Page 124 of Toxic Salvation
A hand shoots up in the audience. “Dr. Fairfax, how did you manage the blood loss during the procedure? Previous attempts at this type of separation have resulted in massive hemorrhaging.”
“Excellent question. We developed a four-staged approach…”
She fields question after question with ease, never once looking uncertain or unprepared. The audience is eating it up. I can see some doctors frantically taking notes and others recording her responses on their phones.
Near the end, a young doctor in the third row raises his hand. “Dr. Fairfax, this type of surgery typically has a very high mortality rate. What made you confident you could succeed where others had failed?”
Vesper pauses, considers the question. “Honestly? I wasn’t confident we’d succeed. But I was confident we had to try. These children deserved every chance we could give them.”
The room goes quiet for a moment. Then someone starts clapping, and soon, the entire auditorium is on their feet.
As Vesper leaves the stage, I hear fragments of conversation from the doctors around me:
“Incredible technique…”
“Never seen anything like it…”
“She’s so young to be doing this level of work…”
“Beautifulandbrilliant. Her boyfriend is lucky as hell.”
That last comment comes from a guy about my age, and I have to resist the urge to grab him by the throat and explain exactly how lucky I am.
Instead, I make my way toward the stage exit, where Vesper is being swarmed by admirers. She looks overwhelmed by all the attention. Her eyes scan the crowd until they find mine.
When I see the exhaustion there, I push through the group of doctors and reach for her hand. “Excuse us,” I say politely while I tow her away from the crowd. “The good doctor needs a break.”
“Where are we going?” she asks as I lead her out of the auditorium and into the lobby.
“Somewhere I can do this properly.”
I spot a secluded alcove behind one of the conference center’s decorative columns and pull her behind it. The space is partially hidden by enormous plant pots filled with some kind of tropical ferns.
“Kovan, what are you?—”
I cut her off with a kiss, backing her against the column until there’s nowhere for her to go. When I finally let her breathe, her lips are swollen and her carefully styled hair is starting to come undone.
“You were incredible up there,” I tell her.
“Thank you, but we can’t do this here. Anyone could walk by.”
“Good. I hope they do.”
“I’m a professional, Kovan. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Your reputation is rock solid. You just proved that to a room full of your peers.” I slide my hand under her jacket, feeling the warmth of her skin through her silk blouse. “Now, let me prove how proud I am of you.”
“We’re in public!” she protests, but her body is already responding to my touch.
“Barely. And I don’t give a fuck who sees us.” I find the button of her pants and work it loose. “I want everyone in this building to know exactly who you belong to.”
“You’re insane,” she breathes, but she’s not stopping me as I slide my hand inside her pants.
“Insane for you,” I agree, finding her already wet and ready. “Always have been.”
She gasps as I stroke her. Her head lolls back against the column. “K-Kovan…”
“That’s right. Say my name.”
