Vik (Shot Callers Book 2)

by Belle Aurora

  Appearing distracted, his eyes lost focus. Recovering quickly, he uttered a bored-sounding, “I’ll think about it.”

  Perfect.

  I smiled inwardly.

  The die was cast.

  With Sasha’s stubbornness and Anika’s unwillingness to talk about how she felt, how else was I meant to get them together?

  After all, everyone deserved happiness, even the frustratingly obstinate and the distressingly damaged.

  As I left, I spared a glance at my perpetually brooding brother, leaning over his paperwork with his stone-faced countenance, and my chest ached.

  Especially them.

  37

  Nastasia

  “You’re waiting?” Anika asked, pausing in her dishwashing, her face falling considerably.

  As Vik sat at the dining room table with his parents, his laptop open with the budget we’d devised for them, I watched him explain to them how this was going to work from now on. And as I observed him speak firmly but to the point, leaving no room for argument, I smiled, picturing him being a stern but fair father.

  If we had a little girl, however, all bets were off. All she would have to do is look up at him with trembling lips and outstretched arms, and he would be lost to his little princess.

  That made me smile harder.

  “Yeah.” I took the plate she just washed and dried it off. “Vik and I decided we want the baby to be part of the ceremony. I mean, we’ve waited this long. What’s another year?”

  Anika’s eyes bugged out. “A year?”

  Ksenia spoke from the hallway entrance. “Yes. What’s another year?” I spun to look at her and found her staring emotionless at the tiny bump that had formed at my belly. The moment she realized I was watching her though, she pasted on a robotic smile that did not reach her eyes. “It will be so good to hear a child’s laughter once more. Family is so important.” Ksenia paused to shoot a look at Anika, and her body had noticeably turned rigid. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I wondered if Ksenia knew that Anika was infertile. Because if she did, that was some cold, fucked-up shit to say right in front of her.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and the moment the strange woman left, I whispered to my friend, “You’ve got to get out of here.”

  I went about drying the dish in my hand, not expecting a response, but when I got one, my heart caught in my throat.

  “I know” was her hushed reply.

  Anika looked at me, her gaze full of an unreadable emotion. Maybe despair? I paused to read the message in her eyes, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t decipher the language in which the communication was written.

  What was she trying to tell me?

  No doubt, her depression had waned some. She looked better. Her skin was brighter, her smile wider, her hips fuller, but there was something weighing down her heart. It hadn’t escaped my notice that she left the house as often as she could, spending her days with Vik and me at our place for as long as humanly possible without overstaying her welcome.

  It took me a while to figure it out, but I was pretty sure I knew the cause.

  It was Ksenia.

  The intense woman made Anika uncomfortable; that much was obvious. How deep that discomfort ran, I didn’t know, because my friend kept tight-lipped on the subject. But, at lunchtime, when Ksenia passed Anika and her arm brushed my friend’s shoulder, I observed as Anika flinched as though she’d been struck.

  And if that wasn’t cause for concern, I didn’t know what was.

  Four weeks ago, when I asked Doroteya if she would teach me to cook, she was ecstatic. Completely overjoyed. We made Sundays a permanent ritual. I would come early in the morning and sit with my future mother-in-law, discussing what Russian dishes I’d like to cook. We would go to the market together, and she taught me what to look for in picking the best produce and freshest meats. We’d head back home, and she would walk me through the recipe. As I watched her work, I’d take notes, jotting down every tip and trick the older woman had to offer.

  Every Sunday, I watched Anika shy away from her aunt.

  Every Sunday, I became more aware that something with the former Bratva wife was terribly wrong. She seemed disturbed. Unhinged. The closer I observed the woman, the more she showed her disdain for me. And nobody else seemed to notice it.

  It drove me crazy.

  It was a wonder that Anika was still mildly sane if Ksenia made her feel the same way. Which was why I suggested to Vik that he gift Anika his old bedroom. Although still a part of the house, the basement was separate enough to offer sanctuary when she needed it. It locked from the inside and outside and had its own entrance. It was basically an apartment, and Anika desperately needed her own space, away from her family. So, during lunch one Sunday, when Vik called out to his sister and tossed her his keys, she caught them with a frown.

  “What’s this?” she asked, looking down at them.

  “A little independence,” he uttered, and when she looked up at him knowingly, he winked.

  The smile started small but got wider, and when she held the keys to her chest, hugging them like a lifeline, my heart swelled. This was a change she needed. The difference in her was immediate. She’d been much happier ever since her move into the basement.

  It was an improvement, but I wasn’t sure it was enough.

  My only hope for Anika was that she find her forever person, that she be loved in a way so tender her heart ached with it, from a person who treated her gently with a care for her fragile mind and sensitive soul.

  And for a moment—for a single moment—I thought she might find that in Sasha.

  But Anika was delicate, and she needed to be treated as such.

  In my heart of hearts, I desperately hoped my brother could give her that.

  Anika

  My heel-covered feet gently clip-clopped down the hall as they carried me closer to my destination.

  This was a bad idea.

  The worst.

  And yet, I kept walking, closer and closer to my heart’s forbidden desire.

