Page 21 of Wicked Serve

“We’re prepared to make you a very generous offer.”

For a moment, I consider telling him about my deal with Grandfather, but as much as I’d love to shock him, he’d just find a way to turn it around for his benefit. In truth, the Sharks organization wasn’t thrilled to hear about my expulsion, but I’m a talented enough prospect that they let it slide—provided I have a good season with McKee and continue to show progress. I should have told them to forget it, but I couldn’t make myself open the door to that conversation. Not yet, anyway. Some delusional part of me must think there’s a chance I can convince Grandfather to change his mind.

“No amount of money will ever make me say yes to playing for you.” I say the words in English, practically spitting them out. “I’d rather play for nothing than wear your jersey.”

“Everyone has a price, Kolya.”

At the sound of the old diminutive for my name, my heart nearly stops. It’s a speck of affection, barely anything, and yet it resonates with me like a half-remembered dream.

“Don’t. Don’t—call me that.”

“It’s your name, no? The name I gave you.” His voice is a soft blanket. “Nikolasha, I remember how tiny you were when I first held you.”

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper. My fingers go numb. I curl and uncurl them, trying to get the feeling back.

He’s manipulating me. He’s sour that he lost me to Grandfather when Mom divorced him, and he wants me back. As long as I remember that, I’m safe. He can’t hurt me again, whether it’s with fists or velvet-wrapped words.

A girl with long, dark hair rounds the corner. Yellow tank top. White denim skirt. Volleyball bag.

Isabelle.

“If everyone has a price, you’ll have to try harder to find mine.”

I don’t wait to hear his reply. I end the call and run down the hallway. Isabelle’s eyes widen when she notices me, stopping in her tracks even though she nearly collides with a guy carrying a stack of books.

“Nik? What’s going on?”

She started calling me Nik all on her own, just like I called her Isabelle from our first conversation. Nik isn’t Kolya, but I love it even more because it belongs to her. Kolya is a dagger, but Nik is a kiss.

I try to find the right words to set her at ease without getting into the phone call, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I just shake my head.

“Let’s—here.” She yanks me into the nearest closet, shutting the door before tossing her bag aside. “What’s going on? Who were you talking to?”

My throat feels as if it’s being welded shut. I shake my head again. “It’s nothing. Just... nothing. I’m fine.”

She cups my jaw. “You can talk to me.”

Her blue eyes are wide with concern. I turn my face into her palm, chest twinging sharply at the ghost of affection. “I can’t.”

“Nik.”

“I can’t,” I repeat, voice cracking.

She pushes closer. I tremble at her warmth, overcome with the desire to hold her. I fumble for the doorknob, but before I can turn it, she reaches up on her tiptoes and brushes her lips to mine.

My mind short-circuits as I breathe in her perfume. Bright, delicate citrus, like always. I whirl us around, pinning her against the door. She fists her hand in my shirt, urging me into another kiss.

“You’re okay,” she whispers.

I guide her onto her tiptoes. When I run my hands over her hips and thighs, she gets the idea and hooks her legs around my waist. I groan at the shift in position, dropping my head to her shoulder. The looming panic attack ebbs away, bit by bit.

“One more time,” I murmur against her neck. It’s selfish to ask this of her, but I can’t help myself. “Distract me. Please, Isabelle.”

She nods, tangling her hand in my hair and giving it a tug. I kiss her again, openmouthed and openly desperate. I feel her smile against my lips like she missed this as much as me; as if the other day at the coffee shop wasn’t nearly enough.

This is so much better than arguing with Dad or trying to forget Grandfather’s plans for me. It’s the one thing in this whole situation that’s bearable. She made the world fall away all summer, and she’s doing it again right now with each kiss and each scratch of her nails down my back. I pull down her shirt, giving me access to her tits. Her nails dig in as she gasps. My dick throbs.

I hope she leaves marks with her pink manicure.

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