Page 17 of Deviant Need

He grunts and steps back, shrugs me off. “You can get a ride home, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll sort something out.”

He gives me this small, tired smile before opening the door. Music blasts in from the club and then cuts off abruptly when the door clicks shut behind him. I walk over to the safe and pull out the document I had tucked inside my sweater, shoving it back where it belongs and closing it with a solid click.

Cursing under my breath, I cross to my desk and yank the drawer open harder than necessary. I need to take the edge off before dealing with Vincent, or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.

My hand goes straight to the bag tucked in the back, pulling it out and dumping coke onto the desk, then scrape it into a line with my card and lean down, pinching one nostril shut as I snort it fast. The buzz hits almost instantly, that familiar rush flooding my system and settling the chaos in my head. I scrape out another line, longer this time, and take it without hesitation. The burn’s worse, but I ignore it, straightening up and wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

There. Now I can deal with this asshole without wanting to put my fist through his face.

He’s in one of the booths with his usual crowd. A few guys I don’t recognize, some girls draped all over him. The whole booth reeks of expensive cologne and alcohol.

He glances up when I approach. “Mikhail. Sit. We’re celebrating.”

One of the girls immediately slides over, tries to make room next to her. “You should sit here.”

“I’ll stand,” I say flatly.

Vincent laughs. “Always so serious. Relax, have a drink.”

“I’m good. You wanted to see me about the fight?”

“You know who you’re up against?”

“Some Brazilian guy. Tiago, right?”

Vincent’s smile turns wider. “He’s been running his mouth. Says you’re getting soft, that he’ll put you down in the first round.” He leans forward. “I don’t like hearing that about my star fighter.”

“He can say whatever he wants. Won’t change the outcome.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He slides something across the table. Small bag with pills in it. “Little pick me up. Good stuff.”

I look at it, then back at him. The coke’s already making me feel amped up. “I’m good.”

“Come on, Mikhail. Don’t insult me. Take it.”

Sighing, I drop down into the booth. It’s been forever since I’ve hooked up with anyone. I’ve never been the relationship type because I can’t stand it when they try to stay over the next morning or act like it meant something beyond what it was. For me it’s just physical. Getting it out of my system.

I swear every time I’m about to hook up with someone, Daniil cockblocks me. Without fail, something happens. He’ll have a meltdown, or there’s suddenly some crisis that needs me right that second and can’t wait five fucking minutes. It’s like he has a sixth sense for when I’m about to get laid.

Tonight though, I’m not feeling it at all. I hate the way this girl keeps staring at me from across the table, trying to catch my eye like I’m supposed to be interested. I pick up the bag and pop two pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry.

“Good man.” Vincent grins and leans back. “Now, about the fight.”

The blonde next to me tries to slide closer, and I shift away without looking at her.

“This one’s different, Mikhail. Higher stakes. But I need to know you’re still hungry for it.”

“I’m always hungry for it,” I grit out.

“That’s what I want to hear.”

My jaw clenches tight, and I lean back, staring up at the ceiling. I should’ve just gone home with him instead of staying here. Now I’m stuck dealing with this.

Chapter 4

Daniil