Chapter 28 "Where the fuck is she?" I bellow. "Who?" Osip's nasally voice grates against my nerves like sandpaper. "Don't play stupid with me." I slam my fist against the kitchen counter. "Vesper. It's been three days, Osip. Three goddamn days without coming home." "She's been pulling doubles at the hospital," he says with a shrug. "I told you⁠-" "She has to sleep sometime, doesn't she?" "Sure," he agrees, "but they have rooms for that. If you want, I can check which call room she's hunkered⁠-" The fucking travesty of having to go to Osip just to check where my own damn girlfriend is. Fake girlfriend, I correct myself quickly. "No," I snap. "I don't actually care where she is. But I do need to set her straight about some of the rules of this little arrangement of ours." "Uh... right." Osip blinks slowly. "Have you tried calling her?" Sometimes, I wonder what sins I committed in a past life to deserve Osip Pikalov in this one. I want to put my fist through the wall. Either that or his bald skull. "Brilliant fucking suggestion," I spit. "What would I do without your genius?" "Damn, this girl has really got your panties in a twist, huh?" I hang up before I give him an official order to take a long walk off a short cliff. Thankfully, Luka walks out of the bathroom a second later, so I'm forced back into an appearance of calm. But my hard-won composure is pushed to the brink at Luka's first question. "Where's Vesper?" I turn to look at him. He's standing in the bathroom doorway, hair still damp, looking smaller and thinner than usual. "Working," I growl. His eyes go wide, and I make myself breathe and choose a more appropriate tone of voice. "She'll be back tonight." I think. "She's been working a lot." He slouches onto the couch, shoulders caved inward. "We barely see her anymore." "I know, kid." He stares at the empty space where a TV should be. "Do you think she's mad at me?" Everything inside me goes still. "What makes you think that?" "I didn't want to watch the movie with her that night. I was mean." His voice cracks. "I didn't even say goodnight." "Luka-" "She probably hates me now." I cringe in a way that hurts both physically and spiritually. This kid carries guilt like it's his job. It's not, though. It's mine. I'm the one who upset her with my foul temper and my sharp tongue. By the time I'd woken up the next morning with an apology on my lips, she was gone. Which, to be fair, I hadn't thought twice about. She's a doctor, after all. But when my calls were ignored and my texts went unanswered, it started to hit home. I might've pushed too hard. "She doesn't hate you." I sit beside him, my voice gentler than it's been in days. "That's not why she's staying away." That's on me. My mistakes. My rough edges. He doesn't say anything, so I try a different tactic. Start peeling the Band-Aid away now, before it's too late. "Listen, Luka, I know you like Vesper⁠-" "She's really cool." Christ. This is going nowhere good. "Right. But it's probably best if you don't get too attached to her." Confusion clouds his features. "But she's your girlfriend." 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." That should satisfy me. Instead, it makes me want to punch something. I don't know what I want from her; I just know it's not this. She moves toward the bedroom, giving me a wide berth, but I step into her path. I didn't stay awake until three in the morning for a half-assed conversation. "Move, Kovan. I'm not in the mood." Her stomach growls, loud in the silence. Her cheeks flush pink. "Let me guess," I say. "You survived on coffee again." "None of your business." I stalk past her into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, I'm back in the bedroom with a plate of steaming udon noodles drowning in peanut sauce and vegetables. She's sitting up in bed wearing those midnight blue pajamas that have starred in every fantasy I've had for the past three days and nights. "Here." I shove the plate into her hands before she can refuse. "Eat." She stares at the food, steam rising around her face. Then her eyes move to mine. "And before you ask," I add, "no, it's not poisoned." Her eyes flash. "That makes me feel so much better." "Save the attitude until after you eat." I can see the war playing out on her face. Pride versus hunger. Hunger wins. "You didn't have to do this," she says. "I know. But I did it anyway." She loads up her fork and takes a bite. I watch her lips close around the fork and feel, for the first time in my life, jealous of the cutlery. "God, I hate how good you are at cooking," she mumbles through a full mouth. "Where did you learn to do this?" "Summers in Russia with my brothers," I reply, glancing away to focus my attention on a bare patch of wall. "We'd go to a mountain cabin in Siberia for weeks, just the three of us. No grocery stores, no modern appliances. We cooked what we caught." "Sounds idyllic. My summers were spent in cadaver labs." She takes another bite. "Instead of pots and pans, I had scalpels and forceps." "And that was fun for you?" She takes another mouthful of noodles. "I was with my father," she says simply. As if that's all the explanation that's required. We're silent for a moment. For some reason, it makes me itch. I've never been one to fuss in long silences, but this one folds back in on itself, wraps around my throat, strangles me, bothers me. "Luka misses you," I say when I can't stand it anymore. Vesper flinches, staring down at her plate. "He was asking about you tonight. He thinks you're mad at him." "What?" Her eyes snap to mine. "Why would he think that?" "Because he's a sensitive kid who's been trained to think everything that goes wrong is his fault, thanks to a mother who punishes him with absence and neglect." "That's not what I'm doing!" Fire blazes in her voice. "Did you tell him that?" "I tried. Not sure he believed me." Her fork clatters against the plate. She