GHOST (Boston Underworld Book 3) (19 page)

T
anaka is here with Nikolai
. And I am glad.

She is probably the only woman at this party who is actually happy for me. The only woman who does not wear a fake smile for me.

“How are you?” she hugs me, and it is a warm embrace.

“I am well,” I answer her.

Her eyes move over my face, and her smile fades. “You can’t fool me with that act.”

“The better question is how are you?” My eyes move across the room, to Nikolai. “Any news on your father?”

“No,” she sighs. “But Nikolai is taking good care of me.”

Right now, it appears as though he is trying to fend off more of Katya’s advances though. When Tanaka turns, she dismisses the interaction with a wave of her hand.

“That is just Katya,” she says. “She is desperate for a high ranking husband and now that Nikolai has been promoted, she has her target set on him.”

“Does it not worry you?” I ask.

“Why should it?” she replies. “My fate will be written one way or another. I have no say in it. This is the Vory way.”

“I suppose it is,” I answer her, knowing she is right.

“I was raised in this world,” she tells me. “It does not bother me so much. It must appear strange to you though. All of these arranged marriages. Women as payment. Collateral. We are simply pieces on a board in the game of men.”

“But you have feelings for Nikolai?” I ask.

She glances down at her shoes, and for just a moment, her cool demeanor crumbles.

“My feelings don’t matter. I will accept whoever they choose for me. They are all good and decent men, despite their outdated practices. You will never find a husband who holds his wife in higher regard than a Vor does.”

The way she speaks makes it sound so simple. She has accepted her circumstances without a fight. The way I accepted mine when I came here. How has so much changed since then?

“You are one of the lucky ones,” Tanaka tells me, her eyes moving behind me as she leans in. “Your husband can’t take his eyes off of you.”

“Only because he fears I will pounce on Nikolai or one of the others the moment he has his back turned.”

Tanaka laughs and it lightens the mood. “It is in their nature to be possessive. But that is not why he can’t take his eyes off of you. He cares for you.”

I don’t argue with her, and I try to forget she mentioned it at all.

“What do you do?” I ask. “At Nikolai’s?”

“Probably the same thing you do here,” she answers. “Flit around the house all day and keep myself occupied.”

I nod, and the man in question steps up beside her, finally evading Katya it seems. I don’t know the protocol for such things, especially in Tanaka’s situation, but I decide to make a bold suggestion.

“Will you let me borrow Tanaka?” I ask. “For a day? She can help me decorate the nursery.”

My suggestion pleases and surprises Nikolai.

“Of course.” He nods.

His gaze moves to her, and they seem to be under each other’s spell for a brief moment. My heart aches.

And then Magda announces dinner.

It is a long affair. With a lot of different toasts, some in English, a lot in Russian. I don’t understand all of the sentiments, but I appreciate them.

Alexei is at my side, taking them all with a respectful nod. Until it is Sergei’s turn. He toasts to the baby’s good health. But the tone of his voice suggests otherwise.

And I realize this is a dig at Alexei. At his hearing.

And I don’t understand this man. This father. The one who has made it so difficult for Alexei to allow himself to care about anyone or anything. I realize this is why he must keep himself locked in his house. Away from the world and people like Sergei.

His father tossed him away like trash. Told him that he was defective. Even here now, beside me with all these men who respect him, he is not comfortable. I wonder if he still feels that way. I wonder if he is afraid like me. Afraid to let me in, for fear I will do the same. Like his mother. And like Katya too.

The present distance between my husband and I is immeasurable, but I lessen it by reaching for his hand beneath the table. A silent show of solidarity. That he is not alone in this world. That even if he can’t ever love me, I understand him. And I am loyal to him.

His fingers close around mine, warm and strong. He accepts what I offer him, and I think he is grateful for it.

And then Nikolai takes it upon himself to interrupt his father, standing up to make his own toast. When he meets Alexei’s gaze, there is remorse in his. It is clear how much Nikolai respects his brother, even if he has not shown it in the past.

