Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(27)

The door swings open, and it’s not better or worse than I imagined. It just is. A brutal punch to the chest would be more favorable than witnessing him this way. Legs spread wide, his dick is in her mouth while his eyes find mine.

She gets his pleasure, and I get the pain.

I was wrong to think I could protect myself from him. He doesn’t need to take my body to ruin me.

Because he just did.





When I arrive back from the city, I’m greeted by the smell of roast and vegetables, a reminder that soon my brother will be joining us for dinner. This meeting is important, but I find myself regretting that I made it for this evening. I’m still hungover from last night’s activities, and entertaining is the last thing on my mind.

Nonna catches me in the entryway, gesturing for my coat and hat.

“Is Nakya ready?” I ask.

She nods. “I helped her dress earlier, now she is resting.”

“Thank you.” I move for the stairs. A hot shower is in order, and perhaps a small hair of the dog. But Nonna isn’t prepared to let me have either.

“The doctor wanted me to pass along a message.”

I pause. “What is the message?”

“The girl had a setback today. She refused to take her breakfast, vomited what she ate at lunch, and would not speak at all during her therapy session.”

Each statement is a blade to my gut, but Nonna doesn’t seem to notice as she delivers her words with deliberate efficiency. She goes on to tell me that Tanaka did not go to the gym today either, which she found rather odd.

“I will address it.”

Nonna nods and leaves the room, and I take the stairs. She told me Nakya was sleeping, and I’m tempted to see for myself. But my palm hesitates on the door while I listen for a sound inside. There isn’t one, and like a coward, I’m satisfied enough to open the door.

I find the broken angel lying in the center of her oversized bed. She is curled into herself, hands tucked against her chest, and even in sleep, she appears tormented. I should leave her alone—it’s for the best—but I can’t bring myself to shut the door. Not when I notice the goose bumps on her exposed arms. According to her doctor, it’s a symptom of her condition. She is always cold because she does not have enough body fat.

Retrieving the throw blanket from the end of the bed, I am careful to drape it over her without waking her. And then I am careful to watch her for no good reason, regretting every decision I’ve ever made.

It would be foolish of me to wonder if my actions had any effect on her. I wouldn’t say it’s the first time I’ve hurt a woman’s feelings, but it’s the first time I’ve had to see their face again. This is unchartered territory. Nakya is stuck here with me, and I knew that she would see. I wanted her to see. I wanted her to hear.

Petty, perhaps, but after her cold dismissal in my bedroom, I wanted to be petty. From the beginning, she has been open with her feelings about me. She believes me to be filthy. She believes I am not worthy of someone like her.

Who could ever want you?

Maybe she is right. But it didn’t stop me from wanting her when she came to me, wearing the clothes that I bought her. Floating like an angel, only to sting like a bee when her senses caught up with her.

Since her arrival, I have struggled to maintain my distance. Women are a valuable commodity in my world, and I rarely make an effort to get what I want from them. It takes little more than a look. A touch. A smile. It has always been easy for me, and it would be falsely humble to say otherwise.

But it hasn’t been common practice for me to bring my conquests here. That is something new. Something I started for the sake of my own amusement. I like to watch Tanaka squirm. I like to get my dick sucked knowing she’s just down the hall, hearing every second of it.

At times, I have caught myself wondering if she spares a second thought about my activities. If she wishes even for a second that she were the girl on her knees, taking what I offer her. I have imagined it more than I should. The thoughts ravage me even while I resort to choking my dick with my own fist like I’m a teenager again.

She didn’t pull away from me last night. Not at first. I felt the fire in her skin. The strain of her nipples against my fingers. The soaked pussy between her thighs when I rubbed her virgin panties. For a fleeting moment, she wanted me too. And now, she will only ever see me as filthy again.

Her dark lashes flutter open, and I’m caught staring. The warmth in her honey eyes fractures, and she visibly recoils at the narrow distance between us. She can hardly look at me, and I don’t blame her.

“Have I overslept?” Her voice is dead, her beautiful face plagued with sorrow.

“No. We still have an hour.”

She is quiet, and I am too. I have no explanation for my being here. I only know that I need to leave before I get any closer. She doesn’t need to smell the alcohol or perfume on my clothes.

She doesn’t need another reason to hate me.

“If you come to my office now, you can make your phone call.”

She sits up in bed.

And just like that, everything else is forgotten.





Nikolai lumbers down the hallway, leaving a faint wake of smoke and perfume in his path. His shirt is wrinkled, and his eyes are bloodshot, and I don’t want to consider what’s kept him occupied in his absence, but I can’t seem to stop anyway.