Vik by Belle Aurora

3

Nastasia

It was only9:00 a.m., but as I got out of my car and walked up the wide steps, the front door opened, and the man who stood there looked so sleep-worn, so disgruntled, wearing nothing but a pair of navy boxers, that I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks. I reached up and made a show of sliding my sunglasses off, taking in his body like the spectacle it was. If it weren’t for the jagged scars on his face, he’d be a perfect ten.

Damn.

A lusty, teasing smile stretched at my lips. “Okay. All right. I kind of get what Cora sees in your ugly mug. I mean, if we put a bag over your head….” I let the rest of the sentence fade away.

Alessio rolled his eyes, leaving me at the door. I laughed out loud, shut the door behind me, and jogged to keep up, following him down the hall and into the dining room. The second they saw me, a round of greetings sounded.

“My girl,” said Uncle Laredo, putting down the newspaper he was reading to give me his full attention.

A strange feeling passed through me. It always did whenever I saw him. It was as though I was transported back into the body of my eight-year-old self, and a tiny sliver of awkwardness reared its ugly head.

Genuinely happy to see him, I approached with a smile and leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Good morning, Uncle.”

We’d been estranged for too long, spent too much time apart. I missed him terribly during that time. Now, I came to visit once a week in an attempt to bridge the gap.

Laredo Scarfo was not the most handsome man in the world, but he had something about him. The way he spoke, the way he held himself, he was charismatic.

“You look beautiful,” he uttered in a paternal way, his eyes smiling. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, boys?”

Nicolas Van Eden nodded enthusiastically, speaking around his food. “Like an angel.”

I had a special kind of love for the South African. He was quite honestly the sweetest man I’d ever met, and while he let me know on many occasions that he would treat me like a princess should I ever wish to date him, it was precisely why we would not have made a good match.

I wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to be doted on to appreciate a man.

As I passed him, I placed both my hands on his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

Roman Vlasic, half Italian Stallion, half Croatian Sensation, shot me a smile that dripped of sex. “Morning, lutka. Where’s my kiss?” When I passed him, he tried to grab at me, and I slapped his hand away, training narrowed eyes on him. “What?” he asked, the very image of innocence.

He was a sleaze, which was why I was not going to give him an inch, because, Lord, he’d take a mile, and with a face like that, I’d be tempted to let him.

I pointed an unwavering finger at him. “Hands to yourself, Rome.”

He blew me an exaggerated kiss, and if I were any other woman, I would have thrown myself into his arms right then and there. But it was the gorgeous little guy at the end of the table that was, by far, my favorite of all my uncle’s adopted sons.

Davi Lobo – extremely sweet but extremely short – had a smile that could cause a coronary, and although he didn’t exude the kind of seductive pull that others did, he had other qualities that made up for it. As I sat beside him, he turned in his chair, giving me his complete attention, took both my hands in his, and pressed butter-soft kisses to my knuckles.

And that was why women all over New York were half in love with him.

They fell the full way down whenever he listened intently to whatever you were saying, his steady gaze on your lips, without actually understanding a lick of it.

He was getting better though. And so, I asked, “How’s your English coming along?”

When he made a face, I chuckled. He spoke rapid-fire Portuguese, and when I made a face identical to the one he made just a moment earlier, he stopped and smiled, letting out a heavily accented, “Better, a little.” Then he put up both hands and made a gesture like waves in an ocean. “Slowly.”

“That’s great.” I laid a hand on his arm and said, “Slow is good.”

There was one man missing, but I was not about to ask about him. There was history there, and I didn’t want to bring any unwanted attention toward it.

It was better that Philippe wasn’t here. Whenever we found ourselves together, there was an intense longing shadowing his gaze, one that I feared would never escape him. It wasn’t fair for him. My heart belonged to another.

“To what do we owe the pleasure, Nastasia?” my uncle asked kindly.

Uncle Laredo still wasn’t used to me coming over unannounced, and after all the bad blood between our families, I was pretty sure he was waiting for the ball to drop. He just couldn’t seem to understand that being in his presence gave me a familial connection I thought I’d lost.

