Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,28

freely with him. Most men would not attempt it. But most men don’t know all of Viktor’s secrets. And they are expendable. I am not.

“I am just stating facts,” he says. “No self-respecting man would want other men’s…”

He makes a gesture with his hand, searching for the right word. “Leftovers.”

Beneath the desk, my hand is shaking with the force of my anger. Outwardly, I remain calm. This is the way Viktor speaks of all women. Normally, it does not bother me in the slightest. But I don’t want him speaking that way about Talia.

“She had no choice in the matter,” I tell him.

“And she does now?” he raises a brow at me. “I would like to speak to the girl myself. Understand what it is that made her agree to such an arrangement.”

“You will not be speaking to her.”

He finishes his drink and rises to his feet. “I will,” he says. “But it can wait. Perhaps another time. Meanwhile, you will need to break the news to Anatoly.”

“There are plenty of suitable matches within the Vory,” I inform him. “Perhaps even Nikolai.”

Viktor gives me a curious look, but I maintain a neutral expression.

“Yes, perhaps even Nikolai,” Viktor says. “After all, he has Sergei’s approval. And his ears are intact too, no?”

“It has nothing to do with that.”

“I certainly hope not,” he tells me. “Forever is a long time to lie in the bed you’ve made.”

When Viktor has gone, I chase his departure with two glasses of cognac. And then I go to check on Talia.

Only, I find her in the hall. Her hand hovered over a burning candle, searing her skin. Emotionless eyes meet mine, and she does not attempt to hide her self-mutilation. Her face is once more cast in a shadow of despondency.

She heard.

I move towards her and remove her hand from the flame before leaning down to blow the candle out. I take her by the arm and walk her back to her room.

Not a word is spoken between us as I apply salve to the burn and she watches me. The questions are in her eyes, but I don’t know how to answer them.

Why did I marry her?

She wants to know. I owe her answers. I want her to know that I do not believe what Viktor said of her. I should tell her. What I give her instead is a soft kiss on the forehead before tucking her into bed.

Yesterday, she smiled. And today, she wants to die all over again.

Because of me.

15

Talia

I’ve taken to roaming the house at night. When everyone is asleep, and it’s only me and the moon to keep me company. Sometimes, Alexei is still in his office. Passed out on his desk.

He drinks often at night, reliving his own memories, I think. I want to know the ghosts of his past. The things that haunt him. If only to take the focus off of my own demons for once.

Tonight, when I peek through his doorway, hidden in shadows, I find something else entirely.

He is sitting at his desk, but he is not asleep. His pants are unzipped, and he is gripping his cock in his fist. Pleasuring himself. His eyes are closed, his head leaned back against the chair. The muscles of his forearm tense with each harsh pull, and a jolt shoots through my body at the sight.

Sex has always been a coping mechanism for me. The only way I could connect to a man. I want to connect with Alexei. I want him to want to fuck me.

But then his friend Viktor’s words filter through my mind.

Dirty. Filthy. Whore.

That’s what I am. Why would Alexei want me?

I wonder who it is he thinks of when he pleasures himself. My husband.

Katya?

I don’t know who she is. But the very name produces a fire inside of me that I can’t put out.

Alexei grunts, and his hips flex upwards. I slide my fingers into my shorts and breach the barrier of my panties. Already, I am wet for him. I touch myself while I watch him.

His breathing is changing. Growing harsher. Faster. He’s almost there. And I’m nowhere near it.

I can’t get myself off anymore. It’s been too long since I’ve even tried. But I want to touch. To feel. To watch this secret part of him that he keeps hidden away. Someone in their most vulnerable and intimate moments.

He is jerking himself roughly. Angrily. At war with his lust. Something is holding him back from his pleasure. With a frustrated