Page 76 of Toxic Temptation (Krayev Bratva #1)

KOVAN

“Your court date’s been moved.”

My lawyer, Derek Augustine, leans back in his leather chair and flashes me a smile filled with Crest-commercial teeth. I assume it’s meant to be reassuring, but I’m busy wondering how much those veneers cost—because I’m two seconds from cracking every single one.

“What the fuck do you mean, moved?” I spit.

“No need to worry, Mr. Krayev; this is normal. Court dates shift all the time. Judge’s call, lawyers’ call?—”

“We didn’t ask for a postponement,” I interrupt. “Which means their side did.”

“Bingo.” Derek adjusts his Armani tie, completely unaware that I’m imagining wrapping it around his throat like a noose. “They’re buying time. Standard legal strategy.”

I chose this oily mudak of an attorney because he has a perfect track record. Custody cases, high-profile divorces, alimony battles—the man hasn’t lost once in fifteen years. His success rate is the only reason I’m sitting in this pretentious office instead of handling Yana and Ihor my way.

Which would involve significantly less paperwork and a lot more blood.

But trusting him is not the same as hiring him. Not even fucking close. I’ve got two of my men shadowing him day and night, just in case. I’m not leaving Luka’s future to chance.

“How long can they drag this out?”

“Not indefinitely. The judge won’t allow endless delays.” Derek leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “They’ve requested two weeks. That actually works in our favor—gives us more time to solidify your case.”

“My case is already solid.”

“Is it?” Derek’s eyebrows arch. “Because opposing counsel is going to attack the weakest point in your armor. I think we all know what that is.”

I know where this is going, but I let him say it anyway.

“Your relationship with Dr. Fairfax.”

I clench my teeth. “What about it?”

His brows go up. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Mr. Krayev.

I play devil’s advocate for a living. Literally.

” He scoots his chair in and gives me a serious look.

“Here’s what’s going to happen: They’re going to claim it’s fake.

A bullshit PR stunt, just a cynical, calculated scam to make you appear more stable for the custody evaluation.

Lucky for you, I’ve been anticipating this exact scenario since the day you walked into my office. ”

My hands tighten on my lap. “What exactly are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything; I’m stating facts.

” Derek opens a manila folder and spreads photos across his desk.

Pictures of me and Vesper at the medical gala, at Luka’s school, walking through Golden Gate Park.

“The story for the jury is simple: Dr. Fairfax treated your nephew; you developed feelings for her during one of those visits. Love at first sight, that’s all.

Tale as old as time. So you asked her out—but you kept the relationship private initially, because you didn’t want Luka getting attached too quickly.

That’s just the kind of father figure you are. Sober, responsible, thoughtful.”

He slides another photo toward me—Vesper and me, each of us holding one of Luka’s hands, laughing while we swing him between us.

“Once you were sure this thing was serious, you finally introduced her to your nephew. A natural progression that any judge will find believable.”

I don’t like his smug attitude. “You think this is all an act.”

“Who, me?” Derek’s grin widens. “I think you’re a very smart man who understands what’s at stake. Getting yourself a serious girlfriend right before a custody battle? Well-played, sir.”

The urge to reach across the desk and break his nose remains damn near overwhelming. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh, no doubt. I often am.” His tone suggests he doesn’t think he’s even a little bit off the mark.

“But even if the relationship is genuine, we need to prepare for their attacks, because they sure as hell don’t buy it.

They’ll try to paint Dr. Fairfax as unstable, unsuitable, dangerous for a child to be around. ”

“She’s a pediatric surgeon who saves children’s lives for a living.”

“She’s also been suspended from surgery pending an investigation into professional misconduct.”

That stops me cold. “What?”

Derek’s face remains carefully calm. “You didn’t know? The complaint was filed this morning. An anonymous allegation that she’s been trading sexual favors for hospital donations.”

My vision goes red around the edges. “Who filed it?”

“Anonymous means anonymous, Mr. Krayev. But the timing is rather convenient, don’t you think? Coming right after your very generous donation to the pediatric wing?”

“Anonymous” in this case can only mean Ihor. That fucking snake was at the hospital today, almost certainly coordinating this exact attack with Jeremy Fleming. While I was playing house with Vesper and Luka, my enemies were plotting to destroy everything.

“This changes nothing,” Derek continues. “In fact, it might work in our favor. It shows that opposing counsel is desperate, willing to make nasty, false accusations. The judge won’t appreciate that.”

Nor will I. But?—

Breathe, Kovan.

Inhale. Exhale. Focus. Plan.

I open my eyes. “What if the investigation finds something?”

Derek shrugs. “Then we deal with it. But I’ve had my people look into Dr. Fairfax’s background.

The woman is practically a saint. Never so much as a parking ticket.

” He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Speaking of the relationship, though —any chance of a ring in the near future? Because an engagement would essentially guarantee custody in your favor.”

A ring.

Marriage.

Six months ago, the mere idea would have had me reaching for my gun to blast a hole in whoever was dumb enough to suggest it. But sitting here, thinking about Vesper, the idea doesn’t feel like a death sentence.

