Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  I’m so emotional. Seeing him. Seeing them both together like this. It’s overwhelming in a way that I wasn’t prepared for.

  Alexei meets my gaze, and his eyes are red and bloodshot. Filled with grief. And I have so much regret. So much agony and want for this man. The damaged half to my soul. We are both so damaged, but together, we fit perfectly.

  I’m crying, I realize. Looking up at him with our baby in his arms.

  “I’m sorry I let you think…”

  “Shh…” He comes to sit beside me, reaching for my hand. “You did the only thing you could. I was so foolish, my sweet. But it will never happen again. I will never doubt your loyalty again. I will spend the rest of my life proving myself worthy of your…”

  His words die off, and he looks like he’s in pain.

  “Of my love,” I assure him. “I still love you, Lyoshka.”

  “And I, you,” he answers, cupping my face in his palm. “You are my sun.”

  He kisses me, and everything else melts away. I don’t doubt his assurances. I know with certainty that he will never allow anything to come between us again. Even the present distance is too much, he tells me, as he comes to sit beside me in bed. Franco nestled in one arm, and me in the other.

  He is our foundation.

  And despite the intensity of emotion between us in this moment, nothing has ever felt more solid.

  The moment is interrupted when Mack and Conor step back inside of the room. Conor looks terrified when he glances at Alexei while Mack looks like she wants to murder him.

  Alexei hands me back the baby and kisses me on the cheek before standing up to greet them. When he moves in their direction, Conor takes a step back.

  “I didn’t look at anything,” Conor proclaims. “I swear.”

  Alexei extends his hand as a sign of respect. “Thank you, Conor. For being there when I could not. I owe you a great deal.”

  Conor’s shoulders slump in relief and he smiles. Alexei smiles too. But Mack lays into him a second later.

  “I don’t like you.” She pokes him in the chest. “You took advantage of her. You knocked her up. And then you hurt her. That wasn’t the deal we had.”

  “I did do all of those things,” Alexei replies. “I was wrong.”

  For the first time ever, Mack seems speechless.

  “Damn right you were,” she huffs.

  “But she is my wife,” Alexei tells her. “She is never leaving me again.”

  Mack looks set to argue, but then her eyes find mine. And she sees that I have no protests. This is just Alexei’s way. This is his way of telling her that he is sorry. And that he will take care of me. So in the end, she chooses not to say anything, even though she really wants to.

  And I am so grateful for her in this moment. For all that we have been through together, and that even after everything, she is still here for me. And I realize how much we have both grown up over the last two years. How much we have changed. I know that if we can get past all of that, then we can get past anything.

  I also know the same is true for Alexei and I. He comes back to me and holds Franco for the remainder of their visit. He does not let anyone else hold our baby, except for Magda when she bursts into the room at the first available opportunity and doesn’t take no for an answer. She sings him lullabies. And Alexei and I watch, his hand always touching me. Anchoring himself to me.

  The rest of the day is spent much the same. Viktor and some of the other Vory come to visit, bringing lavish gifts for Franco and myself.

  By the time visiting hours are over, I am exhausted.

  “Please don’t go anywhere,” I tell Alexei.

  “I did not plan to,” he says.

  He climbs into the bed beside me again, which is ridiculous considering his height, but he does not complain that his feet are hanging over the edge. Franco is cradled between us, and he simply strokes his face, his eyes moving between the two of us.

  That is when I notice the tattoo on his hand. In the same space that I drew it before. My name, inside the sun.

  I reach out to touch it, and Alexei takes my hand in his.

  “You got it.”

  His eyes are glassy again. Vulnerable with emotion. But he does not try to hide it.

  “You are the only woman for me, my sweet,” he tells me. “Even in death, I could never let you go. You are it for me. And I am so sorry that I did not show you before.”

  “I don’t want your apologies,” I answer. “I just want your trust.”

  He expels a long breath and traces the lines of my face with his finger. “You have it. You have my word, I will not ever doubt you again.”

  “We need you,” I tell him. “We need all of you.”

  “You have it,” he assures me. “There is nothing without you. Tomorrow, I take you home. And I will make you mine all over again. Every day, for the rest of my life, Solnyshko. That is my promise to you. I will make you fall in love with me every day for a lifetime.”