Helping myself to a piece of toast on Davi’s plate, I nibbled on it and uttered guardedly, “I didn’t think I needed a reason.”

Comprehending his folly, Laredo sat up straight, his newspaper forgotten, and said with absolute conviction, “You are welcome here, sweetheart. Always. At all hours. No matter what.”

Now if that didn’t just make my little heart sing.

“Good.” I grinned at him from across the table, and when he winked at me, a feeling of warmth settled in my chest.

The man seated to my left did what he always did. Trying his best to bleed into his surroundings, Alessio sipped at his espresso. When he felt my eyes on him, he looked up and lifted his brow. “What?”

My smile was deceptively serene. My words did not match the sentiment. “When are you going to stop screwing around and call her?”

He sighed loudly, then said, “How about you mind your fucking business, Nas?”

I let out an unladylike “Pffft” and blinked at him. “Do you even know me?” I laughed quietly. “It’s just not what I do.”

His jaw tightened a moment, but then he smiled darkly, the scars on his face stretching. “Tell me. How are things with Vik?”

Ooh. Touchy, touchy.

“Touché,” I muttered, taking the coffee right out of his hands and claiming it as my own, sipping loudly, then finishing with a satisfied “Ahhh.”

He looked at me like he might just strangle me, and a bubble of laughter stole up my throat. “Aw, don’t get pissy. You know I love you.” My lips pursed. “Like you.” I sipped at the strong, smooth coffee. “Okay. Tolerate you.”

When Mina found out she had a brother, she sure as shit didn’t expect it to be the ever ornery, Scar Face Scarfo. And, yes, it took them a while to bond, but now, they loved each other just as much as I loved my own siblings. It was nice. I liked that they had roots with each other, roots that ran deep. It was a bond that no other could replicate.

At first, Alessio refused to claim Mina. It didn’t help matters when Mina discovered that Sasha was the man who put those scars on her brother’s face. My eldest brother didn’t often do stupid shit, but sleeping with Alessio’s trampy wife definitely made the top of the list.

Yep. It was a shitshow.

Anyone with half a brain could see that the scars were a trauma Alessio would never be able to see past. Kind of hard when the reminder was worn so blatantly on his face.

It didn’t matter that his packaging was torn; Cora took one look at the broody jerk, and she wanted him. One shared evening, one tender kiss. That was all it took.

Corinna Alkaev was in love. And, like the asshole he was, Alessio refused to call her.

I wasn’t a complete imbecile though. Deep down, I knew Alessio felt unworthy. It didn’t matter that Cora wore her heart on her sleeve. Hell, she could’ve cut the damn thing out and placed the bloody, beating muscle directly into his hands. Alessio would still have trouble accepting that somebody who looked like him could draw the attention of someone who looked like her.

Did I love this choice of man for Cora? No, but I couldn’t really talk. My taste in men wasn’t exactly Michelin Star quality.

There was nothing I wanted more than for Cora to be happy, and because true friends supported each other, if Cora decided that Alessio was the person to bring her that, then I would help where I could.

It was a slow process, but I was working on him.

There was only one way I could approach this. I had to be subtle. Discreet.

So, I plucked my phone out of my back pocket, my fingers running over the screen. Next to me, Alessio’s phone began to chime. He picked it up and opened the message.

The image of Cora had him tightening his fingers around his phone. “The fuck is this?” he asked tightly.

My fingers kept moving over my phone. Alessio’s phone continued to chime. One after another, I sent photos of Cora to the idiot who refused to admit he felt the same way she did.

“Nas,” he warned, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His fingers squeezed his cell so firmly I thought he might break the damn thing.

His phone continued to ping. I just kept on sending images and told him frankly, “I want you to look at her. Look at that face. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no idea what she sees in you, babe, but she wants you, so I’m going to keep doing this. I’m going to show you what you’re missing out on, because that woman would make you the happiest man in the entire fucking universe, but you’re too much of a pussy to claim her. And you know what, Scarfo? One day, she’s going to find a man who doesn’t push her away every time she reaches out. No, that man will be brave enough to take her hand and pierce his own heart if it would only make her happy.” His jaw tight, he stared down at the table. When his cheek ticked, I shrugged and laid it down. “It could be you, but it might not be. She’s not gonna wait around forever.”

