Page 83 of Nikola
“Obviously not, considering I look her way all the time.”
“Are you trying to start a war?” I stood up, towering over him, but nothing rattled my son. It might have to do with the fact that he was as tall and broad as me. I was proud of him, but he drove me fucking insane.
“Why? What did you hear?”
The door to my office opened and my wife, Bella, appeared, rushing to me with a soft expression. “Vasili, keep it down. I think the whole city can hear you.”
It was all I needed for my pulse to ease.
“Of course,malyshka.” I’d fucking be a rug under her feet if she asked me. But then I turned my eyes back to my replica and my molars ground before I stated through clenched teeth, “And you, Nikola… you will marry her.”
“Of course,” he drawled lazily with a victorious expression.
“Plan on getting the beating of a lifetime by your uncle though, and I sure as fuck won’t stop him,” I continued.
My wife gasped as my son and I glared at each other. Then the little shit popped the gum again, watching me with a clear challenge in his eyes. Who ever said having children was a joyous affair? More like a constant state of tension, worries, and chest pains, with a sprinkle of occasional happiness.
“I find you cheating on Skye, I’ll cut your dick off myself,” I said, sitting back down. “You’ll treat that girl with reverence and worship the ground she walks on. You hear me?”
“It’s hard not to hear you.” He popped another bubble. My blood pressure spiked again, but my wife stroked my bicep, trying to soothe me. “You’re still shouting.”
Our eyes locked in a battle of wills while I recounted my son’s upbringing in my mind. Maybe I was too demanding? Or maybe not demanding enough? Where in the fuck did I go wrong?
My wife wedged herself onto my lap, causing my son to roll his eyes. Except he couldn’t possibly know it was only thanks to his mother that he had a much better life than my siblings and I had. She was what kept our family glued together.
The door to my office opened again—it was a grand central station today—and Marietta strolled in theatrically.
Fucking lovely. I’d never survive these two together.
It would seem her drunkenness had worn off and she was back to being perky and fresh, dressed in her favorite designer clothes. Physically, our daughter was a replica of my wife, but character-wise, she was just like my sister.God fucking help me.
I’d never prayed as much as I had today.
Marietta flunked herself next to her brother and winked. “I hear you got yourself into some serious fucking shit,brat?”
“Marietta! Language, please,” Bella scolded.
Marietta rolled her eyes. “We are a family of mobsters who kill people, but you’re worried about my vocabulary. Lovely.”
Nikola patted her on the head affectionately. “Right you are,sestra, but don’t add fucking fuel to the fire. You know if you say bad words, I’ll be to blame.”
She waved her hand. “I did learn most of them from you.”
I glared at my son while he shot her an exasperated look. “If this is you helping, please don’t.”
“Nikola,” I gritted.
“Yes?”
“Put a fucking shirt on,” I thundered.
Bella patted my hand, hoping to calm me down, as she asked, “What’s with that, Nikola? Do we need to order you?—”
Marietta cut her off. “He goes around shirtless because of Skye.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
“I’m sure there is some sense in that statement somewhere, but I don’t see it,” I muttered.