  “A lifetime,” I agree. “Because we are in this together.”

  He kisses me on the forehead, and then Franco too.

  “Together,” he echoes.

  EPILOGUE

  TALIA

  SOME WOULD SAY that happiness is fleeting.

  I say that happiness is terrifying.

  But it is also real. And possible.

  And that doesn’t mean that everything is perfect all the time. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t still lows. Or struggles. Or moments when the memories try to claw their way back into the present and blacken everything around you.

  But I know now that if you just wake up every single day ready to do battle- ready to fight for what you have- then you have a real chance to hold onto it.

  Alexei and I fight for each other every day. Without fail.

  We argue. And we both repeat old patterns. But in the end, we always find our way back to each other. Because we promised we would.

  He is my solace and I am his sun, and Franco is the entire universe around us.

  Since Katya and Sergei’s betrayal, Alexei is much more careful about who he lets into his home. And we never go anywhere without him. Without his protection and his diligent security measures.

  Some would say that it is not right. To live so far away from everyone else. To be at home all the time. But this is our kingdom. He’s my king, and I’m his queen. And we would do anything to protect each other. And we are happiest here. Where we have each other.

  Mack and Lachlan come to visit often. Keeva and Franco will grow up together. The way that Mack and I did. But with people who love them. And they will never know the horrors that Mack and I knew. Or even Alexei. Because as a parent, I have realized one thing. So profound in its simplicity that it sometimes knocks me off balance.

  My love for Franco is unending. And my mother’s simply was not. She was broken in a way that I could never truly be. I am not like her. I will never be like her.

  Because I have them. And for me that is all I ever need to know to keep fighting. To keep living. To keep cherishing every moment I get to spend with them.

  When I watch Alexei now, speaking Russian to his son and earning smiles, I’m smiling too.

  So is Magda, who has embraced the role of Babushka with gusto. Even Nikolai has earned his way back into Alexei’s orbit. He is everything I could ask for in a brother-in-law and uncle. Always spoiling Franco when he comes to visit.

  Today, he arrived with a blinged-out kid size hummer for Franco to cruise around the yard in. The only problem is that Franco isn’t even crawling yet.

  “It would be nice for him to have a cousin,” I tell Nikolai.

  He looks at me and shakes his head. I still don’t know what’s happening between him and Tanaka. She never leaves his sight, but the cold front between them is obvious to anyone.

  “Maybe someday,” he says.

  “Maybe someday what?” Alexei asks as he passes Franco to me and pulls my body into his.

  “I
was telling him that he should start having some babies too.”

  Alexei shakes his head. “He could not handle it.”

  Behind him, Tanaka is smiling.

  “Lunch is ready,” Magda interrupts us.

  “Nikolai, take Franco downstairs?” Alexei asks.

  Nikolai takes him from me and everyone moves downstairs apart from Alexei and I. I already know what he wants. It seems like we always have visitors now. And sometimes, these stolen moments are all we get.

  He reaches down and wraps his arms around my body, kissing me and groping me while he has a chance.

  “Wear black for me tonight,” he says. “And let’s go to bed early.”

  “What about Franco?” I ask.

  “Uncle Nikolai can have some practice,” he answers.

  I smile up at him, curious how long he’s been planning this.

  “Okay, Lyoshka. For you, I wear black.”

  I move to go downstairs, but he stops me again.

  “I haven’t told you yet today,” he murmurs as his lips find mine. “But I love you, Solnyshko. Always.”

  The truth is, he does tell me that every day. Sometimes, he wakes up in the middle of the night just to tell me. To remind me that he has given me the one thing I never thought he could.

  His heart.

  I do not take that for granted.

  Even when we fight, we always remember to never take each other for granted again.

  So I guess in the end, maybe there’s a little hope left for all of us. Even me.

  * * *

  THE END

  SAINT

  BOSTON UNDERWORLD #4

  BOSTON UNDERWORLD #4

  Scarlett-

  When going to war, there are three very simple rules one must abide by.

  Know thy enemy

  Be prepared to sacrifice.

