Ghost (Boston Underworld #3) - A. Zavarelli Page 0,80
with his Vory brethren and a wife like me, feeling as though he will never fit in. And maybe it’s selfish of me, but I hope he never does. I hope he never realizes how much better he could do than the likes of me.
Franco’s phone rings, interrupting the game. He speaks in short and precise sentences, giving Alexei a nod before he steps outside.
“How long do you think he’ll be gone for?” I ask.
“Not long enough for what you have in mind,” Alexei answers, wheeling his chair closer.
“You mean what you have in mind,” I retort. “Pervert.”
I reach for his hand that rests on my thigh. With an empty space reserved for another tattoo. One he has not added yet. An idea strikes me as I grab a pen from his desk. One that will probably reveal too much. But I do it anyway. And he lets me.
Pressing the ink to his skin, I write my name in that space. The one I feel like I have a claim on.
“When do you get my name carved in your skin?” I ask.
“Soon,” he answers. “If that is what you wish.”
I have an opportunity here. To be vulnerable. Or to keep my armor in place.
I did not think I could ever choose vulnerable again. But I do.
“I would like that,” I tell him.
He wraps his arms around me and presses his face against my belly, peppering it with little kisses. My hands move through his hair, mussing it up before he pulls my face down to kiss him.
“Lyoshka,” I murmur against his lips.
“Yes, my sweet?”
“You are so hot.”
He smiles at me.
“I don’t think I ever tell you,” I continue. “But you’re hot, and you should know it.”
He grabs my chin and his eyes flick from my mouth to meet my gaze.
“Solnyshko,” he says sincerely. “You terrify me.”
I swallow, and he kisses me softly.
“I know,” I tell him. “Because you terrify me too.”
43
Alexei
Just as I do every month on the 3rd, I arrive at a Vory owned club for the usual meeting. The meeting where we discuss numbers and operations and anything else that Viktor adds to the agenda.
And just as I do every month, I set up the flash drive in the computer downstairs and prepare the projector.
This is the way things are always done. The same routine I have performed as long as I have been Sovietnik.
And then we drink. Always for about thirty minutes or so until all of the Vory have arrived. We discuss business and ask after the other’s family members.
It is the way things are always done.
Only, this evening is different.
This evening, I am betrayed.
When Viktor calls the meeting to order, he directs one of the Boyeviks to operate the presentation as he always does. I take my seat beside him, prepared to discuss the details of our gambling operations.
What I am not prepared for is what comes up on the computer.
“What is this, Lyoshenka?” Viktor asks.
I stare at the video in confusion. It is from my own home. A video I have not seen before. From a low quality camera placed somewhere in my own sitting room.
I am on the couch. And Talia and Magda are behind me, near the stairs. Magda is telling her something. And it looks like Talia is calling out to me, but I can’t be sure. I don’t turn around, and Talia’s face fills with confusion as she tries again.
“Turn it off,” I demand.
The Boyevik is fumbling with the computer, removing the flash drive, but the film doesn’t stop.
Viktor is rigid beside me, and I know that my worst fear is confirmed.
Someone has just made a mockery of me in front of all the other Vory. Someone has announced my defect for all of them to see.
Instinctively, my eyes move to Sergei.
Viktor stands up beside me. Yelling something.
When I glance back at the screen, I’m moving across the room myself before I can make sense of what I’m seeing.
Images of Talia. Strung out and being fucked by other men.
And then one last single slide appears before I tear the computer from the table myself.
How does it feel to know your beloved Sovietnik is deaf and married to a whore?
I smash it against the wall. Until nothing but pieces remain. Viktor clears the room, but not before I see all of their eyes on me. Questioning me. Doubting me.
The rage inside of me cannot be contained.
I smash my fist through the wall four times before Viktor shakes me out of it.