I wonder if Alexei can see that. If he can see how much Nikolai admires him. How much so many of these men at the table admire him. Or if he can only ever see that his own father doesn’t.

“To new beginnings.” Nikolai raises his glass. “I know you will both make great parents. This child is blessed already. Like with everything he does, I have no doubt Lyoshka will lead by example. Setting the bar high for all other Vory who enter fatherhood after him. And to Talia. He could not have picked a woman better suited than you to take this journey with. I wish you both the best.”

He glances at Sergei, who is grinding his jaw with the false smile he wears.

“To my family,” Nikolai finishes.

The rest of the table toasts, and Alexei shifts in his chair beside me. It has not escaped my attention that he’s hardly touched his beloved cognac tonight. And I wonder why.

Once Magda has cleared the table, we all move back to the sitting room. And Alexei does not allow me to leave his side for the rest of the evening. Instead, he pulls me directly into his lap and carries on a conversation with several of the other men while he touches me.

At first, it is innocent. A stroke of his palm on my arm. A kiss of his lips on my neck. His fingers brush over the brand on my hand. His name and his star. A not so subtle reminder for both of us who I belong to. He touches it often when we’re in the company of others. I think it’s a comfort to him knowing that it’s there.

It’s a comfort to me too.

My body shivers for him, and longs for him too. It has been too long since he touched me. But he did not return to me after my last rejection. And now he can’t seem to control himself, even in the room full of company. Where he knows I will not reject him.

I wonder if this is why he’s doing it.

But he has to feel it. Feel my body coming alive for him.

My dress is flared at the waist, with a large skirt. Alexei takes full advantage of this by sliding his hand beneath the material and squeezing my ass in his palm. He finds the material of my thong, pulling it up in the back so that it rides against my front.

I shift my weight on top of him and feel his own discomfort beneath me. His free hand comes around my front, wrapping around my waist and pulling me back against his chest.

The conversation around us continues, and Alexei speaks when appropriate, even as his hand moves between my thighs. His voice deepens slightly when he feels the wetness there. And then his fingers are inside of me. Playing with me while he talks with his friends.

It is so dirty and filthy and wrong. And I love it.

I love that he’s doing this with me.

But then he stops and pulls his fingers out of me abruptly, wiping them on my leg. He makes some sort of excuse in Russian, and then lifts me off his lap, still half dazed as he takes my hand in his.

He leads me into the kitchen and promptly sets me up on the counter where anyone could walk in and see us. And then he kneels before me and puts his head up my skirt, yanking my ass towards him and eating me out.

I come hard after only a few minutes without any pain. This pleases Alexei.

“Your husband is hard for you,” he tells me. “It is your job to take care of that.”

“I want to take care of that,” I answer him.

“And I want to spank you for denying me,” he replies as his fingers brush over my face. “But you would enjoy that too much.”

It’s true, so I don’t argue with him on that.

“Now open your legs for me,” he demands. “Your legs should always be open for me.”

I spread them as far as I can to let him in. And he rewards me with his cock, inside of me. Fucking me in the kitchen while our guests continue to drink in the other room. He seems to have an affinity for this. I recall the same thing happening in his office the last time they were here.

He assaults my lips and wrecks my hair that Magda worked so hard on. I wreck his too, with my own fingers.

And then something catches my attention over his shoulder.

Katya.

She is watching him fuck me. And she is angry.

I meet her gaze and hold it while Alexei thrusts into me.

“He treats you like the whore you are,” she tells me, knowing full well he can’t hear her.

“And he loves every second of it,” I reply.

My words alert Alexei to someone else’s presence. He glances over his shoulder at Katya and does not bother to acknowledge her. Instead he grabs my hips and pulls me as deep as my body will take him. Coming inside of me with the same simple word he always gives me.

“Mine.”

And then he kisses me. Tenderly. Passionately.

