Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(33)

The shadows darkening her eyes don’t inspire confidence, but I’m not privy to her current mental state. The last I saw of her was the night I stole into her room and sampled her virgin pussy. I can still taste it on my lips, and against my better judgment, I still want more.

“I don’t know what the future looks like,” Nakya says finally. Her voice is bleak, and I fear that the little dancer has lost her light for good.

“Do you see yourself back onstage? Or perhaps in love? Married? Children? What does the future look like for you?”

She takes too long to answer, and I should not feel so desperate to hear the words spoken from her lips. But more and more, I find that I want to know her. I want to tame the chaos in her mind, and that is a problem.

“I was supposed to marry a man who works for my father.” Nakya tugs at the corner of the wrapper on her bottle. “But now I don’t think I will.”

“Does that upset you?” Sarah asks.

It’s the question I would have asked myself, had I believed she’d give me an honest answer. Nakya is not na?ve to the surveillance at my disposal, but regardless, she has been forthcoming during her sessions. She probably assumes that I have better things to do than watch her, which would be correct. Yet here I am.

“The decision was made for me already,” Nakya says. “But I do not love Dante as a wife should love her husband.”

Her answer leaves me to question her authenticity when so many times, she has chosen to use Dante as her invisible shield. At every opportunity, she has thrown him in my face. If she does not love him, I can only draw one conclusion from her actions. She will do anything to keep me away.

“And how do you think a wife should love her husband?” Sarah asks.

“In my world, love doesn’t exist,” Nakya answers softly. “Marriage is a duty, and little more. It means remaining devout to your husband while turning a blind eye to his extracurricular activities. Dedicating your life to being small and insignificant, while he reigns supreme. How can love ever be nurtured in such an environment?”

Sarah is quiet for a moment, tapping her pen against her notepad. She knows she must tread carefully here. Being on my payroll, she is aware of all that implies. She can help Tanaka talk through her emotions, but she must avoid making suggestions.

“Do you think perhaps you would like to marry someone else in the future? Someone who is loyal to you?”

“No.” My little dancer jerks her chin reflexively. “I don’t want to get married at all.”

Her answer is that of a silly girl who doesn’t want to accept her fate. She is a mafia princess, and as such, she has no choice but to marry.

“Okay.” Sarah takes a sip of her own water, probably trying to determine which direction to steer the conversation.

“I don’t like my life.” The words burst forcefully from Nakya without warning, spearing me right in the gut. “I never wanted any of this. I didn’t choose to live like a prisoner. I didn’t choose to lose my mother. There is no silver lining, and there is no future. My future is out of my control, so it’s a stupid question. The only thing I ever wanted to do was dance, but now that’s been taken from me too.”

Ever hopeful, Sarah tries to remain positive. “You are still dancing. I’m told that your recovery is going quite well. Even if it’s not what it used to be, you are still a dancer.”

Nakya’s hair falls into her face, her shoulders trembling as she shakes her head. “It’s over for me. My career is finished. My ankle can’t sustain the pressures of professional dancing, even if I did manage to attain another position. And it’s all his fault. He did this to me.”

“Who?” Sarah asks.

“My father,” Nakya whispers. “It was my own father.”

The truth no longer evades her, but it doesn’t bring any peace to know she no longer blames me. Her world has been ripped apart by the man who was supposed to protect her. If he was any kind of father at all, he would have protected her from me too.

I ache to comfort her. I ache to confess that I understand her pain. But that isn’t why I brought her here. And everything about this situation is wrong. She wasn’t supposed to hate her father. She was supposed to be precious to him. That was how I would kill him slowly. His Achilles’ heel.

I just didn’t expect that his weakness wasn’t her.





After the disastrous attempt at dinner with my brother, I’ve been forced to choose another avenue for information. While Mischa is by no means Alexei, he is very good with computers, and I trust him more than I trust most.

At this evening’s Vory gathering, I’m not surprised to find him lurking near the bar. Viktor’s middle daughter has just turned eighteen, and all my brothers have come together to celebrate the milestone.

“I need you to do something for me,” I tell him.

Mischa doesn’t look at me. He’s distracted by a brunette with huge tits hanging off the arm of an avtoritet who outranks him by several decades.

“She looks familiar,” he says.

“Hey, zadrota, did you hear me?”

He reluctantly drags his attention to me and nods. “Sure, Kolyan. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, I doubt myself. Admitting my intentions to anyone is a risk, even Mischa. A Vor should never appear vulnerable, and without solid proof against my father, this could backfire spectacularly if he discovers what I’m doing.