Viktor

I drift back to consciousness as a soft voice answers a tinny, grating voice from far away.

“No, that’s too low. We could cover the crew’s salaries for that, but how would we pay for fuel and maintenance?”

“I’ll fly the missions,” Joey Diamonte’s voice replies.

“No, you won’t. You have to get paid too.”

“But it’s—”

“I don’t care if it’s a mission to prove alien life exists on Jupiter, you’re not stretching yourself that thin. And who are we competing with anyway? If they can’t pay us what we’re worth, they can go fuck themselves. You get what you pay for, and I refuse to ask our crew to take any less in salary. They earn every penny, and we both know it.”

“So we take a hit on one contract. We’re building our reputation. The gains from this—”

“No. Let someone else take it. Trust me on this one, Joey. My gut says it’ll be ugly. There’ll be another contract to build our reputation.”

I blink awake and find Peach on the floor, her back to the other couch, legs propped up while she talks to Joey and consults her computer. The lights have been dimmed, so only her two screens illuminate the room. I’ve no idea the hour, but no light filters in through the windows, so it must be quite late.

“Oh, yeah. Look. Did you see the government contact? No fucking way. I’ve dealt with him before. There’s not enough money in the world to get me near him.”

“Peach…you’re not exactly near him.”

She rubs her palm over her forehead, her frustration palpable. “I don’t want you near him.”

Joey snorts. “I think I can handle an asshole or two.”

“Can you? Yes. Should you? No. Not when he’s the one who’s going to change contract terms last-minute and demand things we can’t deliver even remotely close to budget. Either one of us works with him, and that little balloon ride I took will look like a romp in the park. One of us will end up in jail for rearranging his face, I guarantee it. Hard no, Joey. We’re not bidding.”

“We need something. We lost the Magellian contract.”

“Fuck. How? Who else has a plane and availability?”

“I’m waiting for the call about someone subcontracting ours.”

Peach sputters something unintelligible.

“I’ll handle it,” Joey announces. I’ve heard that tone, and I suspect she’ll soon be threatening to remove someone’s intestines and strangling them with their own entrails if said someone attempts to cheat her. “Stop popping a blood vessel and tell me about your wedding plans.”

“Since when do you tell me to stop popping a blood vessel?” Peach replies.

“You’re avoiding the question. Is your dress big and ugly and horrific?”

“I don’t know. Some woman took my measurements a few weeks ago. I think I’m supposed to see the damage sometime soon.”

“You haven’t seen your dress?”

“You got married on the beach in shorts.”

“Yeah, but Zeus is only the king of his little imaginary world, while Viktor’s the king of a real country. The entire world is going to be watching.”

“Thank you so much for the reminder.”

My heart sputters a protest at her dry sarcasm, and it strikes me that the greatest indignity of love is that feeling it for another person does not obligate them to feel it back.

“Do I need to come pick you up?” Joey demands.

“No. We’re good. You should’ve seen Papaya tonight. We did family lip sync battle, and she was just…” Peach breaks off and swipes her eyes. She clears her throat and shakes her head with a wry smile. “It’s still really hard for her with the language barrier, but I’ve been meeting all the other parents at the school, and I don’t even care if they’re all working with me just because Viktor’s the king, they’re listening and understanding and talking about their own issues with raising kids. Like we’re all in this together instead of everything being Papaya’s fault. Like she’s finally starting on even footing.”

I rouse myself and move, because I shouldn’t be listening in to a private conversation. Peach lifts her head, and though I doubt she can see my features clearly with all the glare coming off her phone and computer, she smiles my direction anyway.

And though I know ‘tis impossible, my heart stops for a breath of sheer pleasure at the sight of her smiling at me.

Could she love me?

I’ve no idea. We have neither the history nor the trust she’s built with Joey and Gracie over the years.

But she’s here.

Tonight.

“Mister Sleepyhead’s waking up,” she tells Joey. “I’m going to get him to bed. Can you check on Meemaw for me tomorrow?”

“I’ll send Zeus.”

Both women crack up, and I assume I’m missing a private joke, though it’s easy enough to imagine Zeus and Meemaw settled on a couch watching questionable television shows and drinking beer together. Peach blows a kiss and waves at the screen. “Love you and miss you, snuggle bunny.”

“You are so disgusting,” Joey replies.

Peach is laughing as she hangs up. She stands and stretches, revealing a stretch of peach skin between her shirt and her pajama bottoms, and my knob stirs in anticipation.

“C’mon, King Snorasaurus.” She approaches with a hand outstretched. “Anyone who can sleep through Alexander lip syncing AC/DC needs to go to bed.”

I take her hand, but instead of letting her pull me up, I pull her down to me. She shrieks softly, but as soon as she’s on the couch, she shifts so she’s straddling me.

“Who won your horrific dance contest?” I inquire as I tangle my fingers in her ponytail.

“Your mum. She has mad skills with the eighties dance moves.”

This woman makes me smile more than I’ve ever wanted to smile in my entire life. “You have quite the moves yourself, my lady.”

“You’re only saying that because you were picturing me naked.”

“Quite right.”

She laughs again as she leans in and kisses me.

But kissing her lips is not enough. Not nearly enough. I wish to trace every curve of her body, to kiss every inch of her, to make her gasp and moan in pleasure.

To leave her so fully sated—mind, body, and soul—that she never wants to leave.

I came here with a mission to put the love back in Amoria.

But it seems Amoria is putting the love back in me.