Page 65 of Toxic Temptation (Krayev Bratva #1)

VESPER

According to the clock in the hallway, I’ve been standing outside Kovan’s office door for twelve very long minutes.

Twelve minutes of staring at mahogany wood and brass handles while my palms sweat and my heart hammers against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

This is ridiculous. I’m a pediatric surgeon. I’ve operated on premature babies whose hearts are smaller than golf balls. I’ve delivered life-or-death diagnoses to parents who looked at me like I held their entire world in my hands.

So why can’t I knock on a damn door?

I know the answer. It’s because this isn’t about medicine. If it was, this would be easy. This is about asking Kovan Krayev to be my date to the annual St. Raphael’s Fundraiser Gala, and I have never asked a man out in my entire life.

I’ve turned up solo the last seven years in a row. Just this once, I thought it might be nice to arrive with a handsome man on my arm. If only to avoid the incessant whispers that follow me around like a cloud of mosquitos.

… There’s that poor Dr. Fairfax… alone again…

… Married to her career…

… Can’t keep a man for the life of her…

My hand hovers over the door. Falls back to my side. Rises again.

Just knock, you wimp. Lift your hand and rap on the damn door. It won’t bite. It won’t ? —

Before I can lose my nerve completely, the door swings open.

Kovan fills the doorframe, all six-foot-four of him. His green eyes find mine, and one dark eyebrow arches in question.

“Vesper.”

My mouth goes dry. “Hi.”

“Were you planning to actually knock, or were you going to stand out here until I died of old age?”

Embarrassment reddens my cheeks. “How did you know I was?—”

“I could hear you pacing.” His lips twitch. “Also, Pavel texted me that you’ve been lurking in the hallway for ten minutes.”

“It hasn’t been… exactly ten minutes.” I want to disappear into the floor. “I had something to ask you.”

He steps back, holding the door wider. “Come in.”

“Actually, I’ll just ask from here. It’s not a big deal. If you’re busy or not interested, totally fine. I can manage on my own?—”

“Vesper.”

My rambling stops.

“What’s the question?”

I take a huge inhale, then start an internal countdown. Rip the Band-Aid in three, two, one,: “Willyougooutwithmetothehospitalgalatonight?”

The words tumble out in a single, breathless rush without a single pause between them. It’s nothing like the carefully rehearsed speech I practiced in front of my bathroom mirror. Not nearly as Cool Girl as I was hoping for.

Kovan blinks. Blinks again. Then: “What?”

I’m torn between a laugh and a sob, so I do a little bit of both. Then I try again, forcing myself to actually pause between each word. But because I’m horrifically nervous, the pauses are too long and the question is just as awkward as the first time around, albeit in a different way.

“Will. You. Go. Out. With. Me. Tonight?”

I sound like a robot. A robot who has never before seen or interacted with a person of the opposite sex.

Or a cyborg of the opposite sex, or whatever. I don’t know. My brain is mashed potatoes.

He goes very still. “You want me to go out with you.”

“To the St. Raphael’s Gala. It’s this fundraiser thing the hospital does every year.

Black tie. Boring speeches. Overly expensive wine.

Sometimes, we get local celebrities, but usually sort of lame ones, like the Channel 2 weather guy or whatever.

I mean, he’s nice, but—well, whatever, I’m just saying…

” I’m rambling again, but I can’t stop. “Like I said, if you’re not interested?—”

Kovan holds up a hand to shut me up. “Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Fairfax?”

The way he says it, low and rough, turns my knees into wet noodles. “I’m asking you to be my date. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?”

“Yes,” I say firmly. “One implies… implications. The other is just two people attending an event together. Key distinction, really. Very easy to overlook. But important.”

His smile spreads across his face, slow and devastating. He’s teasing me, I realize. That thought makes my insides go warm and squirmy. “And which one is this?”

I stare at him, trapped between honesty and self-preservation, wriggling like a worm on a hook. “It’s… I don’t know.”

“Then let me make this easy for you.” He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne and see the gold flecks in his green eyes. “I would be honored to be your date tonight, Vesper. The kind with implications .”

My heart stutters. “… Oh.”

“Is eight o’clock too late?”

“Eight is perfect. I need time to get ready.”

“Good.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “I’ll meet you downstairs at eight, then.”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He drops his hand and steps back into his office, but his eyes stay on mine. “Oh, and Vesper?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

The door closes with a soft click, leaving me alone in the hallway with a racing pulse and the sudden, desperate need to call Charity so I can scream, cry, laugh, and figure out what the hell I’m going to wear.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I announce the moment Charity answers her phone.

“Hello to you, too, sunshine. What’s the crisis?”

“Kovan said yes. To the gala. Tonight. And every dress I own makes me look like a nun who’s given up on life and thinks Versace sounds like the name of an STD.”

Charity’s laugh is pure delight. “Oh, this is happening. Finally. Where are you?”

“Home. Panicking.”

“Stop panicking. Start moving. Meet me at Dolce & Gabbana in twenty minutes.”

“Meet you where ? Charity, I can’t?—”

“Actually, you can.” There’s rustling on her end, like she’s digging through her purse. “Funny thing. About ten minutes ago, this gorgeous bald man showed up at my door with a shiny black Amex and very specific instructions.”

My jaw drops. “He did not.”

“Oh, he did. Kovan Krayev apparently knows you better than you know yourself.”

“I can’t use his credit card!”

“You can and you will,” she insists. “This is what men do when they care about women, Vesper. They want to spoil them. Let him spoil you. God knows you deserve it.”

“But—”

“No buts. Not a single one. We’re finding you a dress that will make that man fall to his knees. Then we’re finding lingerie to match, so that when he’s on his knees, he will at least be clear about what his job is down there.”

“Charity—!”

“Twenty minutes, Vesper. Don’t make me come drag you out of that apartment. And yes, that is a threat. Kovan isn’t the only violent one around these parts.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at my phone, torn between mortification and something that feels dangerously close to girlish excitement.

Kovan knew I’d need a dress. He planned for it. He wanted to take care of it. Of me.

Maybe Charity’s right.

Maybe it’s time to let him.