Page 40 of Toxic Temptation
What is wrong with me?
The museum entrance is crawling with security. Not the usual friendly guard in a blue uniform, but massive men in black suits who look like they could bench press a car.
Before I can second-guess my decision to come here, a familiar voice calls out.
“Vesper!” Luka waves frantically from the entrance. “You came!”
He runs past the guards like they’re lifeless furniture and launches himself at me. His arms wrap around my waist, and despite every logical reason to keep my distance, I hug him back.
“Hi, kid. You look good.”
His smile is so bright it makes my chest ache. “Uncle Kovan said you were coming to the museum with us tonight.”
I glance at the dark windows. “You know it’s closed, right?”
He grins, and for a second, he looks exactly like his uncle. “Not for us. Come on, it’s amazing inside.”
One of the guards steps in front of us. “I need to do a security check on your friend, Master Luka.”
My spine straightens. “Excuse me?”
“Standard procedure for Mr. Krayev.”
“I’m sure Mr. Krayev will make an exception. I am his guest.”
The guard doesn’t budge. “I have explicit instructions to search you.”
“It’s not a big deal, Vesper,” Luka chimes in.
“Maybe not for you, but this is about refusing to be bullied.” I cross my arms. “No matter how intimidating the muscle. Step aside, or I’m leaving.”
“Don’t leave,” Luka pleads.
“Yeah, Vesper.” That voice sends heat straight through me. “Don’t leave.”
I turn to find Kovan watching us, and my heart does something embarrassing in my chest. “Is this how you treat guests?” I askthrough a dry mouth. “Invite them somewhere and then subject them to pat-downs?”
Kovan’s eyes find mine. “Go inside, Luka. Vesper and I need to talk.”
The moment Luka disappears, Kovan’s expression shifts. “It’s a precaution.”
“I refuse to let your bodyguard grope me.”
“Stand down, Dima.” The guard melts away at Kovan’s command. “If you won’t let him do it…” His hands settle on my hips before I can protest. “ … then I’ll have to do it myself.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’m afraid you don’t get a vote.” He steps closer and reaches out, his palms sliding over my ribs, my waist. “Turn around.”
“This is ridiculous?—”
“Turn. Around.”
The authority in his voice sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. Against every rational thought in my head, I comply.
“It’s just procedure,” he says quietly, his breath warm against my ear.
“Right. Procedure.”