It feels like fucking tangible.

I can picture it—Vesper in a white dress, tears in her eyes as I slide a diamond onto her finger. Luka as our ringbearer, grinning like Christmas morning. A real family. A real future.

The fantasy is so vivid it takes my breath away.

“We’re done here.” I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the hardwood floor.

“Mr. Krayev, we should discuss?—”

“I said we’re done.”

I’m out the door before Derek can finish his sentence, leaving him sitting behind his expensive desk with his expensive smile and his expensive advice that’s worth exactly nothing.

Because he’s wrong about one thing.

My relationship with Vesper isn’t PR. It’s not a calculated stunt or a convenient lie.

It’s the only real thing in my life.

And I’ll burn the whole world down before I let anyone take it away from me.

“Ihor was at the hospital today.” I collapse onto the leather couch in my home office, exhaustion settling into my bones. The meeting with Derek left me feeling like I’d been through a blender, and the day isn’t even close to over.

Osip looks up. “You saw him?”

“Vesper did.”

The can of beer in Osip’s hand slips, foam spraying across his shirt as he catches it. “Fuck. Did she ask questions?”

I drag my hands down my face, feeling every one of my thirty-five years. “Of course she asked questions. She’s not stupid. She knows something’s wrong.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. Told her I’d handle it and to stay out of it.”

Osip sets down his beer and turns to face me fully. “And she bought that?”

“For now.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, where a headache is building like a thunderstorm. “But she’s going to figure it out eventually. Vesper’s too smart, too curious. She’ll keep digging until she finds the truth.”

“Maybe she doesn’t have to find anything.”

I look at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m saying maybe the truth stays buried. You’re shutting down the organ trade, right? Moving the organization in a different direction. What Vesper doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

“But what if it’s too late?” I muse out loud. “What if I didn’t shut it down fast enough? Do you have any idea how many people we hurt while I was busy butting heads with Ihor?”

“Kovan—”

“How many patients are walking around right now with missing organs they don’t even know about? How many people died on operating tables while their kidneys were being harvested for the black market?” I surge to my feet, pacing to the window that overlooks the garden.

“You can’t blame yourself for your father’s decisions,” Osip protests. “Or for Vitalii’s.”

“I can blame myself for not stopping it the second I took over.” I tap my knuckles against the window frame. “Every day I waited, every compromise I made with Ihor—people suffered because of it.”

“So what’s the plan?”

I turn back to face him. “We move fast. Cut off the snake at the head and tear down the entire network before Ihor can rebuild it.”

“That’s going to be messy, Ko. Are you sure we want to start a war right before the custody hearing?”

He’s right, of course. Any hint of violence, any suggestion that Luka might be in danger, and the judge will place him right back with Yana faster than I can blink.

“So then I’m trapped.” Even saying that out loud disgusts me. “If I move against Ihor now, I risk losing Luka. If I wait, the organ trade continues under my nose and more innocent people die.”

“There’s always a third option.”

“Is there? Because from where I’m standing, every choice leads to disaster.”

Osip stands, moving to the mini-bar in the corner of the office. He pours two glasses of whiskey, neat, and hands one to me. “What if we could take down the operation without it leading back to you?”

“Impossible. Ihor knows I’m behind any move against him.”

“Not if someone else makes the move.”

I take a sip of the whiskey, letting it burn away some of the frustration. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I know some people who owe me favors. People with no connection to the Bratva, no reason for Ihor to suspect you’re involved.”

It’s not a terrible idea. Osip has contacts throughout the city—former military, freelance operators, men who work for cash and ask no questions.

“It would have to be perfect. One mistake and?—”

“And Luka goes back to Yana. I know.” Osip nods, solemn and understanding. “But this might be our only shot at having everything. Getting custody of Luka and stopping the organ trade.”

“What about Vesper?”

“What about her?”

I set down my glass and meet his eyes. “She can’t know. About any of it. The organ trade, our plans to stop it, the fact that I ever allowed it to continue.”

“You think she’d judge you?”

“I think she’d leave.”

If she found out, the truth wouldn’t just hurt her—it would kill her. If she caught even a glimpse of the kind of depraved filth I let continue under my watch, she’d be gone forever.

I drag my eyes up to Osip. “She’d never forgive me.”

He nods slowly. “Then she doesn’t find out.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“I can guarantee that I’ll do everything in my power to keep her in the dark. But Kovan—secrets have a way of coming out. Especially in families.”

I think about that word for a while, twisting it around and around in my head. Family. I think of all the things it once meant. All the things it might still mean, if we can find our way out of this bottomless pit.

“She stays protected,” I say finally. “Whatever we do, however we handle Ihor, Vesper doesn’t get dragged into it. She stays in the dark.”

He nods and salutes. “Understood.”

I walk back to the window. The lawn’s been cut. Perfect, neat lines, clean and pure, like they belong to someone else’s life.

Maybe Osip’s right. Maybe secrets are the only way to protect the people we love.

But as I stand there, watching the shadows lengthen across the trimmed grass, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.

Because in my experience, secrets don’t stay buried—they explode.

And when they do, they destroy everything in their path.