I don’t know when Katya left. Only that she did at some point. But I still worry about her. Worry that even my pregnancy is not an obstacle for her. She still considers Alexei on the market.

“Why is she always at these parties?” I ask him.

“She is Anatoly’s daughter,” he answers. “Do not worry about her, Solnyshko. It is only you that I want.”

“That isn’t what I’m worried about,” I tell him.

“She is harmless,” he says, trying to put me at ease.

But I don’t think she is. I saw the look in her eyes tonight. Like I was nothing more than trash that needed to be disposed of.

Alexei doesn’t allow me to breathe any more life into my worries.

“You will sleep in my bed tonight,” he orders. “It has been far too long since I’ve been inside of my wife.”

When I look up into his pale blue eyes, I can’t deny him.

“Okay, Lyoshka.”

W
hen all of
the guests have gone, Alexei and I retire to his room for the evening.

There is no question what he wants when he grabs me around the waist and hauls my body against his, kissing me roughly.

I come up for air when he starts in on my throat, grazing the skin with his teeth.

“You did not have very much to drink tonight,” I remark.

The vibrations of my voice alert him that I’ve spoken, but it is clear he missed it. So when his eyes find mine, I repeat it once more.

“I drink as much as any other Vor,” he tells me. “But it displeases you, no?”

“What does it matter?” I ask him.

“I want my wife to be happy,” he answers sincerely. “And perhaps you are right. I should be focused on other things now.”

What other things, he doesn’t say.

But his phone starts beeping and vibrating across the room, and doesn’t stop, even as he continues to maul me. I tap him on the arm to get his attention.

“Your phone is going off.”

“Ignore it,” he answers me with another kiss.

But it doesn’t stop. And after another full minute, he finally turns to check it. And then he frowns. I see him bring up the security system on the house. The same cameras he has in his office.

He pockets the phone and returns to me with a completely different demeanor than only a moment ago. This is Alexei, the Vor.

“There is nothing to be concerned about,” he tells me in a calm voice. “But we have an unexpected guest. I’m going to see what he wants.”

He kisses me on the cheek and grips my chin. “I am locking the door behind me.”

I nod, but I’m curious who is here. And I don’t really want him to go. But I know that he has to. He moves to his closet and grabs his holster and gun, shrugging it on before he locks the door behind him.

And I wait. Moving towards the window to see if I can get a glimpse of anything from up here.

There’s a car parked in front of the house. Franco is already outside, and it looks like he’s arguing with someone. But it’s too dark to see what’s going on.

So I walk around Alexei’s room and examine his things to keep my mind occupied. The furnishings are sturdy and well made. In his closet, I find much of the same as he always wears. An assortment of gray and black trousers, sweaters, button downs, and suede jackets. At least five pairs of oxfords, and several different flat caps.

The man finds something he likes and sticks with it.

I bring one of his undershirts that is draped over the cupboard to my nose and inhale. It smells of him. Oak and cloves. I have an urge to take off my dress and put it on. But with the unexpected company downstairs, I decide to wait.

Which turns out for the best. Because a few moments later, I hear voices in the outside hall. On the same floor. One of the accents is familiar and unmistakably Irish. It makes me curious, but I can’t peek outside.

So I wait. And walk around the room some more. On Alexei’s dresser, I find a cracked chess piece. I’ve often seen him playing with it in his office when he is contemplating something. Staring at it as he moves his fingers over the ridges. It is old. And no doubt it holds some sort of memory for him.

I wonder what it is.

The door opens, and I quickly set it aside. Alexei’s eyes find mine, and he steps inside.

“No need to worry, my sweet. It is an acquaintance. He is wounded, but Franco is tending to him. I will be as well.”

“Okay.”

“You should get some sleep,” he tells me. “Keep the bed warm for me.”

I nod, and he comes to kiss me on the lips again. It confuses me, how he can be so sweet. So thoughtful at times. How he can look at me the way he is right now. Like he doesn’t want to leave.

