Chapter 43 She's been playing with Luka for over an hour, and I can see the exhaustion pulling at her like gravity. Her smiles have gone from genuine to something she has to manufacture. Her reactions are half a beat too slow. But she keeps going, keeps trying to make him laugh, because that's who Vesper is. She'd set herself on fire to keep everyone else warm. Waylen tried bribing Luka away with video games twenty minutes ago. I offered a museum trip this weekend. Nothing works. The kid is glued to her side, completely oblivious to the way she's wilting right in front of us. Finally, I can't let her sacrifice herself on the altar of his happiness anymore. "Luka, that's enough. Vesper's tired and you need to get to bed." "Ten more minutes!" he protests. "I gave you ten minutes ten minutes ago." "And then you lectured me about TV for eight minutes, so that doesn't count." Christ. The kid should run my negotiations. He's ruthless. "Luka, don't argue with your uncle." Vesper's voice is soft but firm. "He's right about bedtime. And TV really will rot your brain. It'll come leaking out of your ears like strawberry jelly." Normally, that would get a laugh from him. But Luka's bottom lip juts out. "But I never get to spend time with you anymore." And there it is. The guilt trip hits Vesper right in the chest. I can see it happen in real time-the way her shoulders drop, her resolve crumbles. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. How about I take a couple days off soon? We can do whatever you want." His face glows like Christmas morning. "Really?" "Really really," she says, the same call-and-response they always do. It gets cuter every time. He jumps up and runs to Waylen, suddenly energized now that he's gotten what he wanted. "Can we read a bedtime story⁠-" "Nuh-uh. Clean up the Legos first," Waylen instructs him. "This living room looks like a toy store exploded." Luka folds his hands in a shy prayer position. "Will you help me?" "If you'd gone to bed when I asked you to thirty minutes ago, I would have helped. Now, you're on your own, buddy." I have to give it to him-Waylen doesn't cave to the kid's manipulation. Maybe that's why Luka actually respects him. If only Waylen would stop looking at me like I'm going to drag his sister down into the lowest depths of hell, I might actually start to like the guy. Then again, maybe not. As Luka cleans up his destruction, I load up a plate with the roast chicken and vegetables I made earlier and walk it over to Vesper. She's curled up on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, looking like she might gratefully disappear into the cushions, never to be seen again. "Here's what's going to happen," I say before she can even muster up a word. "I'm going to tell you to eat, and you're going to say no. I'm going to say it again, Eat, and you're going to make up some bullshit lie about how you aren't hungry. And then we're going to get into an argument, and we'll both get angry, and in the end, because you're more exhausted than me, I'm going to win, but you'll be even more tired and pissed off for having done the whole song and dance. So instead of all that, I'm going to remind you that you haven't eaten all day, then I'm going to hand you this plate, sit next to you, and watch you eat every bite." Vesper watches me the whole time. When I'm finally done, she sighs. "How long have you been rehearsing that speech?" "Since I started cooking. Are you going to make me fight anyway?" She squints up at me. "It's a very weird fetish you have, you know. This whole Hansel & Gretel thing, fattening me up." "I believe that's what the kids call 'kink-shaming.'" I hand her the plate. "Now, eat. Shouldn't a doctor know better than to skip meals?" "It was a long day, okay?" She does take the plate from me, so that's something. "And how do you even know I haven't eaten?" The pieces click together, and her eyes flash with remembered anger. "Oh, right. Your spy." Luka looks up from his Lego pile. "A spy? That's so cool!" "No, it's not," Vesper snaps. "It's a violation of my privacy." "It's protection," I butt in. "And it's temporary." She turns to Waylen, looking for backup. "Are you hearing this? He's actually trying to make stalking sound reasonable." I expect Waylen to jump on the "Kovan is controlling" train. Instead, he starts picking up Legos even though he just told Luka he was on his own. "I mean, considering what's at stake here, it's not the worst idea." "Waylen!" He gives her a sheepish grin. "I'll sleep better knowing someone's watching out for you at work. That's all." Her head swivels between us. "You two are working together." "As if," Waylen and I say at the same time. "We will never work together," Waylen clarifies. "But in this case, I agree with him. You need protection. And you need to eat." Vesper shakes her head in dismay. "I don't know why I recommended you for this job." Luka's face falls. "Are you really mad at Waylen?" The guilt hits Vesper immediately. "No, honey. Not really. Now, come give me a hug and go to bed." He does, and I see a genuine smile cross her face when Luka buries his head against her chest. After Waylen takes the boy upstairs, though, that smile disappears. She spears a piece of chicken and shoves it in her mouth. I watch color flood back into her cheeks almost immediately. "Dammit," she mutters, looking down at the plate. "It's too good." "I