Chapter Three #2
“She was an ex-girlfriend,” he says, dropping his eyes to his hands and not looking up again for a few seconds. “She cheated on me with him and intentionally got pregnant after telling me that she didn’t want kids.”
“And you blame him?” I ask.
“I guess in part, yeah. If he hadn’t come around…”
“You’d still be together?” I ask.
“No, but she would at least have brain function. She wouldn’t have all of the bones in her face broken. He took a bat to her face… and bragged about it. She might have been a bitch, but no one deserves that.”
“He did,” I say. “Right? If no one deserves that, then he didn’t either. So, is it selective on who deserves to have their face beaten in? Is there a grading system for what justice a person deserves? What do you deserve?”
“Are you always this annoying?” he asks with a frown.
“Not always,” I reply with a smile. “My point is, Vik, you don’t get to play judge, jury, and executioner.”
“I can, and I do!” he shouts, his mood flipping. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“No, but if I want to, all I’d have to do is point out that you very clearly have daddy issues,” I say.
“Stop,” he growls.
“I’m guessing everyone thought your father was a great man, but he wasn’t. He beat your mother, just like that man did to your ex. He reminded you of your father, and she of your mother, so you saved your mother. You did for your ex what no one did for your mom,” I continue.
“Shut up, Ada,” he screams at me as he stands.
“How old were you when she died?” I ask.
“She’s not dead. Stop talking about her,” he demands, stepping close to me. He is close enough that I have to sit back to look up at him.
“You can sit on the ottoman if you’d rather be closer,” I say calmly. He’s not mad at me, but he thinks he is. I can see the guilt building in his eyes already. Viktor sits on the ottoman in front of me, but has his elbows resting on his knees so he can drop his head and look down.
I sit back and wait for him to speak. He is moving through memories of his childhood, and I don’t want to interrupt that. He is calm now, telling me it wasn’t anger that just surfaced—it was pain.
“He used to beat her black and blue, but then he would hide her away in the house so no one would see,” Vik says quietly.
“He convinced everyone that she was sickly and couldn’t get out often.
I was taught to keep my mouth shut… When I was twenty-five…
she nearly died. A nurse called me and said she was in surgery for a brain bleed…
I told her I’d be there as soon as I could, but I went to see my father.
I knew he did it. I got there, and her blood was still on the floor. ”
“Vik,” I say. He looks up at me and has tears in his eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
“I killed him,” Vik says calmly. “He was shit-faced, so I put his gun in his hand, stuck the barrel in his mouth, and made him pull the trigger.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“I went to see my mom,” he says, wiping away the evidence that he was ever crying, and sits back. “It was ruled a suicide, and now Mom can live in peace.”
“Does anyone else know you killed him?” I ask.
“Just you.”
“Why did you tell me?” I ask.
“Because you are nosy,” he says with a frown, making me laugh. “I don’t know, honestly. You definitely know how to piss a man off, though.”
“So I’ve been told,” I say sweetly. “How do you feel about having to see me six days a week?”
“It will be a nice break, honestly,” he says.
“Do you want to know what I think?”
“...maybe…”
“I don’t think you have anger management issues,” I say. “You obviously find it important to appear bulletproof, and I just challenged that. You yelled, but it wasn’t at me. You tried to intimidate me, but guilt hit you before you could even get that far… I think you just need to relax.”
“Are you going to help me relax, Ada?” he asks.
“What is your idea of relaxing?” I ask seriously.
“Having a pretty girl on my cock begging for mercy,” he says. “Consensually, of course.”
“I find it interesting that you specified consent,” I say.
“Well, you are in a building alone with me. I am blocking your only exit, and I could very easily overpower you,” he remarks. “Although I could have you lying on that couch with that pretty ass in the air while I fuck you, I figured you might appreciate knowing that consent does matter to me.”
I have so many things I can say that would keep this therapeutic, but I just stare at him instead.
His smirk grows into a grin, and the longer he stares at me, the hotter my face gets.
He is seeing how long it will take before I submit and look away.
I feel like crawling out of my skin. It doesn’t feel natural staring him down like this.
“Have you always been hypersexual?” I ask.
“Do you always get this flustered when a man challenges your dominance?” he asks.
“Why do you keep deflecting?”
“Okay,” he says, still smiling. Fuck, he has a nice smile, too. “I have used sex as an outlet for stress for a long time. I have a gift for being able to get any woman to sleep with me.”
“So you don’t like being told no,” I say.
“I don’t mind,” he says. “There will always be another that will say yes.”
“And when they do?” I ask.
“Are you asking me how I fuck them, Ada?” he asks, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Usually hard and rough. They will often come hard enough to make them detach from reality.”
“You are very confident in yourself,” I say, trying not to fucking drool all over the place.
“I am confident that if my cock can’t make her come, my mouth will,” he says. “There is nothing better than a thick and delicious woman sitting on my face.”
I really should tell him this is becoming inappropriate, but I think he is doing this for a reason. He’s trying to gain my trust by showing restraint, but it’s a show. Is he compensating, or is he just that vulgar? Maybe both.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say.
“Why did you lie to Andre?” he asks. “I’m confused why you want me to be honest, but you aren’t.”
“Because my personal life is none of his concern,” I say. “He will dig and make things worse.”
“That sounds like…”
“Vik,” I say with a warning.
“It sounds like you are scared of something,” he says anyway.
“How about this?” I say cautiously. “You tell me facts about yourself, and I will tell you something about myself.”
“Okay,” he says. “How about a show of good faith? Might I remind you that I cried for you on day one?”
“Mhmm,” I say with a smile. “My boyfriend also stole my parents’ wedding bands. They were the last things I had left of them, and now he is holding them over my head.”
“Why?” he asks. “What does he gain?”
“He knows I won’t walk away until I have them back,” I say. “He’s manipulative.”
“Clearly,” he says. “What if he pawned them?”
“I… didn’t think of that,” I say. “I guess I could look around at shops and see if I can find them.”
“How would you know if it’s theirs?”
“It has their anniversary engraved on the inside of the band,” I explain. “Since I was late, I won’t make you stay the full hour.”
“Okay,” he says. “So five?”
“Yes. If you want to join group, it’s on Tuesday and Thursday at four,” I tell him.
“What number do I call if I need to call you?” he asks.
“The phone number they listed on the paperwork is my personal number. You can call or text anytime you need,” I say. “And I mean that. No one is immune to needing someone to talk to when they’re in a low spot. I have no problem driving out to meet or talk to you.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’ll trick you into having dinner with me,” he laughs.
“If you feel the need to trick me into dinner, it’s either because you actually want me around or because you don’t want to feel alone. Either way, I pay for myself. I mean it when I say I am available to help.”
“Do you offer that to all of your clients, Ada?”
“The ones I’m not afraid will stuff me into a trunk, yeah,” I laugh. “If someone makes me uncomfortable, I will only see them here and during business hours so that I am not the only one in here.”
“But you feel safe with me?” he asks.
“Is this a genuine question?” I ask.
“Yes,” he laughs.
“I do feel safe with you. Andre and Archer are weirdly protective of me and have gotten more intense in the last six months. I don’t think they would let you be alone with me if you weren’t safe.”
“Well, I’ll be good,” he says. “For now.”
“For now,” I parrot with a laugh.