Ghost Read Online A. Zavarelli books (Boston Underworld #3)

Categories Genre: Action, Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Crime, Dark, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Boston Underworld Series by A. Zavarelli
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
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I did that.

It bothers me. And it is my fault.

As soon as I come to grips with that, he is gone.

20

Talia

Magda’s radio silence is bothering me.

She’s dressed me carefully. With a flashy black dress and tiny sheer strips of fabric that show my skin beneath. Black heels, and jewelry too. My hair is washed and curled and falling in a veil around my shoulders. Makeup carefully applied.

And yet I’m not looking at myself when she pulls me to the mirror. I’m looking at her, in the reflection.

“I told you,” I say to her reflection. “I told you I would disappoint you.”

She meets my eyes in the mirror, and her shoulders sag.

“You have not disappointed me,” she states. “You have reminded him.”

Of what, she doesn’t say. But I know now that it’s true. I’m the salt in his wound. And I should have seen it before. That Alexei is a masochist, like me. Trying to drown his sorrows in the cognac he drinks. Trying to lock himself away from the world and whatever it is he doesn’t want to face.

People cope in different ways.

And when those ways are not what society deems respectable, then you are pushed even further to the fringes. Like Alexei. And like me.

They all want me to be scared. To be timid and soft. To whimper and cry when men touch me.

Only, I want the men to touch me. I want them to fuel my self-hatred. And I use them to do it. I want to use Alexei too. I want him to fuck me and use and degrade me like the trash that I am. Like the trash society always said I was. It would make me feel better. I crave that validation from him.

But when I look at Magda right now that isn’t what I see in her eyes. It isn’t shame, or frustration, or the inability to understand. It’s the complete opposite of all of those things. It is love and acceptance.

My lip trembles, and I want to push her away. The way that I always do. Because hope is the most dangerous thing of all.

“Come here, child.”

She pulls me against her and hugs me. And I don’t know what to do. So I just let her. There is pressure behind my eyes, but I won’t allow it to seep out. My throat aches from the years of repressed words and emotions I have not given voice to. The deep insecurities embedded in my DNA.

“He chose me because he knew he could only ever hate me,” I tell her. “Because I remind him of what he doesn’t want to remember.”

“It isn’t that simple,” Magda tells me. “You are more alike than you know.”

She takes me by the hand and leads me from the room. Downstairs to the sitting room. Where Alexei is sitting on the sofa, his back towards us. Glass of cognac in hand.

Magda shifts uncomfortably as though she is second guessing herself. And then she turns to me, her face severe.

“I am going to tell you something about Alexei,” she says. “That you must never divulge to anyone outside of this house. Something that requires absolute trust and faith, Miss Talia. Because this information could hurt him if you ever expose it. Do you understand?”

“Then why tell me at all?” I ask.

“Because you need to know. And he is too ashamed to tell you himself. But perhaps it will make you see.”

I remain quiet and watch as she makes a gesture with her hand.

“Call out to him.”

“Why?”

I move my gaze over his figure on the sofa. Tall and strong, but desperately alone. His posture is defeated. Tired. He is not ten feet away from us, and still he has not turned.

“Alyoshka,” Magda calls out.

Nothing. There’s no response. No movement from him at all. It’s as if we are not even in the room.

“You try,” she tells me.

“Alexei,” I call out.

No response. So I try again, louder.

“Alexei!”

Nothing.

Magda reaches down and pats my hand. “He isn’t ignoring you, Miss Talia.”

Her words leave the necessary unsaid. And I stare at the back of his head in confusion. How could I have not seen it?

“He reads lips?”

“He reads everything on your face,” Magda answers. “But if you are very close to him, and you speak into his right ear, he can hear a little bit.”

It makes sense now. The truth is so incredibly simple. Right in front of me all along.

Alexei cannot hear. This is why he keeps himself locked away in his house. He doesn’t want anyone to know his secret. Because in the mafia, in his world, that secret would be a weakness.

And I suddenly find myself wondering if he sees himself as weak too. If this is why he chose me. Because we are both flawed and damaged.

“It will be a long evening for you,” Magda tells me. “You should go upstairs and relax until the party starts.”


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