Page 18 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

KOVAN

I go home after my visit with Nico’s. I’m three laps into a late-night swim to cleanse my body and clear my head when Osip appears poolside, disrupting the only peace I’ve had all day.

“You got some time for me?” he asks.

“Sure, because I came out here to spend quality time with you.” I don’t bother hiding my irritation as I continue my stroke.

Osip clutches his heart. “You wound me, brother.”

“This better be good.” I haul myself out of the pool and grab a towel, already knowing from his expression that whatever he’s about to tell me will ruin what’s left of my night.

“Erm…” His usual confidence falters as he glances around the empty patio. “Okay, now I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just fucking say it, Osip.”

He takes a breath. “I’ve done some digging, and it turns out Vesper’s name has been circulating in certain circles for weeks now. Maybe longer.”

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “Her name? They have her fucking name ?”

“I’m sorry, Ko. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but?—”

I drop the towel and advance on him. “If her name is out there, that means she’s a target. A sitting duck. Anyone can make a move on her, and Ihor can claim he had nothing to do with it.”

Osip holds up his hands. “Does it really matter at this point? We both knew this was always going to happen.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t make the rage burning through my chest any easier to swallow. “Double Vesper’s security detail. I want someone watching her every second of every day. No one gets within ten feet of her without me knowing about it.”

“She’s a doctor, Kovan. That’s going to be nearly impossible to manage without?—”

“I don’t care if it’s impossible. Find a way.”

“She’ll figure it out if we do it your way.”

“I’d rather have her furious with me than dead.”

Osip shifts uncomfortably, which tells me there’s more bad news coming.

“There’s something else. I looked into what she was doing during that month you two weren’t speaking, and there are some gaps in her timeline that don’t add up.

Could be nothing. Could be innocent explanations for everything. Or…”

“Or?”

“… or someone got to her during that time.”

I freeze. The possibility that someone else has been pulling strings is so outlandish that it never even occurred to me. But what if…? Could she really have…?

“Find out everything you can. Every detail, every hour she can’t account for. There are no innocent gaps.”

Osip grins despite the tension. “That’s what she said!”

I’m about to tell him exactly where he can shove his juvenile humor when my phone vibrates. Vesper’s name appears on the screen, and Osip notices immediately.

“Speaking of the devil.”

I wave him away and he retreats into the house, finally giving me room to think.

The timing of her text feels suspicious now that I know her name is circulating among my enemies. But then again, everything is suspicious when you’re paranoid about the woman carrying your child.

VESPER : Hey, just wondering where you’re going to be in half an hour?

KOVAN : Working. Why? Is it urgent?

VESPER : Not urgent exactly. I just thought maybe we could talk, find some common ground… For the baby’s sake. That’s all.

The mention of the baby always affects me. She knows it, and I suspect she’s using it deliberately.

KOVAN : Come to my office when you’re ready. I’ll be there most of the night.

She responds with only a thumbs up emoji.

I decide to swim a few more laps before heading inside, but the peaceful meditation I was hoping for never comes. My mind keeps cycling through worst-case scenarios involving Vesper and the people who want to hurt us.

Twenty-five minutes later, I’m in my office when she appears in the doorway, knocking tentatively on the door I deliberately left open.

She stops dead when she sees me standing behind my desk, still shirtless with damp hair from the pool. “You’re busy?”

“I just finished swimming.”

Her gaze travels down to my chest, then lower to my abs. She catches herself staring and tears her attention away, a flush creeping up her neck. “I can come back after you’ve changed.”

I should take her up on the offer, but I’m enjoying her reaction too much. There’s something deeply satisfying about the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

“I’m comfortable if you are.” I study her face carefully. “Unless you’re…?”

She clears her throat and steps into the room, revealing that she’s carrying a small tray loaded with food. “No, no, of course not. I’m fine.”

She’s wearing a blue dress that skims her body without clinging, and her bare shoulders send an unwelcome surge of desire straight to my cock. Those three birthmarks on her right cheek catch the lamplight, and I have to resist the urge to cross the room and trace them with my finger.

I settle into the armchair and gesture toward the sofa. “What do you have there?”

She places the tray on the coffee table between us like it’s laden with explosives. “I brought you dinner. I made it myself.”

“You made me dinner?” I can’t hide my surprise.

She glances at the clock on my desk. “I know it’s late, but you missed dinner with Luka tonight, and Pavel mentioned you’ve barely been eating.” Again, her gaze sweeps over my torso as if she’s conducting some kind of medical examination.

