by Belle Aurora
Winked.
“Oh God,” I muttered as my brow dipped, rolling off him. When I glared at him, his lip twitched. “You could have said something,” I bit out as he rolled onto his side, resting his head on a fist, grinning at me. I stalked into my closet to retrieve my kimono and wrapped it around me, tying it tightly around my waist. On the defensive, I looked up at Lev and swore, “We didn’t have sex, okay?”
Lev’s brow pulled down. “I don’t remember asking.”
Hadn’t he?
Oh. No, he hadn’t.
Embarrassed, I ignored the flush of my cheeks and stomped into my bathroom, came back holding a pile of his clothes, and threw them at the cocky man in my bed. The leg of his jeans dangled over his head. “You need to leave.”
I said it in a way that should have slighted, but Vik was not offended. Instead, he quietly pushed away his dirty clothes, stretched lazily, then spoke through a yawn, “Yeah, I probably should go home and let Anika tear me a new asshole.”
Listen to this guy, talking about his sweet sister like she was an inconvenience. I suddenly had the urge to stick up for her. “You deserve it.”
“She was very upset,” Lev confirmed with a tilt of his head.
“And from the way Sasha gave it to her,” I added without a thought, “she is well within her rights to take it out on you.”
Vik sat up, then blinked, and very, very slowly, he said, “Sasha yelled at her?”
Uh oh.
Should I not have said that?
I probably shouldn’t have said that.
“She refused to tell him where you were,” Lev offered. “He did not like that.”
Vik’s mouth thinned into a single line. “That’s 'cause she didn’t know.”
“Yes. She told him as much,” uttered Lev, bored-like. “It was clear he didn’t believe her.”
I didn’t know who Vik was pissed at—Sasha, Anika, or himself. For that reason, I posed a roundabout, “This is what happens when you go AWOL. The people who care about you worry. We tried to call you.” Then quietly, “I tried to call you.”
“My phone’s busted.” Vik frowned as he thought about what I said before he rolled out of bed, gathered his things, and muttered, “I gotta go.”
Vik dug through the pile of clothes and pulled on a black tee. It had turned stiff in the places where blood dripped from his face, but it wasn’t overly noticeable. He stuck on his shoes, picked up his stuff, and left without a backward glance. And my brow lowered. When I heard the front door open then shut, I frowned. The moment the engine started, I rushed over to the window, pulled back the curtain, and watched him drive away, with a rounded mouth that released an incredulous, “Not even a thank you. Nice.”
“Nastasia,” Lev said as I continued to gape into the distance, “put something on. Breakfast will be getting cold.”
A sigh escaped me as I turned, walked into my closet, and dressed in jeans and a sweater as Lev waited at the foot of the stairs. Sliding into my fluffy slippers, my brother held the door for me as I made my way outside.
A sudden thought had my brow marring.
The walk, although brief, gave me time to ask, “Lev, do you think I’m smart?”
No hesitation. “I do.”
But I could tell he hadn’t grasped what I meant. It was hard to explain to somebody like Lev, but I tried. “Not smart, but smart. Like, intelligent, you know?” Lev wore his confusion openly. I quietly muttered, “Never mind.”
There was a fleeting pause before my brother said, “Perhaps if you tell me the answer you seek, I can help you reach it.”
I thought about how best to describe it. “It’s just that I look at you, and I know you’re smart. I see what Sasha has done with Bleeding Hearts, and even though he’s an ass, I know he’s smart. But me? I don’t know what people think when they see me, but I don’t think it’s ‘hey, that girl knows a thing or two.’”
“Why is that?” he asked, curious.
I felt momentarily numb. “Everyone has their shit together. Everyone but me. You work hard, you make time for your family, and you always have a plan. Mina is younger than me, and even she has a plan. I couldn’t even think about having baby, but she’s so excited to expand your family.” I tried not to sound jealous. “Sometimes, it’s hard to watch people be so happy, be so put together. Sometimes, it’s hard to weigh yourself up against others. If you asked me two years ago where I’d be now, I definitely wouldn’t have said ‘standing still,’ but that’s where I am. Stuck in place, like a fly on sticky paper.” I wasn’t explaining myself very well, so when Lev did not respond, I murmured, “Forget it.”
