Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(23)

“Yours? And Viktor has approved of this?”

“It’s nothing more than entertainment,” I correct. “A temporary distraction. But I don’t care to share her.”

Sergei strikes out at me like a snake, his fingers wrapping around my throat. “You might be Viktor’s little pet now, but don’t forget where you came from, syn. If you ever disrespect me again, I will take this news to Viktor and watch him destroy your plaything after she has been passed around to all of the brothers.”

As the spittle flies from his mouth, so do Sergei’s true colors. This is not the father who boasts endlessly of my accomplishments in false showmanship. This is the competitor. The man who sets the bar to impossible standards. The man who will offer his hand to save you, only to rip your throat out. And with a face so similar to mine, I wonder if he is truly capable of the horrors I have always questioned.

He had no reservations about ousting Alexei and his mother from the family home after tragedy reaped his hearing. It’s hard to conceive that a man who hates his firstborn so much could possibly harbor any love for his second. These things I know to be true, but I still hesitate to believe he sent my mother away.

It would be easier to accept if she left on her own. If she abandoned me to a year’s worth of tears, I could justify whatever fate befell her. But Sergei is not the type of man who would allow a woman to embarrass him by walking away. When I search his lifeless eyes, I conclude he is not the type of man I can respect at all. And when I pry his fingers from my throat, it’s with a new resolve.

I must find my answers, and I must do it fast.





“Nika, the doctor would like to have a word with you.”

I hold up a finger to signal the interruption, and Alexei nods from the small video screen on my phone. Nonna is at the door with the therapist in tow. This is not what I want to deal with right now. It’s not what I want to deal with at all. I pay her good money to help Nakya, and she should not be bothering me with it when I have made it a point to avoid the situation altogether.

“I have some business that needs my attention,” I tell Alexei. “Will you come by tomorrow evening?”

He hesitates, but after a moment, he agrees. When I disconnect the call, I am left to wonder if it’s merely out of Vory obligation or familial.

My eyes move to the door again. “What is the problem?”

The therapist nods at Nonna, who shuts the door behind her as she steps inside and takes a seat across from my desk. “I would like to discuss Tanaka’s progress with you.”

“That is your concern,” I say. “Not mine.”

“You are paying me to give her the best possible treatment. Are you not interested to know if it’s working?”

I drum my fingers across the desk. Truthfully, I am better left in the dark. The girl means nothing to me, and in the end, she is simply leverage. The only leverage I have. I shouldn’t even be wasting my time or resources to fix the issues her father no doubt caused. It doesn’t make any sense, considering I told myself from the beginning I might end her life.

But the problem does weigh heavy on my mind. More than it should. I wonder if she’s eating on her own. I wonder about the current state of her health. I have been careful to avoid her, and I have kept myself busy so that the cameras don’t tempt me. All for nothing because now the doctor wants to discuss it with me.

I lean back in the chair and examine the therapist. Her name is Sarah, and though she was recommended as a trustworthy source by Dr. Shtein, she seems like too much of a greenhorn to me. Her face is young and hopeful, and I think she’d do better working with college students than criminal organizations.

“Do you need more money?”

She sighs. “The rate hasn’t changed. That isn’t the issue.”

“Then what is it? I am a busy man.”

“Tanaka is progressing well.” She fidgets with the hem of her blazer while she repeats the speech she’s prepared for me. “There have been setbacks, of course, which is only natural, but she’s doing much better. She is fully invested in the nutritional aspect of her meals and has been interested in learning the new program the nutritionist has set up for her.”

“So what is the problem?” I repeat.

“We can only do so much,” Sarah says. “Tanaka needs a support system outside of her medical professionals. If you truly want her to recover, I think it will give her the best chance.”

My foot beats an anxious tempo beneath the desk. “What would you suggest?”

“Tanaka has lived under a unique set of circumstances for the duration of her life. Essentially, she has never experienced basic human rights of passage. She has never dated a boy or gone to the movies or walked through a park on her own. Her schooling further isolated her, and even in her ballet company, she was kept separate from the other dancers. There is a deep sorrow inside her that she hides well, but it’s there. Every aspect of her life has been outside her control. Everything but her food and her dancing. It’s no surprise that she has taken them to the extreme.”

I lean forward, propping my elbows against the desk. “So she is starving herself to prove that she can?”

“It’s not really that black and white.” Sarah frowns. “But yes. Her ability to control something in her own way is a huge thing for her. The root of her issue is fear. In her mind, she thinks if she gains weight, she will lose what’s most important to her, which is dancing.”