Sending one last file, I watched his eyes train on the video of Cora biting into a cupcake. Her voice sounded, “Take the photo.”

Then me. “I’m trying. What is up with your phone?”

She scowled. “Nothing’s wrong with my phone. You’re just an idiot.”

“Wait. It’s doing something.” My laughter broke through. “Oh shit. It’s in video mode.”

Cora threw her head back, bursting into laughter. Her shoulders shook, and she attempted to cover her vanilla-buttercream-covered lips, letting out an amused, “How embarrassing.”

I zoomed in on her face and teased, “Oh yeah. Lick it up, baby.” When I said what I said next, I had a feeling she might not have appreciated my sending this to the man himself. “Come on, sweet thing. Pretend you just finished with Alessio. Lick up that cream.”

Alessio’s entire body tightened as Cora gave bedroom eyes to the camera and made a production of cleaning her lips with her little pink tongue, ending on her tinkling laughter.

Standing so quickly that the heavy mahogany chair flew backward, Alessio turned and stalked out of the room, his phone firmly gripped in his hand.

See? Subtle. Like running your nails down a chalkboard.

I could not have been the only one who peeped the growing tent in his boxers. And just because I was feeling bitchy and was sick of his moody ass, I yelled out after him, “You wouldn’t have to jerk off if you just called her.”

Uncle Laredo let out a surprised, “Nastasia!”

Thoroughly reprimanded, I shrunk in on myself and pouted. “Sorry, Unc, but it’s true.”

By my side, Davi Lobo nudged my arm, then rolled his eyes. “Men, huh?”

I almost snorted. God, he was adorable.

All I could do was grin right back at him and quietly voice my agreement.

“Men.”

* * *

Lettingpeople down was a sore spot for me. With the rest of my day free, I decided to visit a friend who I had greatly neglected. The more I thought about it, I had let my breakup with Vik affect my friendship with her. I hadn’t been to visit in quite a while, and I felt that guilt weighing down on me.

My stomach tangled as I recognized the last time I’d been to her house had been just before I ended things with her brother.

Really? Had it been that long?

Regrettably, yes.

Okay, so I hadn’t been to visit in months.

So, yeah. I was a terrible friend, I guess.

I mean, we still talked over the phone at least a couple of times a week and saw each other at work, but my heart was heavy with the realization that I hadn’t been there for her lately. What made it worse was that Anika had been a constant for me during my life, always ready to drop what she was doing if and when I needed her.

Lately, our friendship was a one-way street, leaning heavily in my favor.

That was not good enough.

I was taking a step forward to fix that and pulled into the driveway of the beautiful, big Victorian house that brought back too many memories to count. During my childhood, if I wasn’t at my own house, I was here. In our younger years, playing with dolls. Moving on to watching romantic comedies. In high school, talking about boys until the early hours of the morning. And eventually, as young adults, sleeping off a hangover until midday.

A feeling of contentment washed over me as I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. The moment the mature woman answered, I smiled sweetly and said, “Hi, Mama.”

Dropping the tea towel she was wiping her hands on, she let out a happy cry before drawing me into her arms. I went willingly, and as she wrapped me up, I chuckled while she berated me in her heavy Russian accent. “You don’t love us anymore, do you? You don’t visit for so long, and now I am an old lady. What have you been eating? You are too little, Nastasia.” She pulled back long enough to cup my cheek and smile at me before her face turned irritated. “You stay away for too long. You won’t do that again, will you?”

I loved Doroteya Nikulin. She was the mother I wished for, and although I loved my own mother in my own way, she was nothing like Doroteya. This woman gave you all of her, every warm emotion, every kind smile. Once tall and slim, Doroteya was now all soft curves as she embraced her aging body. With light-copper hair that was once flaming red and beautiful blue eyes, she was so softly spoken that it was no wonder Anika turned out the way she had. She was a carbon copy of her mom.

