Vik (Shot Callers 2)

And playing with Nastasia was always fun.

She was mine, and I was hers. Forever and always. And until she got that through her pretty little head, I would try to give her what she asked for, but I was only human.

Space.

My lip curled at the word.

When in the history of broken relationships had space ever done any good?

No. When a person asked for space, it was the beginning of the end. A death sentence.

If Nastasia thought I was about to let what we have die out, she was crazy. So, I did what I could to stay in her line of sight. I began to work closer to her, come around more often in the chance of seeing her, and yeah, I got in her face when she allowed it. Not because I was actually angry at her, but because when we argued, the sexual tension was through the roof. And what better way to make her miss me than to remind her of how nicely I hate fucked her when she begged me for it.

It had been a couple of weeks, and I couldn’t get that desperate kiss out of my head. Sure, we were both frustrated, and our irritation got the better of us, but that only made it hotter. Her hand cupping my cheek as she punished me, biting my lip. My fingers digging into her ass as we slammed back into the wall.

Holy fuck.

I fought a groan, and Sasha asked, “You good?”

Nope. How could I be?

The woman I planned my life around had suddenly decided I wasn’t her forever man.

It was the second time she’d done it too. The first time almost broke me. I wasn’t going to let myself be fractured by her uncertainty. I would make her certain. Undeniably so.

I knew she loved me. You didn’t look at someone that way Nas looked at me without loving them. She wore sunshine in her eyes that shone just for me. Her light bled into me, keeping me whole, keeping me sane.

She had to love me. Because when Nastasia loved, she gave it all, and if she didn’t love me any longer, that was it. Any chance of happiness was gone.

They said bad things came in threes, and I never believed that until Nas sent me on my way. Talk about a kick in the ass. The hits just kept coming. Blow after blow, I took them, but I didn’t know how much more I could take.

I was already bloody and broken. Another knock would turn me to dust. But if I was going down, I would fall with my fists swinging.

From the time we were a band of unruly kids, pledging ourselves to the firm, we had each other’s backs. There was an unwritten rule about such things. You had your brother’s back, no matter what. This was the first time I refused to have anyone at my six. Sasha and Lev were my brothers, but this wasn’t something I could go to them for. Not because they couldn’t help, but because they would insist on helping, and I couldn’t allow it.

My pride wouldn’t let me. This was something I needed to do on my own.

While I acknowledged that my ego was a dangerous thing, the need to prove myself to them, to her, was larger than anything. Maybe then, Nastasia would see the potential I really had. Right now, I wasn’t husband material. I knew that, and yeah, it stung.

She deserved more than I had to offer. But that didn’t mean I was willing to let her go.

This family, they had already done so much for Anika and me. Their father was more than a family friend. He was a patriarch to all us kids, finding the time to talk to us about our problems and trying to find a solution to them. They gave us jobs, their friendship, and made us part of their family. I owed it to them to sort this shit out without their assistance. I owed it to Anton Leokov, who sat me down at eighteen and gave me his blessing to date his daughter, knowing I would have regardless.

It was a hard pill to swallow to recognize you never solved a single problem on your own without the aid of your friends.

Our problems were stacking up. So much so that I didn’t even notice the toll it was taking on Anika, not until yesterday. It was my time to step up and take responsibility. I would not let the women in my life suffer in silence because I couldn’t get shit done.

Doubt plagued me, but I remained standing tall in the face of uncertainty. It would take more than money problems to bring me to my knees, no matter how large they were.

I didn’t have a choice; I had to succeed. I was not the type to allow failure. Not just for my family’s sake but for my own. If I failed, I didn’t know what I was going to do, because being in her presence and not being able to have her was torture. Pure agony.