GHOST (Boston Underworld Book 3) (12 page)

I
t snowed this morning
.

And I convinced Magda to let me outside to see it. Her answer came only after she received permission from Alexei.

I know he’s watching me from the window above. I saw his face when I laid down on the ground.

“Miss Talia,” Magda chides me, but I ignore her.

I stare up at the sky and let the flakes fall onto my skin, even catching a few on my tongue. My arms and legs move to the sides, making a perfect snow angel. And then I get up and repeat the process four more times. When I am on my fifth, I open my eyes to meet ice cold blue.

Alexei.

“You made one too many,” he remarks, as if he knows anything about my mind.

“No, it’s exactly right.”

His face hardens and he does not try to hide his disdain for my attitude. He has barely spoken to me since he fucked me two nights ago. Since he told me the worst thing he could have said to someone like me.

No, not even someone like me. Just me.

I’m as insane as my own mother was. I cannot be a mother. I will destroy everything I love. Just like she did.

I am poison.

I told Alexei as much in my panicked state. He disregarded it entirely. Instead, he kissed me and dressed me and brought me back down to the party, filled with his come and looking more like the girl who first arrived than the one who was supposed to be his wife.

The sight did nothing to sway Katya’s determination. In fact, it only seemed to strengthen it. She is not willing to give him up, married or not.

Again, I wonder why he is not with her. He clearly loved her. She wanted to be his wife. Probably would have bore his children. And she is not nearly half as insane as I am.

When I look up at him now, hovering above me I almost tell him so. That he should rethink what he has done. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.

It’s just as well, because he stoops down to gather my chilled body into his arms, carrying me like a child back inside the house. I cling to him, letting his warmth surround me as he carries me up the stairs. He takes me straight into my bathroom and sets me on the counter, undressing me.

He walks to the shower and turns it on, testing the water on his palm while I watch. His head reaches above the glass doors, and I wonder what his own shower looks like.

“How tall are you?” I ask when he comes back to retrieve me.

He lifts me back into his arms and watches me while he speaks.

“Six feet six,” he replies.

I nod, because it was close to what I had guessed. I only stand at five foot three, so there is always a large gap between us when I look up at him.

He takes me to the shower and sets me inside, and I stand beneath the hot spray, letting it soak into my muscles. After a few moments, the door opens again, and Alexei is behind me. Naked. Pulling my body into his while he kisses my neck.

Without further delay, one of his hands comes around my front and slides down my stomach, dipping between my thighs.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he tells me.

“Okay.”

“But first I want to play with you. Bend over and grab your ankles.”

It isn’t easy, but I do as he asks. And it feels vulnerable, in this position. Having his eyes on the most intimate part of me. His touch is soft at first. Feeling the wetness already between my legs from being in his proximity.

Always wet for him. Like the whore I like to tell him I am.

“You like it when I play with you like a toy?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“I like it too,” he tells me.

And then he spanks me. Three times on each side. So hard he has to grab my wrists to keep me from falling forward.

When he’s done, he pulls me back into a standing position and slips his fingers between my parted thighs again. Testing my response to him. I’m alive for him. Ready for anything else he wants to give me.

He pulls my hand behind me to wrap it around his cock. And I’m stroking him while he fingers me. Neither of us facing each other. I am glad. Because right now, I don’t want him to see the things he can see so well.

How scared I am. How vulnerable I feel. How the war raging on in my mind tells me I need more pain. Anything to escape the other feelings building inside of me. The feeling of trust and comfort and safety when I’m in his arms. They aren’t real. They are like sand, always shifting beneath me.

“Please,” I whisper, but I know he can’t hear me.

Alexei doesn’t need to hear me though. He knows me. Too well. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it’s true.

He grabs hold of my hair in his fist and pulls my head back in a forceful grip so that I have to meet his gaze while his other hand moves up to pinch my nipple. I hiss and jerk against him and he repeats the process on the other side.

“You need to do better,” he tells me. “I cannot always give you pain, my sweet. I don’t want to spoil you.”

Even as he says the words, I know he’s a liar. He would give me anything that I asked for. So long as he is in control of it. He likes to control me just as much as I like him to.

He resumes his previous activities of fingering me while he kisses all over my shoulder and back while he holds me in place. I lean my head back against his shoulder and watch him watching me. His cock is sandwiched between my ass cheeks, hard and ready for me. His other hand is on my breast, kneading it before he reaches around to suck on it.

I come for him.

It doesn’t even take me long this time. When my eyes open again, I meet his.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks.

“I’m wondering if you had my IUD removed,” I give him an honest answer, and his reply is the same.

“I did.”

“And I’m wondering if you’re going to come inside of me again.”

“I am.”

“I can’t get pregnant,” I tell him.

“You will.”

And that’s the end of the conversation. Because now I’m pressed back up against the shower wall, my hips in his hands as he pushes his cock inside of me.

