Chapter 30 I hate him on sight. The bastard looks like a Ken doll had sex with the cover model from a J. Crew catalog. All-American good looks, boring khakis, and a powder blue shirt that matches his powder blue eyes. But the most galling part of seeing the man I've secretly loathed for the fourteen or so hours since I've known about his existence is the fact that he's got his arm around Vesper. And she doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. She's leaning into him, whispering something in his ear. They both laugh, and the sound slugs me like a punch to the gut. I want to fight someone. Anyone. I need to work off this rage burning through my veins before I do something stupid. Instead, I swallow it down and walk into La Luna's, brushing past the servers without acknowledgment. Neither of them notice me approaching until I'm standing right beside their table. He's studying the menu while she pushes his hair back from his forehead like he's a child. The casual intimacy of it makes me want to break things. Scratch my first thought-the most galling part of this is not the way he touches her. It's the way she touches him. It's obvious they're close. And the fact that I don't know anything more than that is enough to drive me mad with distraction. I'd called that fucker, Osip, hours ago asking for more information on this asshole. He said he'd get back to me stat, then followed up with a vague text a few minutes ago that read only, They're closer than I thought possible. Fuck knows what that means. I'm gonna skin the bald bastard alive next time I see him. "Kovan!" Vesper looks up. "This is Waylen. Waylen, meet Kovan." Pretty Boy's smile vanishes. He stands, matching my height, chest puffed out in challenge. "Nice to meet you." His handshake is designed to send a message-firm grip, held longer than necessary. Fine. Message received. Vesper's eyes flit between us nervously. She tugs Waylen back into his seat, her hand lingering on his arm. Wrong move, sweetheart. "Vesper tells me you have a job you'd like me to consider," Waylen says cautiously. I raise an eyebrow at her. "Then she misrepresented the situation. She's the one pushing for this meeting because she was worried you couldn't find work. I agreed out of courtesy, nothing more." Vesper's mouth falls open. "That's not⁠-" "Vesper mentioned you want custody of your nephew," Waylen interrupts. "Do you really think that's wise if you don't have time for him?" "Waylen!" Vesper swats his hand. "It's a fair question," he doubles down. I meet his gaze. The guy doesn't seem at all intimidated by me. In fact, he seems pretty hell bent on disliking me. Considering I'm of the same mind, I felt myself feeling a begrudging sense of admiration for him. "No, it's okay. The fact is that, unlike some people, I have a full-time job," I say evenly. "But I still make time for Luka. What I need is someone who can care for him and teach him. He's smart but easily bored. He needs individual attention from someone who can adapt to his personality instead of forcing him to conform." Waylen's eyebrow arches, and I can see the beginnings of respect in his expression. "Ready to order?" The waitress appears, glancing between us like she senses the tension. I look at Vesper. "Let me guess. French press coffee?" She flushes, a shy smile breaking across her face. "Actually⁠-" "She'll have the affogato," Waylen cuts in, handing over his menu. "Triple shot espresso with an extra shot of caramel. And I'll take an Americano." I wait for Vesper to tell him she can order for herself. ... She doesn't. Instead, she beams at him. "You read my mind." How the fuck did I become the third wheel on a date with my own girlfriend? "And for you, sir?" The waitress turns to me. "Nothing." "You're not having anything?" Vesper frowns. "No." She fixes me with a sharp look, then smiles sweetly at the waitress. "He'll have black coffee. Maybe it'll improve his mood." The waitress hurries away, no doubt sensing the brewing storm. "Black coffee guy, huh?" Waylen attempts small talk. I ignore him and focus on Vesper. "Since when do you drink affogatos?" "Since she was a teenager," Waylen answers for her. Again, I wait for her to shut him down. Again, she doesn't. "It was always my celebration drink," she explains quietly. "High school graduation, college, getting into medical school." "Remember that chocolate affogato I made you after finals?" Waylen asks with a wry grin. "Oh, God, that was sinful. Most decadent thing I'd ever put in my mouth." "Surely there are exceptions," I murmur. Her cheeks flame red, the color spreading to her ears. She nearly knocks over the salt shaker in her flustered state. Then, forcing a smile, she delivers a swift kick to my shins under the table. "Let's focus on Luka," she suggests quickly. "You had questions, Waylen?" "Yeah," he says. "I do." For the next twenty minutes, he grills me. About Luka's needs, his personality, his trauma. And despite my irritation, I realize this asshole might actually know what he's doing. "I believe in learning through play," Waylen explains. "Field trips, outdoor activities, hands-on experiences." "Any excursions need my approval." "He's a child," he counters. "Children need freedom." "This child needs protection." "That might do more harm than good." "You haven't even met him. How could you know what's best?" "Because Vesper tells me everything. She's noticed things about the boy." My grip tightens on my fork. It's tempting to put it to use on his smug face. "Funny. When does Vesper have time to tell you anything? She's either working or with Luka and me." He bobs a shoulder. "Vesper always makes time for people who matter to her." "Okay, enough." Vesper holds up her hands. "Easy with the gorilla chest pounding, you two, yeah? We all want what's best for Luka. Kovan, Waylen is an incredible teacher. Luka would be lucky to have him." She turns to Waylen. "And Way, Kovan is an amazing uncle who doesn't deserve your scorn." Waylen doesn't look convinced, but he shrugs again. "If Vesper vouches for you, and you're offering the job, I'm in. Not for your sake, though. For the boy's. For hers. Not for you." Vesper stares at me with pleading eyes. She wants this more than he does. "If I hire you," I grit out, "you'll undergo security training. I need to know you can protect Luka." "If it's necessary, then of course I agree." He blinks, unfazed. "So be it." I slap the contract on the table. "Preliminary agreement and NDA. Sign it." Waylen picks up the papers and stands, unhurried, unbothered. "I'll take my coffee to go so I can look through these." He kisses the top of Vesper's head, and I have to grip my chair to keep from lunging at him. "Talk later?" "Of course." The moment he's gone, she explodes. "For fuck's sake, did you have to be so confrontational? You practically raised a leg and pissed to mark your territory." "I wasn't far from it," I growl. "How do you know him?" "Unbelievable." She starts to tell me, then stops and shakes her head. "Actually, aren't you the big, bad mob boss who knows everything about everyone? Go figure it out yourself, asshole." With that, she's gone, leaving me alone at the table with nothing but my thoughts and the stained remnants of an affogato cup. One of these days, I'm going to snap. And when I do, one of two things will happen. Either I'll break her. Or I'll claim her. I can't wait to find out which.