Free GHOST (Boston Underworld Book 3) by A. Zavarelli Page B

type of therapy. I paint every canvas blood red. When Magda sees them, she frowns. There is disappointment in her eyes, and it irritates me.
    “I need more red paint,” I tell her.
    “Why don’t you go explore the house,” she suggests. “I could give you a tour if you like.”
    I fidget with the paintbrush in my hands to avoid her hopeful expression.
    “I might go later.”
    She nods and then does something unexpected. She pats me on the shoulder and gives me a little squeeze.
    “You remind me so much of him at times,” she says. “When he first came to live with me.”
    “Who?” I ask.
    “Alyoshka,” she answers. “Alexei. You two are more alike than either of you realize.”
    There is warmth in her eyes when she says it. And pain too.
    I look away, and she leaves the room.

    A fter lunch , I do as Magda suggested and explore the rest of the house.
    There are three levels, and I suspect a basement as well. After exploring the first, I discover something new. A gym. The only piece of equipment inside is a solitary punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It isn’t the bag, but the man punching it that captures my attention.
    Alexei.
    He is wearing a pair of black pants and nothing else. And for the first time, I see his extensive tattoos. Some intricate, some simple. There are a mixture of black and other colors climbing up his back, chest, and biceps. There is an urge inside of me to study them. To explore him. Like a puzzle, I want to decipher each and every one of his mysteries.
    I want to know the feeling of his body beneath my hands. The chest and back that are broad and strong and glistening with sweat. It is an urge I have not had since Dmitri. This kind of want is unfamiliar. This kind of want is dangerous to me and alluring in the worst kind of way.
    He doesn’t seem to hear me, even when I step inside and the mat creaks beneath my foot. It is only a moment later that his gaze catches mine in the mirror. He freezes, and then slowly turns toward me.
    “Talia?”
    There is concern in his voice. He wants to know what I’m doing in here. I wish I had an answer.
    “I’m sick of fish,” I tell him.
    “Is good for brain chemistry,” he replies.
    I tilt my head to the side and examine him. “Is that the polite way of telling me that I’m crazy?”
    A ghost of a smile appears on his lips, and he shrugs. “Maybe a little bit.”
    I smile too. And it scares the ever living shit out of both of us. My hair falls in a cascade around my face when I tilt it down and tap my toes against the mat.
    “Don’t hide from me,” Alexei says.
    And when I look up, he is in front of me. His fingers find my chin, and he pushes my hair away from my face.
    “Never hide from me.”
    His face is close to mine, and we are both studying each other. I want to know things about him. Things that I’m not privy to.
    “I need you to take my stitches out,” I say.
    He picks up my arm and smooths his fingers over the healed cuts. “Magda…”
    “I want you to do it.”
    His pale blue eyes search mine for answers, but I don’t have any to give. So he simply nods and takes me by the hand, leading me upstairs to my bedroom.
    “Sit on the bed,” he instructs.
    And I do. My legs dangle over the edge since the bed is tall and I am short. I watch Alexei disappear into the bathroom and return a moment later. He kneels before me with the scissors, and I hand over my arm freely. While he works, I study his tattoos.
    “What do they mean?” I ask him.
    He looks up at me, and it seems like he didn’t hear me. There is concern in his eyes, but I’m not sure why.
    “Your tattoos,” I clarify.
    Again, he remains silent. The way he did at Arman’s. He seems tense. And I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something here. Either he doesn’t want to talk about them, or he didn’t understand me.
    “You want to know about my tattoos?” he asks.
    I nod when he looks up at me.
    “The stars on my shoulders I received when I