Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,20
the bed again. I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling, tracing over the patterns there with a finger while he watches me.
“What will you do with me?” I ask.
“I am keeping you,” is his reply.
His words don’t affect me one way or the other. Which seems to disturb him more than anything when I meet his concerned gaze. I’m back to myself now. To the familiar state of despondency. Even without the pills. And it pleases me. That I can stay numb forever, maybe. It will make it easier this way.
“Would you like to call Mack?” he asks.
“I don’t know who that is,” I answer.
He tilts his head to the side, examining me. After a moment, he seems to have decided something.
“You feel she has betrayed you?”
“I don’t feel anything.”
His lips press together and he nods.
“I will come for you tomorrow,” he tells me.
And then he leaves the room.
9
Alexei
Franco and Magda are both watching me with matching expressions of concern on their faces. I ignore them and toss back the cognac in my glass.
“Everything ready?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” Franco replies. “He’s waiting in your office.”
“Talia is bathed and dressed,” Magda adds.
I nod and check my reflection in the mirror. I’m nervous, but it isn’t obvious to anyone but me. If there was another alternative, I’d like to believe I would take it. I tell myself that what I’m doing is best for the girl. For Talia. She will be safe here with me. Out in the world full of monsters and wolves, she would not survive.
This is what I tell myself as I make a gesture with my hand for the others to move to my office. Magda hesitates.
“Mr. Nikolaev, may I be excused from the occasion?”
Her face leaves little doubt to what she thinks of this. She does not agree with it. Magda has strong maternal instincts, and she feels protective of Talia. Just as she was protective of me when I was a boy with nobody else to rely on.
“No,” I tell her. “Talia will want you there.”
She wipes her hands down her dress, smoothing it out before giving me a soft nod. “Very well.”
Her and Franco head to my office and leave me to gather Talia. When I step into the threshold of her doorway, I find her curled up in the chair by the window. Her ankles are crossed, and her pale white fingers clutching a book between them. She’s staring at the pages, but I don’t think the words are even registering. Her mind is far away. Somewhere that nobody else can ever hurt her again. The chair swallows up her tiny frame, and the deadness in her eyes scares even me. There is still much work to be done with her.
Her gaze moves from the pages to me. The expression on her face never changes. She is always flat, despondent. Just as I knew she would be. It is the very reason I told myself she would be perfect. But looking at her now, I need more from her. I need to see a spark in her eyes. Something that tells me there is still a sign of life inside of her.
“I need you to come with me,” I tell her.
She doesn’t argue. Her thoughts and actions have not been her own for so long, it is an automatic response on her part when she rises and moves towards me. I could be leading her to her death, and still she would not argue. In fact, she would probably celebrate. It is the thing she believes she wants.
Magda has dressed her in a white lace gown. She looks pure, even though we both know she is not. She also looks like a haunted angel. Still too thin and sporting dark rings beneath her eyes. But she is beautiful, nonetheless. Her blonde hair is long and falls into her eyes, like a shield against the world. She doesn’t want others to see her. She can’t even stand to look at herself. A fact evident by the still covered mirror in her bathroom.
These are all things I knew and expected in my mind, but I’m not certain I can accept them as I once thought I could. I want to shake her out of it. Demand that she feel something. But I know it is not yet time for that.
So instead, I reach forward and smooth the errant strands of hair back behind her ears, leaving her face fully exposed. A flicker of