And when Lev spoke, it was off topic. “I am an intelligent man.”
Confusion swept over my features. “Uh…”
“My I.Q. in nearly unmatched.”
“Okay,” I uttered, unsure of where this was going.
“Give me a sum, any sum. I’ll find the answer. And I’ll find it correctly.”
I smiled through furrowed brows. “Don’t take this the wrong way, brother mine, but I thought we were talking about me.”
“Would you agree that I’m intelligent?”
This was a losing battle.
I blew out, “Yes. I would.”
He put a gentle hand to my arm to stop me in my tracks, and when I stilled and he looked down at me with those golden eyes that rarely saw all of what was happening around him, he spoke eloquently, “And yet, in moments of madness, when my mind is overwhelmed with emotion, you have scraped me off the floor, fed me, and put me to bed on hundreds of occasions.” He let that sink in. My chest tightened as he went on. “You have seen me at my worst, unable to control my rage, beating men bloody.” He paused. “Now, I’ll ask you. After all that, do you still think I’m intelligent?”
My voice was whisper-soft. “Of course.”
“As are you, whether you have your shit together or not.” My brother didn’t always know how to express himself, but when he did, it was perfect. “Everyone is fighting something on the inside. We all have a dark spot that flares when times are tough. I’ve found the important thing is to pick your battles wisely, because winning each of them is impossible. And every time you lose, because you will from time to time, take a moment and breathe.” His hand slipped into mine, and it squeezed. “Remember, you’re not alone.”
I was stupidly close to crying.
God. He was something, all right.
My lip trembled through my smile. “See? Smart.”
Lev did not smile, but his eyes softened, and as we walked on in silence, he opened the door and let me pass. I made my way to the kitchen, and when it all came into view, my eyes widened at the mess of flour and batter all over the counter.
Mina twisted back to look at us. “Finally. This batch is almost done.”
Lidiya sat on a stool with her legs swinging, and as Mirella cut a pancake up into pieces, I snuck up on the little mouse and kissed her swiftly on the cheek, ripping a squeal from my niece along with some gasping giggles.
“Lidi likes my pancakes,” Mina muttered with a glare aimed at her husband.
My niece made a happy sound as her chubby legs swung about.
“They smell—” Interesting. “—great,” I offered enthusiastically, because Mina was learning to cook, and not every one of her recipes was a winner.
“I’m sorry we were delayed.” Lev walked around the counter to kiss Mina atop her head. “I hadn’t planned on Vik being there.”
A clatter sounded when the spatula in Mina’s hand fell. She turned slowly, keeping her eyes on me, but asked Lev, “Is that right? And where exactly was Vik?”
My eyes snapped shut, and I winced as Lev picked at an oddly orange pancake while revealing unemotionally, “Sleeping in Nastasia’s bed.”
“Sure, he was.” Mina smiled but it was almost robotic. And when she retrieved her spatula, she pointed it at me long and hard. “You better start talking, Miss Lady.”
A sigh left me as
I reached onto my niece’s plate and stole a bite of pancake. The moment it hit my tongue, I reflexively spat it back out, mumbling, “Oh God,” because pancakes usually did not taste of uncooked mushrooms.
Thankfully, Mina was concentrating on her current batch of mushcakes, but when Lev handed me a mug of coffee, I took it with quiet thanks.
And then, I talked.
It was a little past eleven when I pulled up, and the moment I was out of my car, I stilled as a heated argument began when the front door shot open.
“You can’t work looking like that, man.”
This was Alessio.
“Come on. No one gives a shit what I look like. I’m there to keep the riffraff out. I’m meant to look intimidating.”
That came from Vik, and he had yet to see me.