“I want you naked,” he tells me. “When I return.”

“I thought you said to get some sleep.” I smile up at him.

“I will wake you.” He shrugs. “You’ll have plenty of sleep until then. Now I must go, Solnyshko.”

He kisses me again and then leaves. I wait until his footsteps have retreated down the hall, and then I peek through the door. And I am surprised to see two familiar faces here.

Sasha and Rory.

One of the men from the Irish syndicate who owned the club I worked at. And one of the dancers too. It seems odd to me that they are here. And I feel the strangest pull to go to them. To inquire about Mack.

But my fear keeps me rooted in place.

In my head, I tell myself that she is happy now. That she is better off. That she would never in a million years be able to accept what I’ve done. Even if she herself married the man she swore was an awful human based solely on her judgment of his reputation.

I want to know why she married him. If she has changed so radically since I knew her. If she is okay. And if she is genuinely happy.

But I am terrified to let her see me.

She will see right through my act. She will tell me the hard truths as she always does. That Alexei does not love me and he never will. That I am stupid for allowing myself to carry his child.

She will judge me.

And as much as I love Mack, I cannot handle that right now.

It is while I am lost in these thoughts that the door shuts down the hall, and I realize too late that Sasha is walking in my direction.

I shut the door and sit on the bed, hoping she didn’t see me. But I know she did.

And it isn’t a minute later that the door creaks open.

Her eyes go wide when she sees me. And all of my defenses go up, preparing for battle.

“Talia?”

I don’t reply. My mouth is dry and I’m dizzy. I feel like she can see all of the wrong and bad parts of me. All of the things that happened while I was gone. And I understand now why I felt safe with Alexei from the beginning. Because he didn’t know me before.

But Sasha did. And she can see that I’m not the same. That I’m broken and damaged and… wrong.

“Do you remember me?” she asks.

My heart is beating too fast. Too loud. My palms are clammy. And the memories are swirling around in my brain. My last days at the club. How I was so happy when Dmitri came to see me. How excited I was for our time in Mexico.

I don’t want to remember. And she is bringing it all back. This girl who used to know me.

“Of course I remember you,” I snap. “I’m not brain dead.”

“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” she says. “You do know that, right?”

I want to tell her I am dead. That as far as anyone who knew me in my old life goes, I no longer exist. But I don’t. I can’t get the words out. I can’t stop thinking about Mack. Because I know she’s thinking about her too. I can see it in her eyes. It’s ripping me apart. I want to ask her so many things. I want to ask if Mack is really happy. If she hates me. But I don’t.

I shrug. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.

“Do you realize what this has done to Mack?” she asks me. “She’s been sick over this whole situation for months. Do you have any idea what she went through to try to get you back?”

The guilt weighs heavy on me. But it’s too soon. I can’t deal with this now. I’m not ready to face that part of my life again.

“I don’t want to go back there.”

“Okay…” She sighs. “But can’t you call her? Let her know you’re alright?”

“She won’t understand,” I try to explain. “Mack has never understood. She’ll want the girl back that she lost. But I’m not her anymore. I’ll never be her again.”

“So you’re just going to let her think you’re dead?” she demands. “She was your best friend.”

She was. And I care for her. I know my actions don’t show it. That Sasha can’t understand it. But how can I explain it when I don’t understand it myself?

“I’m going to tell her,” she says. “She’s my friend too. And I can’t let her go on thinking that you’re dead when you’re not. It isn’t right.”

“Do what you have to,” is my reply.

Sasha edges back towards the door, and I breathe a little at seeing her retreat. At seeing my past ebb away and preserving my safe little bubble where the present cannot collide with it.

“Are you okay here?” she asks. “Are you safe?”

“Yes. Alexei is very good to me. I don’t want to leave him.”

“Okay,” she says. “Would you like my number though? Just in case?”

I shake my head.

And she walks out the door.