  The nearer I drew, the thicker my throat became, and by the time I got to where I was going, it felt as though I swallowed a considerable amount of sand.

  My eyes focused on the closed door, and I stood there a moment, lifting my hand, then hesitating. Licking my lips and trying again, I shut my eyes tightly as I put my knuckle to the cool wood and knocked.

  Why he closed the door, I didn’t know.

  It was close to 4:00 a.m., and there wasn’t another soul in sight.

  Tonight was my first shift as bar manager. Nas stuck around a while, and when she was satisfied that I had everything under control, she rounded the bar with her trademark wide smile, wrapped her arms around me, and held me close for a full minute as she quietly hyped me up.

  “You know what has to be done. You’ve seen me do it a thousand times before. You’ve got this. There is nobody I trust in this position more than I trust you.” She pulled back and placed her warm hand on my cheek. “You’re going to kill it, honey.”

  Her confidence was unwavering, and wouldn’t you know it? That confidence flowed right through me, taking root with a certainty and conviction that borderlined cocky. And she was right.

  I killed it.

  Bleeding Hearts closed its doors at 3:00 a.m. Birdie and I went about counting the tills. I placed the money in a lockable bank bag, and when Birdie asked me if I was coming, I told her I wanted to do a little inventory before I left. As the mocha-skinned beauty said goodbye, I held a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, lightly waving her off.

  The moment she was gone, I placed the clipboard down on the bar and contemplated exactly what the plan was here.

  The truth was, I didn’t have one. I knew what I wanted, but how to get there was an open-ended question.

  Time passed slowly, and one by one, I watched employees leave until I was sure we were the only two people left in the building. My breathing turned choppy, and my
stomach twisted, but I sought him out anyway.

  My knuckle lightly knocked on the door, and without waiting for a response, I entered. And the moment I saw him, looking as weary as he was, my heart stuttered.

  His shirt was unbuttoned one button too many, and his sleeves were pushed up his forearms, revealing the toned, lightly-veined flesh that made my stomach shimmy. Those whisky eyes that seemed to see everything locked onto me.

  I held up the bank bag and forced a tiny smile. “Where do you want this?”

  His small, stern movements as he sat up straight told me he was irritated. “On the desk is fine.”

  My nod was slight.

  Maybe tonight wasn’t the night.

  I approached his desk and placed the bag onto the corner of it, then stalled. When he noticed, his thick brow rose. “Is that all?”

  Lord. He made no qualms about it. He let me know every single day since that awful slap at Lidi’s birthday party that he was pissed at me. And I deserved it. I should never have put my hands on him in anger.

  Regret was the worst of feelings, and right now, I felt it so strongly that it pierced my soul, a shard of broken glass being pressed into the area right above my heart.

  Tonight.

  It had to be tonight.

  Now or never.

  I let out a short breath and slowly rounded the table. He watched me carefully as I took up his space and lowered my bottom to the edge of the desk, sitting close enough to his chair that I was able to smell his spicy masculine scent.

  I wondered if he could scent my need.

  The aggravation he wore should not have affected me the way it did. I felt my nipples bead and my core pulse, just once, and very, very slowly, I forced my knees apart, spreading my legs. Completely unashamed, his dark gaze shot to the tiny black lace panties that covered my needy sex. The miniskirt I wore rode up around my hips, and when I placed a hand on my thigh, leisurely bringing it to the place I desired it most, Sasha took in a stammering breath, watching my middle finger slide up and down my lace-covered slit.

  An offering. One of which was all I had, and to give it meant something to me. I hoped it would mean something to him too.

  Me, on a silver platter.

  He rumbled, “What are you doing, Ani?” without ever taking his gaze off my sex.

  I swallowed hard but forced a shy smile. “I must be doing a terrible job if it’s not obvious.”

  And just as my fingers dipped inside to reveal my greedy pussy, his hand shot out lightning-fast, catching my wrist and holding it firmly within his grasp. My wide eyes met his cold ones, and my heart raced as mortification settled over me.

  Oh no. No. Don’t do this. Please. Don’t do it.

  “Don’t.”

  One word. That was all he said. And he may as well have taken a hammer to my glass heart, because the pieces shattered, falling to my feet, leaving a gaping hole in my chest.

  And grief settled over me, an old friend welcoming me home.

  Well, shit.

  Goddammit. I was sure this would work.

  Humiliation hit me in the gut. I snapped my knees closed, stood on shaky legs, and walked around the desk as quickly as I could in heels, bumping my knee on the edge of the desk as I hurried to get away. But when I got to the open doorway, I remembered, paused midstep, and wanted nothing more than to lower my face and cry.

  “I need a ride home.” I sounded pathetic, even to my own ears.

  He let out a short sigh, and soon after, the jingling of keys sounded.

  Although I refused to look at him, I heard him approach, and the warmth at my back told me he waited patiently for me to move. But I couldn’t.

  Now or never.

  My stomach ached with embarrassment, but I still had one card to play. My only card. If this didn’t work, nothing would.