“Is this a peace offering, Vesper?”

She bites her lower lip. “Maybe. I just don’t want us to be constantly fighting. Especially not when the baby arrives. We need to learn how to coexist. More importantly, we need to learn how to co-parent.”

“Hence the sandwich and chips?”

She frowns slightly. “It’s a gesture. I’m not exactly a chef.”

I take a bite, and warm, melted cheese hits my tongue. Vesper clasps her hands together with delight. “It’s actually edible?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm. You’d think she’d just successfully performed brain surgery instead of making a basic sandwich. “More than edible. It’s delicious.”

Relief spreads across her face as she sinks back into the sofa. “Thank God. Every time I’ve cooked for Waylen, I’ve sent him running to the bathroom for hours afterward.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The night’s still young.”

She giggles. When her laughter fades, though, an awkward silence fills the space between us. The only sound is my chewing.

“So,” she begins carefully, “in the interest of getting to know the father of my child better… what exactly do you do for work?”

I stop chewing and stare at her. “You’re asking me this now ?”

“It’s obvious you’re wealthy. Your family has money. I just have no idea how you actually make it.”

Something about this feels suspicious. Is she fishing for information about the Keres operation? Trying to determine if I’m still involved in organ trafficking? Or is she just actually trying to understand the man she’s having a child with?

“I make most of my legitimate income importing rare wines and fine champagnes from France. I’m also looking into developing my own brand eventually. Get more control over the entire process.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Gemstones.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“There’s a substantial market for rare stones,” I explain. “The kind you might encounter once or twice in a lifetime. Tanzanite, blue diamonds, Demantoid garnets. You’d be amazed what collectors will pay for the right piece.”

“Wow.” She seems impressed. “So that’s what your company does? Alcohol and gemstones?”

“Among other things. We have interests in various business ventures worldwide. I also maintain personal investments in restaurants, nightclubs, and other enterprises here and in Russia.”

“Do you have a plan?” she asks quietly. “For what you’ll do after you shut down the Keres operation?”

“Of course I have a plan.”

She waits expectantly, but I don’t elaborate. After a moment, she prompts, “Which is…?”

“Is this a business meeting I wasn’t informed about?” I ask. “Are you trying to pitch me an investment opportunity, or do you have some personal stake in my financial affairs?”

“I thought it would be obvious.” She breaks eye contact, staring down at her hands. “I’m carrying your son. Of course it’s personal.”

I lean forward to catch her eyes. “What exactly are you worried about, Vesper? That I won’t be able to provide for you and the baby? Because I can assure you, neither of you will ever want for anything.”

“That’s not my concern.”

“Then tell me what is.”

She hesitates, and all the calm composure she walked in with evaporates. There’s something she’s not telling me, and it’s making her nervous as hell.

“I don’t care how much money you make,” she finally says. “I care about how you make it.”

My jaw tightens. “What you’re really saying is that you still don’t trust me.”

Anger flashes across her face, but she’s fighting to control it. “I’m just returning the favor.”

What if Osip was onto something? What if Vesper really is working for Ihor? What if she’s using our connection to gather intelligence? What if everything between us has been an elaborate setup, a hoax, a fraud, a trap?

The thought makes perfect sense for approximately two seconds before I dismiss it as paranoid bullshit. The idea of Vesper collaborating with my enemies is absurd.

But as she stares me down with those ice-blue eyes, I wonder if I’m thinking with my dick instead of my brain.

She stands and collects my empty plate. “I should get to bed. It’s late.”

I’m momentarily distracted when she bends over and gives me an unintentional view of her cleavage. But not distracted enough to miss the way her gaze darts toward my desk, searching for… something.

“Goodnight, Kovan.”

As she turns to leave, her dress clings to her slightly swollen belly, and I’m reminded of how long it’s been since I touched her. Spy or not, that fact seems more important than anything else right now.

Because even if she is working for my enemies, even if she’s here to destroy me, it doesn’t change the reality that she’s carrying my child.

It doesn’t change the fact that I’d rather kill myself than hurt her.

“Vesper?”

She stops at the door, turning back to look at me over her shoulder. “Yes?”

“Is everything alright? Is there something you want to talk about?”

The quiet drags on. One second. Three. Five.

Finally, she shakes her head. “No. There’s nothing.”

But everything about her body language tells me that’s a lie.