He lowers his head to within an inch of mine and hovers there, his eyes burning into mine.

“Mine.”

“Yours,” I whisper.

“Kiss me,” he demands.

I do. I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. His tongue invades my mouth and seizes mine while his hips move in time to the masculine grunts erupting from his throat.

I wonder if he can hear them. Hear any of this.

When I come up for air, I find his right ear with my lips. And I kiss him there, and then stay, so he can hear my sounds. So he can hear what little I have to give him.

He swells inside of me. He’s about to come. So he pauses again. Just sliding in and out of me in the slowest way.

His voice is thick and rough when he speaks. “Talk to me,” he murmurs into my hair. “I want to hear your voice.”

It’s a vulnerable request for him. And I respect him for it.

I bring my lips closer to his ear, kissing him and then asking a vulnerable question of my own.

“Do you like your women insane?”

He pulls back just enough for me to see the smile on his face.

“Obviously,” he replies.

And then he kisses me again.

“I like your insanity,” I tell him. “And I like the way you fuck me. I like the way you make it all go away.”

He pauses mid thrust and comes hard inside of me. Filling me once again. I close my eyes and shudder, terrified and… something else I can’t explain.

When he moves back to stare at me, his expression is relaxed and determined.

“I’m going to fuck you every day.”

He grabs my face and kisses me hard.

“And you won’t ever remember anything else.”

I
expect
him to leave me when he’s done with me.

Because Alexei has his own issues. He tells me he won’t love me. And I believe him. He will always keep me at arm’s length.

Fucking me and loving me are two different things.

He loved Katya. And now he will never want to love anyone else again. Because she poisoned him somehow. And I can’t fix him, just as he can’t fix me.

We really are alike.

I watch him as he rifles through my closet. Through the racks of designer clothing that I haven’t so much as touched. He’s wearing nothing but his trousers, his back muscles stretching and expanding with every movement. His tattoos on full display.

Sometimes, I don’t think they suit his personality.

I know he probably scares most. That is his intention. But I know the real Alexei. The recluse who remains in his home and plays chess and sits at his computer most of the day. The one who is quiet and reserved and honest.

He doesn’t need to put on a show to be a threat. His body is strong, but I have no doubt it is his mind that is his most dangerous weapon of all.

He returns to me with a simple black sheath dress and holds it against my pale skin before nodding his approval.

“Black suits you.”

He helps me to dress. The way he often takes care of me. I wonder why he does it. He knows I am capable. But here he is, dressing me. Stitching my wounds when I bleed. Showering me. Bringing me in from the cold.

They are little things. But nobody has ever done these things for me.

I can’t look away from him, but I know that I need to. So when he retrieves a brush and starts in on my hair, I take it from his hands.

“I can do it myself.”

He nods, but doesn’t leave.

Only once I am finished do I learn his motives for lingering.

“There is something I need you to do.”

“Okay.”

I turn towards him, and his eyes meet mine. Sometimes, I still forget that he can’t hear me. That I need to face him when I speak. But he just pretends, the way he does with everyone else.

“You won’t like it,” he adds.

“Tell me what it is.”

“You need to speak to Mack.”

“No.”

My chest is tight. And there is pressure behind my eyes. Just the mention of her name brings an enormous wave of shame and guilt over me. She can’t ever see me like this. She won’t understand. And I will only disappoint her all over again. I keep touching the star on my hand. Hoping for the comfort, but it doesn’t come. Because he’s the one who is doing this to me. Bringing this up.

“She was married today,” he tells me. “Consider it a wedding gift. Some peace of mind for a friend who is loyal to you.”

“I know she is loyal,” I snap at him. “Don’t act like you know our relationship. Like you know anything about me, or her for that matter.”

“I know enough,” he tells me. “She did come to me, after all. She is the reason you are here now. Away from Arman.”

I turn away because I don’t want him to bear witness to the tears that are now spilling down my cheeks. But I know he knows they are there. He doesn’t attempt to give me false comfort. Or come near me. Which I respect.

I know what I’m doing isn’t fair. I know it’s selfish.

But Mack won’t be able to accept this. Accept what I’ve become.

She’ll try to fix me.

Just like she’s always done.

I was bad then, but now… the damage is irreparable.

I pace towards the window and tap on the bulletproof glass, gathering my thoughts. I know what I need to do. I know what the right thing is. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

I turn and find Alexei, waiting for me to finish doing battle inside of my head.

“I’m not going back to Boston.”

“You aren’t,” he agrees. “You are my wife now, Solnyshko. Which means I am responsible for your safety. And I will never ask you to do anything that puts you in harm’s way.”

His tone is low and serious. As if protecting me is more important to him than anything else. But it doesn’t make sense. For a man who considers himself incapable of love. For the husband who is married to me in name only.

“Why?” I ask him. “Why does it mean so much to you?”