  Gut tight, I placed my hands on the outsides of my thighs, bringing them up slowly until they disappeared under my tiny, ruffled skirt. Hooking my thumbs into the elastic of the strip of lace I called underwear, I heard Sasha’s breath catch as I worked unhurried, lowering my panties down my legs until they fell to my ankles. I stepped out of them and waited.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  I took his stunned surprise and used the time to lift the material until the smooth curve of my bare ass was exposed.

  Cora, I swear to God. If this doesn’t work, I will murder you.

  Holding the doorframe, I stepped apart, spreading my legs, then carefully bent at the waist, showing the furious man behind me my bare, shaved mound.

  Sasha didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound until he let out a rough warning. “I am in a very bad mood, Ani. Do not push me.”

  Oh, my heart.

  I peered back at him and found his hooded golden eyes trained on my already throbbing slit, his lips parted, chest heaving. My gaze lowered. The thick bulge in his pants was too big to miss.

  My stomach clenched. A breath of relief left me.

  He wanted me.

  Was he really going to punish us both by denying it?

  Knowing Sasha?

  Yes. Yes, he would.

  I took the opportunity and ran with it. Nervous, I returned an unsteady, “Let me make it better.” Those harsh eyes met mine, and I flushed as I said the words, “I could be the distraction you need.”

  Sasha’s hand rose, hovered over my ass, then clenched it into a fist as he uttered a cool, “If you’re looking for gentle, I can’t—”

  I cut him off with a naïve-sounding, “I trust you.”

  Three small words.

  How they set him off.

  One second, I was waiting for him to mount me; then next, I was whirled around so fast my head spun. I gasped out loud as Sasha pushed me against the wall, and I hit it with a dull thud. I blinked as he ascended, looking frantic and pissed the fuck off.

  “Is this what you want?” he asked, fury lining his words. The way he looked at me then frightened me. Unconsciously, I put my hands up protectively as he pressed the hard wall of his chest into my palms forcefully. “Is this what you envisioned?”

  He was trying to scare me. And as my heart began to race, I was ashamed to admit that he was succeeding.

  Instinctively, I pushed back against him, and my chest twinged as he smirked knowingly.

  “You don’t want this, Ani,” he sneered, and as he moved to pull away, I panicked. My fingers tangled in his shirt, compelling him to stay. He looked down at where I held him, then back up at me with blazing eyes full of wrath.

  Before I could stop myself, I rushed out, “I want you.” My chest heaved. Lowering my gaze, I focused on his chest, loosened my hold on him, releasing his shirt as the quiet confession left me. “I want you.”

  What he said was cruel. He looked me up and down like I was an object and taunted me with a slow and dispassionate, “My, my. How the tables have turned.” His voice turned glacial. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t want you?”

  And because he was hurting, I steeled my fragile emotions and nodded, revealing frankly, “I’m not asking for a commitment.” I couldn’t believe I said what I did. “I’m asking you to use me to ease your own pain. Give me what I deserve. I know you want to, and I’m giving you a free pass. Don’t hold back. I can take it.” His broad chest twitched under my fingertips. Barely audible, my heart caught in my throat as I whispered, “Punish me.”

  Sasha’s jaw set, and as he leaned into me, the pressure caused my breath to leave me in a whoosh. He fumbled with his belt, the backs of his fingers brushing my bare pussy as he looked me in the eye and spoke. “We do this my way or no way. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded swiftly.

  Once he freed himself, his cock bobbed, hitting my sensitive flesh, and I so desperately wanted to see it, but the way he had me trapped against the hard wall of his body, all I could do was focus on his angry, lust-filled gaze. Without preamble, he took himself in his hand. I couldn’t see it, but the motion told me he wa
s jerking off. And my pussy clenched. He wasted no time. He bent, hooked his free arm under my knee, and lifted it high to rest just above his hip. The moment the tip of his cock touched the entrance to my pussy, my eyes closed in bliss.

  Suddenly, his hand was wrapped around my throat. Not hard enough to choke, but firmly enough to warn. My eyes shot open, and his face was a hairsbreadth away from my own. He spoke with caution. “You will open your eyes. You will see me. Do you hear me, Anika? You will see me. Not him. Me.”

  My cheeks flushed, and I agreed unevenly, “I see you.”

  His eyes lingered on my mouth, and although his face softened, he took my moment of ease to press into me, driving home in one harsh thrust. His thick cock stretching me, leaving me full in a way I didn’t know possible.

  My entire body seized a moment before my eyes fluttered, and I breathed out, “Oh my God.”

  Sasha shuddered, his face turning to the side as he took a moment before snaking one arm around my lower back, pulling me closer, and driving even deeper, and I couldn’t stop my moan even if I wanted to. He stole it from me. And for a moment, we simply stayed as we were, connected in a most intimate way. His cock throbbed inside me, and I needed him to move.

  So, I blinked slowly through my hooded gaze, and begged on a hush, “Please.”

  “Please, what?” He drew close, speaking against the apple of my cheek.

  “Please fuck me” were the words I breathed out, and when his eyes flashed heatedly, my core clenched around his hard cock, causing his face to bunch in pain. The low groan that left him vibrated through his chest and into mine, and I’d never heard a sexier, more erotic sound in all my life.

  Knowing I had caused it made me feel formidable in a way I couldn’t put into words.