Lost in a Reverie 18+ Only (Book 1 of Lastor Series) ['23/'24 EDIT]

Chapter 23

I sat behind the desk, my face emotionless as I watched Viktor, the prick who came here every second week of the month to collect a fraction of the bar's profits from the beer sales, count the money I had handed him.

I'd stopped offering to buy him out of the contract since it became clear he got off on me asking. I would kill him, but it wouldn't render the contract void and my people did business with his Boss. It would be too much trouble, dealing with a war against these people.

After a moment, he placed the bills back in the envelope before tucking it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He lifted his eyes, meeting mine.

"You seem to be a few dollars short, Red," he said, his voice calm and leveled.

I took out the log book from the drawer and dropped it on the table.

"We had to do some repairs in the rest rooms."

He didn't even spare it a glance as he offered a tight smile, barely enough to mend the horrifying scar that went from his jaw to his collar bone in a slant. I'd left that after he pulled out a gun on me when I denied his sexual advances a few years back. He got pissed. Really bad. But it only got him aroused, if not, more. The prick was a self-proclaimed sadist.

Too bad I didn't do crazy fuckers who liked to get bloody when fucking. I had my limits. This ain't American Psycho and he was no Christian Bale.

"I see," he said but I knew he didn't like it.

It was never good when Viktor didn't like something. I didn't have the energy or patience to deal with one of his tantrums.

"We'll have the rest added on next month's collection," I assured him.

He nodded in satisfaction. He knew I never went back on my word, even though Mikey was known otherwise. That's why I had to save his ass from these people a few years ago.

He had owed them a shit ton of money since he was stupid enough to ask the fucking Mafia to help finance the production of his beer, offering them a 25% share on the profits in fucking perpuity. If Mindy hadn't come barging in on MJ and I fucking in a bathroom stall while they were collecting on Mikey's overdue payments, he would have had his head blown off.

By the time I'd arrived in the office, they had already taken his fucking knees. I whipped out my cheque book from my bag, asking how much Mikey owed them. Viktor merely laughed, saying they didn't do business with pretty little girls and he sure as hell wasn't accepting a check. I lost my shit and, after properly introducing myself with a knife, I demanded for the price. When he told me, I nearly slit his throat. I would have if Mindy hadn't been there.

They were going out of their way to try and kill the fool for a measly seventy-five thousand godforsaken dollars. I made more in a fucking week doing nothing.

I wired the money from one of my accounts right then and there, with an extra zero as a gesture of good will and fuck you. Mikey had kicked up a fuss even as he was lying crippled on the floor and I knocked him out with the bat they'd used to break his knees just so he got it to his damn head that this shit was life and death.

And now here I was, doing shady deals under the table for people I had unintentionally attached myself to.

Ever since I paid for Mikey's life, I had been the only person Viktor did business with. MJ was too easily provoked, Mindy was too young, and Mikey's been crippled by the fuckers. Which was why I was dreading to have to talk to MJ about my move to England for medical school by the end of the summer.

Viktor stood, effectively ending this business meeting. "I'll see you next month then."

I nodded, getting to my feet. "Send my regards to Stefano."