumors if they're true," Osip says. "And it wasn't just them." Pavel steps between us before I can grab the nearest weight and throw it at Osip's head. "The point is, everyone's talking about you and Vesper. So spill." "There's nothing to spill. It's an act. A show." I sneer. "Did you really think I'd waste time on a woman without an ulterior motive?" "I figured getting in her scrubs was the ulterior motive," Osip says. "She's hot." "Real hot," agrees Pavel. "Smoking." "Scorching." "Electric." "Ravishing." They'll keep going all day if I don't stop them, so I interrupt, "Can you two act your age for five fucking seconds?" Both of them look at me, wild grins smeared across their faces. "Point is," Osip says, "she's a catch and she's just your type." "I don't have a type. And I'm not interested in a real relationship with her. She's a means to an end." "Which is?" Pavel asks. "Getting custody of Luka." That gets their attention. Osip's hand drops, and they both stare at me. "You can't get custody of Luka," Pavel says slowly. "He has a mother." "A mother who doesn't give a shit about him. Yana would rather spoon-feed him to that animal she married than actually be his parent." "That doesn't matter," Osip says. "Courts almost never take kids away from biological parents to place them with relatives. Trust me, I know. My grandmother tried for years to get me away from my pops." "Your grandmother was seventy years old with no income. I'm not." "How are you more suitable?" Pavel asks. "You're a bachelor with a criminal record and-" He stops, understanding dawning on his face. "Oh. Oh. That's where she comes in. You're going to pretend to be the perfect couple." I sit down on the bench. "Exactly." "Did you talk to Delgado about this?" Osip asks. "Of course. He thinks it could work, but the performance has to be convincing." "And she agreed to play along?" Pavel looks skeptical. "As of last night, she did." "What's she getting out of it?" Osip wants to know. "You did the background check. You tell me." Osip snaps his fingers. "The hospital board complaints. You're going to take them down." "Every last one of them," I confirm. But there's more to it than that. St. Raphael's is connected to the Keres." Pavel's expression darkens. "Are you sure you want to take this on right now? The Keres are already pissed about your cancellation of the organ trade. If they find out you're going after their people at the hospital⁠-" "I don't give a fuck what they want. Vesper doesn't know how deep this goes, but as long as she works there, she's in danger. And she's working for people who are hurting kids. She wouldn't be okay with that if she knew." Pavel's face softens into a knowing smile. "You actually like her, don't you?" "Don't be ridiculous. I respect her work ethic. That's different." Pavel's expression turns serious again. "But really, have you thought this through? Can you trust her? She's a complete stranger." "She saved Luka's life without hesitation. She would have done anything to help him." "That doesn't mean she won't screw you over when things get complicated," Osip points out. I can only laugh. "She won't." But even as I say it, doubt creeps in. They're right about one thing: I barely know her. What if she changes her mind? What if she decides Luka would be better off with his mother? What if she decides I'm not worth the risk? "You're going to make her sign something, right?" Osip asks. "Of course." The lie comes easily, but it sits wrong in my chest. Because the truth is, I don't want to force Vesper into anything. I want her to choose this. Choose me. And if she doesn't... Well, there's more than one way of getting what I want.