Alessio debated, “I care what you look like. You’re representing me, jerkoff, and I’m not having you stand in front of my club with people thinking you’re the riffraff. You look like a gangbanger.” The scarred man noticed me then, jerking his chin my way with a curt “Hey.”
Vik saw me then. The way he put his hands to his hips and lowered his head was not exactly welcoming. He did, however, spurn me briskly “What are you doing here?”
This bitch.
“Excuse me?” The second I said it, Vik’s brows lowered dangerously. “I am not in the mood, sir. I am here because I’m here. That’s all you get.” Leaning to the left, I looked around Vik to Alessio. “Want to grab lunch?”
With a touch of regret, he lightly shook his head. “Busy today, toots.”
“How about Nicolas? Or Davi?” I asked a little desperately. Hell, I didn’t like the guy, but at this point I’d take anyone’s company. “Roman?”
“What about me?”
My head snapped up to the open doorway where Philippe stood, leaning against it, and when my eyes met his, they softened. “Hey.”
Vik clicked his tongue. “Get outta here, Frenchie. If anyone needs a baguette, we’ll call.”
They would never get along. Not with our history.
I loved Vik. I loved him so much that at one point, I was so consumed by it that it frightened me. I never wanted to be that woman. The one who loved a man more than he loved her.
I was young and stupid. Twenty-one-years old, thinking I had all the answers. Scared to death of Vik and the intense, desperate feelings he inspired in me. In a move I will forever regret, a move that broke something inside of me that I will never be able to repair, I left him.
And then there was Philippe. Sweet, kind Philippe.
He was there when I so desperately needed the distraction. He was there in a way that dulled the pain. I’d never had what he provided.
Peace of mind.
Contentment.
And, although it shamed me, for a while, I mistook that contentment for love.
He was a breath of fresh air at a time when I felt as though I was suffocating.
I never had to guess what he was thinking. Never had to guess where I stood with him. He was open and so forward with his feelings that when he proposed after only six weeks, everything stood still.
Convinced I would never find a man who would treat me better, I accepted, though my stomach ached.
It didn’t take long for me to realize I’d made a mistake. It took even less time for me to see that I would never love Philippe the way he loved me.
How could I do that to him?
In short, I couldn’t.
It would have been hypocritical of me to ask this man to spend a life with me knowing my mind drifted to another, knowing my heart was already claimed by a man who may not have deserved it but owned me nonetheless.
I called it off and in a cowardly way at that. I packed my shit, left a note on his pillow, and made my leave while he was at work.
Two months but it felt so much longer. Two months without Vik felt like an eternity. And when I turned up at his door with my bags in hand, I was ashamed to say, we picked up almost exactly where we left off, unspeaking of the events of the previous months, refusing to acknowledge our time apart.
Unsurprisingly, Philippe did not talk to me for years after. I didn’t blame him. I did him dirty and we both knew it.
Things were better now but the underlying tension between us had never faded. Without wanting to appear vain, it was clear that Philippe still held a candle for me and no matter how many times I blew it out, he lit the wick over and over, letting it burn. But his friendship was so important to me that I ignored the shadows the flickering flame cast in his eyes.
Philippe looked down from the steps, and when his gaze took in the damage to Vik’s face, he uttered, “Wow. Somebody made some real improvements to your face, my commie friend.”
Vik’s jaw ticked, but to have the chance to talk with my friend about everything that happened was too good an opportunity to deny. And when Philippe’s dark gaze rested on me, daring me to accept, I shrugged and asked, “Is Italian okay?”
Philippe straightened, and his eyes smiled. “Perfect.”
Well, all right then. I smiled widely. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”
Philippe passed Vik slowly. They eyed each other with open abhorrence. Philippe’s arm nudged Vik’s, and Vik laughed caustically. It was a dick-measuring contest if I’d ever seen one, and currently, neither one of them was winning.