abandons it on the nightstand. "It wasn't my choice to work back-to-back shifts. It's Jeremy's way of punishing me." "He's the reason you've been MIA?" "Who else?" She pushes back her hair. "Though it suited me fine, considering what happened last time we tried talking." Time for an apology. The words stick in my throat, though. Stubborn, always stubborn. It's my stubbornness that'll be the death of me. But I wasn't wrong for putting her in her place. She needed a reminder of what we really are. Not one big happy family. Just pieces in a game, all of us. "About that⁠-" "You were being an asshole." "I'll give you that," I concede. "But⁠-" "You took your bad mood out on me, and I don't deserve that." I sigh. "Do I get to talk now?" She crosses her arms. "Fine. Go ahead." "Luka's been through hell. I don't want him getting attached to you when we both know how this ends." Genuine confusion crosses her face. "How does it end?" "We're not really together," I remind her. "Once I get custody, you and I aren't riding off into the sunset. We go our separate ways. We can handle that; we're adults; we signed a deal. But Luka's different. He's lost too much already. I don't want him to keep on losing. So I think it would be easier for him to leave you behind if he didn't start seeing you as a mother figure in the first place." She arches a skeptical brow. "Moving him into my home seems counterproductive then, does it not?" "No plan is perfect. But my hands are tied." She exhales, exhaustion written in every line of her body. "What do you want from me, Kovan? Should I push him away every time he comes to me?" "No." "Then what?" "Be his companion. His friend. But never his parent. That's a line you can't cross." "It's a fine line." "Not really. I'm his parent. I do the raising. You just provide⁠-" "Background decoration?" I rub the heel of my hand into my aching eyes. "If that's how you want to put it." "Fine." She grabs her plate again, stabbing noodles with enough force to commit murder. I can tell she's imagining my face on that plate. "But I have one condition." It's strange to be faced with a woman who would think to give me conditions at all. Most women just offer me whatever I want. Usually, all it takes is a smile here, a compliment there, and they're putty in my hands. Mine to do with as I please. Not anymore. Not with this one, at least. "I'm not always going to get it right," she continues. "I'll make mistakes with your boundaries. When that happens, just talk to me. No screaming. No snide comments." I hesitate for just a moment before I give her the only possible answer. "I can do that." She nods and goes back to eating her noodles. When she glances up, there's something different in her eyes. "You look like shit, you know." I laugh. "That's rich, coming from you. You look like you were the one on the operating table today." She scowls. "I'm running on two hours of choppy sleep. Jeremy thinks if he works me to the bone, I'll start making mistakes and he can fire me for them." "Smart strategy." "Not with me." Venom laces her voice. "I used to spend hours in the library studying medical journals, then show up for my internship the next morning. I can function on no sleep and still concentrate. If he thinks he can break me, he's fucking wrong. He's so fucking wrong." Admiration and lust hit me in equal measure. My cock stands at attention, ever appreciative of a strong woman who doesn't back down. It doesn't help that her top has slipped lower, giving me a glimpse of the upper curves of her breasts. Any woman who wears scrubs is wasted potential, but especially this one. She belongs on a stage, on the cover of a magazine. On my arm. In my bed. "I wouldn't bet against you," I say in a quiet rasp. That almost gets me a smile. Almost. She sets the plate aside. "Thank you. That was delicious." "I'm happy to be your personal chef as long as we're living here." She squirms, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "You're ducking the question, though. I know why I look like shit. Why do you?" I'll be damned before I admit she's the reason I haven't slept. It's not that I missed her. It's merely practical concern. How can we maintain this charade if we're constantly at each other's throats? That's all. "I love Luka, but having him with me these past few days has wreaked havoc on my schedule." Not a complete lie. "I thought he had a nanny." "She quit last week. I need someone new. Someone who hasn't been terrorized by the she-devil Luka calls a mother." Vesper straightens. "Actually, I might have a candidate." "No." Her face falls. "Why the hell not? This man will pass any background check you throw at him." "'He'?" My blood pressure spikes. "Yes, he's a he. Do you have a problem with that?" "Only that I don't know him from fucking Adam." She rolls her eyes. "Then test him. Do your background checks. Vet him. Interview him. This guy is above board. He's also great with kids." "What's his background?" "He's a qualified teacher. Just left his position⁠-" "Why?" She throws up her hands. "I don't know the details of it. Internal politics, basically-plus, being a teacher is the most thankless job in the world. And he doesn't like drama. He's considering tutoring, and I think this could be a perfect change of pace. Luka will love him, I promise." My jaw clenches. "You're really going to bat for this mudak." "There are only two people in this world I'd vouch for completely," she says. "Waylen is one of them." I'm about to ask what her relationship to him is, but I stop myself. It doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. And if he's an ex-lover, I don't want to know. "Do you trust him?" She doesn't hesitate. "With my life." I've never wanted to kill a man I've never met more than I do right now. But I force a smile, if only for the sake of keeping this fragile peace between us. "Alright then. Give him a call."