She pulled me into the house and called out in muddled English, “Yuri, come see who is.”

The house hadn’t changed at all. The shiny floorboards were covered in plush burgundy rugs, all with intricate patterns that screamed Russia. The furniture was a mixture of dark woods, all expensive, all hand-carved and lovely. The crystal chandelier in the hall remained, twinkling delicately as soft, colored sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. Every mantle held knickknacks. Imperial eggs, matryoshka dolls, golden-painted photo frames. It was as though they brought the motherland with them when they moved here.

Some would call it tacky.

Personally, I loved it.

She all but dragged me into the kitchen, and when she spotted her pot about to boil over, she threw her hands up and let out a quiet exclamation before rushing over to it and turning it down.

Oh damn. I knew that smell.

With my mouth watering, I asked, “You’re cooking Golubsti?”

The gorgeous matriarch smirked knowingly. “Lunch is ready. Tell Anika. She’ll be happy to see you.”

I knew this house like the back of my hand, and when I got to Anika’s bedroom, I lifted my hand to knock, but the door shot open. A tall woman with dark-copper hair and a frowning mouth blocked the doorway. She looked surprised at my presence, and when I tell you she pasted on a smile that rivalled the Cheshire cat, she did just that.

She had a husky, heavily accented voice. “I know you.”

Yeah. She was vaguely familiar. “Maybe.”

“Nastasia.” Her face softened then. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Years. Maybe you remember me? Ksenia.”

Oh my God. I did know her. How could I not?

My reservations left me as I smiled in response. “Oh wow. Hi.”

She held out her hands, and I greeted her properly. We kissed cheeks three times in the proper Russian fashion. If I were honest, I’d admit she had always given me the heebie-jeebies. There was just something so intense about Anika’s aunt. But then, she would be. As a Bratva wife, I expected it sort of came with the territory.

Compared to the firms that once existed here in America, they were a different breed in Russia. Hardcore. I could tell Ksenia had seen some shit.

“Are you visiting?” I asked politely.

Her face fell, and she released my hands. “The move is permanent, I’m afraid. My husband died six months ago. My sons have all passed on. I have no grandchildren. With nothing to keep me in Rossiya, I decided to be closer to my sister.”

Well, shit. “I’m so sorry.” That was rough.

She forced a smile. “It’s okay. My family is here now, and although I don’t have much, I claim my sisters’ children as my own. It is time for a new beginning.” I’m sure she hadn’t meant it to be, but the last statement came out foreboding and dark. With an almost regal nod, she said, “I will leave you to visit with my niece.”

She left us to it and closing the door behind me, I approached cautiously.

Anika stood in the center of her room, and while she did her best to appear happy to see me, her smile fell short. She tugged at the long sleeves of her tee, pulling the material over her fingers, looking somewhat childlike.

“Hey,” I said almost shyly.

Whatever had been building up inside her broke like a dam. Her eyes filled with tears, and she lowered her face, a single teardrop trailing her nose and falling to the floor.

Damn. A short sigh escaped me. I waited too long.

I rushed over and used my arms to cocoon her in light and safety. “I’m so sorry, Ani. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.”

“No, it’s not that.” She sniffled in my ear.

Her arms came around me, and when I felt her shaking, my protective instincts took over. I pulled back to search her face. It was pale and drawn. She looked frightened. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

The silence spoke volumes. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

“I can’t talk about it.” She wanted to. I could feel it. As if doubling down, Anika just shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me.”

What?

Who was this person?

Icouldn’t help her?

Come now. Of course I could.

As my eyes passed over her whole self, I tutted quietly, gently using my thumb to wipe away her tears. My friend was a mess. “Yeah, I can. I know just the thing.”

She knew me well enough to not have expected anything else but what came out of my mouth.

“Yeah?” Anika endeavored to smile, but it shook.

“Definitely,” I told her. “First, we’re going to make a stop at the grocery store to get some supplies. Then we’re going to go out for a girl’s night. Dinner, drinks, dancing, all the good stuff. You need to pack a bag.” I smiled tenderly. “We’re having a sleepover.”