Finally, Philippe walked over to my car, and just when I thought we were in the clear, Vik strode toward us and started talking. “I’ll be by later to pick up the shit I left at your place last night, kiska.” My stare was blank and remained that way when he went on, glaring at Philippe. “You could gather it up before I get there. You might wanna check the bathroom, where I showered.” His gaze darkened. “Or your bed, where I slept.”
My face dipped. I should have known he’d go there, especially with the man standing at the passenger side of my car. Each word was designed to be a slap to Philippe’s face. And from the way Philippe’s eyes narrowed, I could see they might have met their mark.
Score one point to Vik.
“I tend to leave stuff on the nightstand.” Vik’s voice turned lethal. He looked the other man up and down, insinuating, “You know. Easy to reach.”
Wow. Just wow.
“I thought you two weren’t together anymore?” queried Philippe, looking between us with clear confusion.
“We aren’t,” I said, not very convincingly.
And at the very same time, Vik smirked. “When has that ever stopped us? Don’t be so naïve, buddy.”
I should have been mad.
Why wasn’t I?
Maybe because jealousy on Vik felt like the highest of compliments.
A silence followed, and the longer it went on, the space around us changed, grew thicker, sucking the positive right out of the atmosphere. But I refused to let it show.
Philippe’s eyes fell to me, and a forced smile stretched my lips. “Shall we?”
A moment’s hesitation, then, “Of course. We have catching up to do.” I spared a glance at Vik. “I want to hear everything.”
Philippe didn’t. “Then you shall.”
“How refreshing,” I said, then turned my head to look the man with the bruised face and busted eyebrow dead in the eye as I unlocked my car and opened the door. “A man without secrets.”
Partway into the trivial conversation that lunch usually offered, we lapsed into a short silence.
It was nice. Comfortable. And that was where it ended.
Philippe was my friend.
I never put too much stock in my tumultuous relationship with him. Not until he broke through the silence and queried gently, “I never stood a chance, did I?”
My eyes lowered, and I picked at my food, not at all hungry anymore.
Because he was right. He never stood a chance.
No one did.
Not when in competition with Vik.
19
Nastasia
“On your left, babe,” Chessie uttered, and
I blinked back into focus from wherever my mind had taken me a moment ago.
“Sorry,” I muttered before pasting on a wide smile and morphing back into the lace-teddy-wearing vixen I was. When I approached a man in his thirties with fuck-me eyes and a tailored shirt, I knew he had money to spend, and I called over the music, “What can I get you, handsome?”
It was almost eleven, and Bleeding Hearts was at capacity. With a long line outside, I knew it would be a busy night, and after witnessing the struggle of the last year where Sasha had been only months away from losing this place, I would never take our success for granted and complain about being ran off my feet.
Tonight, I took orders with a lusty smile, feeling somewhat lighter than I had been yesterday.
Moving around Anika, I reached over Chessie to get my hands on the bottle of Hibiki Whiskey. I poured carefully over the sphere of ice, making sure not to spill a single drop, because this shit was expensive.
When I handed it to tailored-shirt guy, he placed the hundred in my hand, looked me in the eye, and said, “Keep the change.”
Aww. A nine-dollar tip.
What a guy.
My face remained passive as I fought the eye roll trying to make itself known. The man looked uncertain a second, and when my lips tipped up lightly, he looked relieved. I leaned over the bar, gripped his shirt, pulled him close, and pressed a long kiss to his cheek.
I pulled away, and his lusty eyes told me I’d done my job right. When I turned my back to him and began to sashay away, I heard him call out desperately, “What’s your name?” and I smirked.
And that was how it was done.
No doubt he’d spend a cool thou’ trying to get me to talk to him over the course of the night.
It was a business transaction that suited me well. The more money they spent, the drunker they got. The drunker they got, the better the tips would be. Of course, Vik would attend to the inebriated men, approaching and doing the obligatory thing by telling them he thought they had enough, and it was time to move on. They wouldn’t, but the security footage would show this was done and done often. In short, it covered our asses from disgruntled patrons who wanted their money back or claimed we were negligent in any way.
