Vik (Shot Callers 2)

When he licked his bottom lip slowly, my mouth dried. He looked me over lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. And if I were being honest, for as long as he wanted to look me over the way he was, I would make the time.

“Nas.” One word. One syllable.

One caution.

The way he breathed my name had me stumbling over myself.

Lord. Why did his voice always sound like sex?

My stomach twisted harshly as a sudden flashback—Vik pumping into me from behind, one strong arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me back into his thick cock as the other arm came up between my breasts, his hand gently wrapped around my throat, his teeth biting down on my shoulder—had me lightheaded.

I didn’t want an audience, so I waited until Fawn scurried away with a quiet apology before I said, “She’s young.”

Maybe Vik didn’t get my meaning.

“She is,” he agreed, looking over in her direction, and the longer he stared, the harder my heart began to beat. “She’s also cute.”

Or maybe he did.

Jealousy tore my insides apart. And although I felt like my world was falling down around me, I did what I always did when I felt this way.

I readjusted my crown and pretended I was fine, when all I ever wanted was to take my place on the throne beside his.

14

Vik

Fucking hell. This could not be happening.

I worked my ass off. I worked around everyone and everything to deliver while still maintaining some of what was mine, and I couldn’t get ahead. It wasn’t enough.

Hell, I don’t know why I was surprised.

It was never going to be enough so long as the work I did was by the book.

My hand came up to my brow. I rubbed absently at it, my knee bouncing rapidly under the table. “What does this mean?”

The stern, unsympathetic woman seemed perturbed by the question. “I have explained this to you, Mr. Nikulin.” She shot a mild, unbothered stare to my mother and father, and it took everything I had not to reach across the table and demand she pay for the disrespect. Instead, I clenched my jaw tightly and listened carefully. “Yes, you have made payments, but the amount we have stipulated versus what you have offered is not sufficient.”

Was she fucking stupid? Did she not hear me?

It was my turn to glare at her. I asked slowly, once more in death-like calm, “What does this mean?”

Her red lips pursed. She placed her hands carefully on the desk, one folded over the other in poise, and said, “It means you have until the end of next month.”

The end of next month?

She couldn’t be serious.

“That’s—” I did the math in my head. “—forty-two days away.” Her expression remained unchanged, and I shuffled on my seat before I leaned in, looked her dead in the eyes, and rumbled, “You’re telling me I have forty-something days to get the money.”

Without hesitation, she responded, “Yes.”

Yeah. That wasn’t going to happen.

Why did I get the feeling she was enjoying this?

Jesus Christ.

How the fuck was I supposed to get the money in that time? I’d have better luck winning the lottery.

With a light sigh, I nodded, then stood. “No problem. We’ll have it.”

And as I held out my hand to help my mother up, she uttered, “Viktor, I don’t think we—”

No. Not now. Not in front of her.

I cut her off with a firm, “It’s fine, Ma.”

My father walked in stoic silence until we were about halfway home. And then he cracked under the pressure.

“Yoy.” He crumbled, and he covered his face with shaking hands as he muttered a heavy-sounding, “O bozhe moy.”

And it broke my fucking heart.

I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

My father shook his head and murmured weakly, “Not okay. Nothing is okay. This is very bad, Viktor.” His voice trembled as he closed his eyes and prayed in silence.

My entire life, my father was my rock. He may have done some questionable things, but he was a good man who cared for his family and simply wanted the best for them.

Now, listening to the fear radiate off of him… nothing hurt quite so much.

“Pops, stop.” I did my best to reassure him. “Everything will be okay.”

I noticed my mother was awfully quiet, and as I peered into my rearview mirror, my chest ached when I saw her blinking away tears.

Oh, fuck no.

“Hey,” I called back to her. Her lashes glistened as she met my eyes, and I uttered, “This is nothing. A hiccup.” But my mom did not look convinced. On all that was holy, I vowed, “I’m gonna take care of this. Everything will be fine.”

We continued to drive on in silence, and when I pulled up into the driveway of my childhood home, I let them out. That was when Mom noticed I wasn’t following and said, “Where do you go? Come inside. I’ll make you something for eat.”