Still overly emotional, her voice broke as she attempted to hold it together. “I’d really like that.” I didn’t know what got her so broken up, but when she looked down at herself, she burst into tears again and very nearly wailed, “Dammit. I need to shower.”

I did not like this. It was so not Anika. She was graceful, calm, and collected. I needed to dig deeper but thought it best to butter her up with dinner and booze first. “Don’t worry about it. Just pack a bag and we’re gone. You can shower at mine. Better yet”—I used my biggest bargaining chip—“I’ll run you a bath and let the jets work out some of that tension.”

Poor Anika. She sniffled, then whined, “Okay.”

I helped her pack a duffle and walked her down the hall with an arm around her. When we made it to the dining room and the entire family was sitting down for lunch, I stilled at the sight of Vik.

My mouth opened, and out dashed, “What are you doing here?”

A single dark brow rose. “Eating lunch.”

Uh…

Right, right. We were at his parents’ house. That made sense.

My cheeks flushed, but Yuri Nikulin rose from the table, and I stepped into his fatherly embrace. Tall, extremely thin, and all sharp angles, the man’s hair was more salt than pepper these days. He smiled as he hugged me, pressing a soft kiss to my brow, then gently pinching my cheek, chuckling. “Cheeky girl.” He looked to his wife and stated, “She stays away too long.”

Doroteya nodded, parroting her husband, “Too long.”

Yuri tried to lead me to the table. “Come eat. You’re too small. Men will think you don’t know how to cook, and you will never marry.”

“I tell her that. She no listens to me,” Doroteya added quickly.

My expression turned sour.

I knew how to cook.

Some.

Vik grinned down at his plate, and I wanted to pick up a fork and stab him with it.

Ksenia scoffed. “She will have no problem finding a husband. She is pretty, smart, and she looks like a girl who knows the value of family.” She sipped at her wine before training her eyes on me and asking, “How are you brothers?”

A little surprised at the question, I stuttered, “G-Good.”

I wasn’t aware Ksenia had met them. They didn’t spend as much time here as I did.

“Sasha still hasn’t taken a wife?” she enquired politely.

“No,” I told her, and that weird feeling hit me again. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what her deal was.

When she smiled, there was a darkness to it. “I’m sure he’ll find a woman when he is good and ready.” Her straight nose tilted up slightly as she looked me over. “And I’m sure you’ll find a nice Russian boy to tame soon enough.”

I smiled graciously, but I did not like the way this woman spoke to me. I also couldn’t resist saying, “He doesn’t have to be Russian.” Vik’s head snapped up, and I stared him in the eye, my smile positively frosty. “I find Russian men of this generation don’t match the men of my father’s time.”

Vik’s grip tightened on his fork, turning his knuckles white.

Shocked the shit out of me, but Ksenia began to nod. “I know what you mean, and I agree, my child. Be patient. You’ll find one.”

Vik spoke through gritted teeth. “Sit down. Eat.”

I fought a smile at his suddenly tart mood. It was handy to know I got under his skin as much as he did mine.

“We can’t. Sorry.” I stepped back, revealing a sad-looking Anika. I put my arm around her and smiled. “We’ve been apart too long, and we need a girls’ night.”

Vik took one look at her face and stood, ready to break necks. “Ani, what’s wrong?”

And my ovaries released a million eggs all at once.

Naaaw. Stupid, sexy, thoughtful Vik and his caring about his sister.

“It’s all right.” Ani smiled softly. “I’m all right. But I’m going to spend the night at Nastasia’s, if that’s okay, Mama.”

Doroteya and Yuri exchanged a look, and when Yuri nodded, Doroteya smiled widely. “Of course, beba.”

“Thank you for letting me steal away your lovely daughter.” With a wink, I teased, “I promise not to let her drink too much tonight.”

Ksenia smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “No such thing. We are Russian women. Drink the men under the table, and wear the badge of honor proudly.”

“Where are you going?” inquired Vik, and his thin lips told me he was going to stew on this.

Good.

“Out” was all I said as I took Anika’s hand, said my goodbyes, and took my friend home with me.