“Because you are my wife. And that is what husbands must do. They should put family above all else.”

I tilt my head to the side and examine him, another piece of the puzzle that is Alexei falling into place.

“You mean the way that your father didn’t?”

He blinks, startled by my response. And in that instant, I know I’m exactly right.

“Do not speak of things that you don’t understand,” he tells me. “And never mention my father again.”

“So it’s okay for you to push me into things that make me uncomfortable, but not the other way around? That seems fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Solnyshko,” he answers. “You know this better than anyone.”

The room goes silent as we face off. My husband and I. This man that I’m only beginning to know. And yet, he reads me like no other. Perhaps it works both ways. Perhaps the damaged like us have a way of spotting that same wound in another.

And right now, I want to poke at his. To avoid the topic at hand.

“I don’t even know who my father was,” I volunteer. “None of us did. They were all different, but the same. Absent.”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you,” he answers tersely. “No matter what you volunteer. You forget these are things I already know about you.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” I tell him. “But there’s a difference between me telling you, and you reading it from a file.”

“It makes no difference to me.”

His words burn me, but I don’t show it. I never show anyone they have the power to hurt me anymore.

“Why do you accept it so easily?” he asks, stalking closer to me. “Why do you not put up a fight when a man you don’t even know tells you that you will be married? And you will live here in this house, with a stranger. And yet, you cannot even bring yourself to speak with the one person who knows you best?”

“Because she doesn’t know me best,” I answer quietly. “She doesn’t know me at all.”

I try to turn away, but he grabs my wrist and halts me.

“Why?”

I blink up at him, and I have the sudden urge to hate him again. He is such a hypocrite. Demanding these things of me. These answers. When he will not give me the same in return.

“How could she?” I ask him. “How can anyone, if they have not walked the same path? How can someone understand what it is like for you not to hear when they themselves have only ever had perfectly functioning ears?”

He doesn’t answer. So I answer myself.

“They can’t. They can’t understand these things, and yet, they feel like they have the right to judge you for them. To ask you to change who you are. To fix what cannot be fixed.”

I’ve given too much away, I realize, when I meet his gaze again… and find complete understanding staring back at me.

Alexei takes my hands in his and brushes his fingers over my palms. He can see now why I’m here. Why I didn’t put up a fight. Because he accepted me as I am, from the moment he took me in. He never asked me to change. To pretend that I am normal. Or that I’m okay. Until now.

“You don’t need to be fixed, Solnyshko,” he tells me. “But you can’t avoid your feelings forever. You believe that you would rather face death than your fears. But this is not the way it works.”

“Why not?” I ask him. “You do.”

“I am not avoiding anything,” he lies boldly. “I have simply accepted what is.”

“And so have I.”

“No,” he argues. “You haven’t. You have simply numbed yourself.”

He taps me on the head and then grips my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up so that he has complete access to my every emotion.

“It is a defense mechanism. The brain, is a wonderful thing. Can survive any trauma by doing this. But your traumas are over. It is time now to process them. To feel.”

I swallow, and he takes me by the hand. Leading me down the hall to his office. I don’t fight him. Because we both know the entire conversation was just my attempt at delaying the inevitable.

He sits down in his chair and then pulls me into his lap and drags the phone closer. He doesn’t make me do anything. Anything at all.

He simply dials the number and hands me the phone.

“Simply tell her you are safe,” he says. “And anything else you wish to say.”

It rings for a long time. And every sound is like a jackhammer to my ears and my armor. I’m shaking in Alexei’s arms, and he is rubbing my back in a soothing gesture. There are tears in my eyes. And then the muffled sound of someone answering.

“Hello?”

My lips are sticking together, and it takes me three attempts to get her name out.

“Mack?”

There’s a long pause, and the guilt is stabbing at my heart. The one I swore I no longer had. She sounds so scared. So nervous that this is some sort of a sick joke. That it can’t be real. And I know now, she thought I was dead. She thought I was lost forever.

Because I was too much of a coward to tell her otherwise. She deserves so much better than this. Than me. She deserves everything I could never be to her.

“Talia?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s me.”

“Are you okay?” she asks. “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” I answer. “I can’t talk very long though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…” My voice cracks, and I can barely speak. I’m going to break. Any second now. I’m going to break completely. And it isn’t fair to Mack. I can’t let her hear me cry. The best thing I can do for her is to let her believe I’m okay. The way she always wanted me to be. “I just wanted you to know that I’m okay. And that you shouldn’t worry about me anymore.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about you?” she demands.

“I’m safe,” I repeat. “And I’m not coming home.”

“Talia…”

“I have to go, Mack,” I tell her. “I just wanted to say congratulations on your wedding. And that I love you, and I miss you so much. But I’m okay now, and I have you to thank for that.”

It’s the last sentence I can manage to get out before my resolve breaks and I disconnect the line.