think I figured out why you're so cranky all the time. You're just permanently hungry." "I will throw this chicken at your face." "Eat first, then throw. It'll improve your aim." She snorts. But she eats. Devours everything on the plate like she's been starving, which she almost certainly has been. The exhaustion is still there in her eyes, but at least she has some signs of life back. "It was Jeremy," she mumbles suddenly as she scrapes up the last of the carrots. "What was Jeremy?" "The tires. It was Jeremy. He's trying to scare me. Send me a message." Jeremy crossed my mind for about five seconds before I landed on a more likely suspect. Someone who deals in intimidation and mind games as a matter of course. But Vesper doesn't need more reasons to be afraid. "Whoever it was," I reassure her, "I'll handle it." "How?" I ignore the question. "You're exhausted. Time for bed." "Excuse me? I'm not an eight-year-old who-" She stops talking when I thread my fingers into her hair and start massaging her scalp. "Ugh. God, that feels good." She melts into me like ice cream in summer heat, her head sinking down toward my lap, her body going loose and pliant. I should stop. Should move her. Should maintain some distance. I do none of those things, though. I just keep working my fingers through her hair, even after she falls asleep and wouldn't notice if aliens invaded. An hour later, Vesper is snoozing softly in my lap. I'm studying the three small birthmarks on her cheek-her Orion's belt-when I sense someone watching. I look up. Waylen stands in the doorway, and his expression is hard to read. Concerned, maybe. Or suspicious. I pull my hands away. Vesper stirs, frowning, making a small sound of complaint. "Is Luka asleep?" I ask him softly. He nods. "Yeah." "Then there's no reason for you to stay, is there?" Waylen raises an eyebrow. "I can take her upstairs." I should let him. It would prove to both of us that this means nothing. That she's just a means to an end. But the thought of handing her over to anyone else-even her own brother-makes something violent rear up in my chest. "No." I stand, lifting her into my arms. "I've got it. You can see yourself out." I don't wait for his response. By the time I reach the upstairs landing, I hear the front door close. It would be so easy to take her to my room, my bed. She'd never know, and I could have her close to me all night. But she asked for her own space when we stay here. And my self-control is already hanging by a thread. I carry her to the guest room instead. Setting her down on the bed, I try not to think about how right she looks here, in my house, under my protection. I tell myself I'm being practical as I undress her. Tell myself it's for her comfort as I peel away her scrubs and drink in the floral panties, the black bra with little bows on the straps. I'm not staring at the way her body curves, the way her skin looks like silk in the moonlight-I'm simply getting her ready for bed, that's all. My hands shake as I slip one of my t-shirts over her head. White cotton, soft and worn. I want so fucking badly to see her in my clothes, to mark her as mine in this small way. When she rolls sleepily onto her side, leg hooking over a pillow, the shirt rides up and I get a glimpse of perfect skin. My body responds immediately, violently. I back out of the room before I do something we'll both regret. Pavel is waiting for me in the hallway, back from doing some follow-up on the tire-slashing incident. We walk to my office in silence, then out to the moonlit patio, where I light two cigars. "Cops took my statement," he begins. "They think it was teenagers pulling a prank." I nod in satisfaction. "Good. The sooner they think they solved it, the sooner they'll get out of our way and let me get started on the real work." "How's Vesper?" "Shaken." My jaw tightens. "She's not built for this life, Pavel. I wonder if I made the right choice." Pavel makes a sound of disagreement. "That's harsh, don't you think? She's tougher than you give her credit for. She's a doctor-she handles pressure every day." "Being a doctor is nothing compared to being involved with the Bratva." "Is this really about Vesper?" he asks. "Or are you deflecting?" "What's that supposed to mean?" "That you have feelings for her and you'll do anything but admit it." I take a long drag of my cigar. "I'm a man and she's beautiful. What's your point?" "It's more than attraction and you know it. You care about her." "Pavel-" "Just admit it, man. Enough with the bravado." I stub out my cigar. "Don't be ridiculous." "It's not a weakness if you did." "It's not an issue either way, because I don't have feelings for her." I hesitate, then add, "But if I did, it would absolutely be a weakness. Look what happened to Vitalii." Pavel's shaking his head before I even finish my sentence. "You can't compare yourself to Vitalii. And you sure as hell can't compare Vesper to Yana." I draw on the cigar again, letting the smoke burn away all my wild doubts, all the lingering what ifs that drive me crazier and crazier with every passing day. "It doesn't matter. She's a target now. She'll always be a target because she's connected to me. What happened today proves that." "A stupid prank by her boss⁠-" "It wasn't Jeremy." Pavel stops. "What do you mean?" "I know who did it," I rumble. "And he's going to answer for it." I ash out the cigar. "Tonight."