  Always wear good shoes

  After all, revenge is a dish best served in stilettos.

  I’ve got an eye for it, and nothing’s going to stand in my way.

  Not even Rory ‘The Saint’ Brodrick.

  He’s a fool if he thinks he can change me. By the time I’m through with him, I’ll make his mafia look like child’s play.

  Cross me, Mr. Brodrick?

  You better cross your heart and hope to die.

  Rory-

  I’m a fighter. A hustler. A mobster.

  I’ve seen a few things in my day.

  But I’ve never encountered anything like her.

  She's a beauty with a beast of a heart. The poison apple I just can't resist. And in her trail she leaves a wake of men crawling on their knees.

  What she doesn’t know is that I like my women wild.

  It only makes it that much more fun to tame them.

  PLAYLIST

  Playlist

  * * *

  Wreak Havoc- Skylar Grey

  A Little Party Never Killed Nobody- Fergie

  Gangsta- Kehlani

  You Don’t Own Me- Grace

  Bonnie and Clyde- Kellie Pickler

  Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore

  I Feel a Sin Comin’ On- Pistol Annies

  Raise Hell- Dorothy

  Renegade Runaway- Carrie Underwood

  Black Widow- Iggy Azalea

  Hard Out Here- Lily Allen

  Fix- Chris Lane

  Make Me Wanna Die- Pretty Reckless

  Natalie- Bruno Mars

  Grenade- Bruno Mars

  Criminal- Fiona Apple

  Hunter- Ella Fence

  Gunpowder & Lead- Miranda Lambert

  Addicted to Love- Florence & The Machine

  Titanium- David Guetta & Sia

  Talking Body- Tove Lo

  Tornado- Little Big Town

  Fastest Girl in Town- Miranda Lambert

  Just Tonight- The Pretty Reckless

  Ready Set Roll- Chase Rice

  Till I Collapse- Eminem

  Remember the Name- Fort Minor

  Kill!Kill!Kill!- The Pierces

  Hard- Rihanna

  Cherry Bomb- The Runaways

  Bad Romance- Lady Gaga

  Gasoline & Matches- Julie Roberts

  Loca- Shakira

  My Medicine- The Pretty Reckless

  Fake It- Seether

  Psycho- Puddle of Mud

  All or Nothing- Theory of a Deadman

  Next to You- Buckcherry

  Better Dig Two- The Band Perry

  EPIGRAPH

  Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

  -Confucius

  PROLOGUE

  SCARLETT

  ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE, and I’m just one of the many players, baby.

  Like that douchebag over there, watching me eat this hot dog. What is it about men and phallic shaped objects? I can’t even pick out a cucumber at the market without their eyes on me. They imagine dirty things while their wives herd the children down the aisles in an orderly fashion and thirst for the vodka at home.

  The men, though. They’ll go home, still thinking about that cucumber. And they’ll jerk off to it and then sit on the sofa and watch some inconsequential sports program and grunt out responses when their wives ask them a question.

  The American dream.

  Sigh.

  This hot dog though. Legendary. There’s extra mustard and relish, of course, because… go big or go home. I’m going to eat this whole goddamned hot dog, and I’m not even going to feel a little bit bad about it.

  Course, there isn’t a whole awful lot I feel bad about.

  It’s important to find humor in the little things. Like the construction worker who trips over a pothole and nearly breaks his neck while he eye-fucks me.

  I smile back at him and lean into the cold brick wall behind me. My stilettos are crossed at the ankles on the broken concrete below, and there isn’t a chance he could miss me in this dress.

  I like it when they look at me. Because I know what comes next.

  His friend catcalls me and asks how much.

  “Five thousand,” I yell back with a mouth still half full of food. “To let me watch while you suck a bag of dicks.”

  They exchange a dopey look and hurl some verbal insults my way. I flip them the bird before stuffing the last of the hot dog into my mouth and licking my fingers.

  Boys. That’s what they are.

  Silly little playthings.

  On my stage, and in my show, the only players I allow have blue blooded pedigrees. Like the current toy waiting for me just inside the hotel room at my back. Twenty minutes have come and gone since I lured him back here. And being that my windows of time aren’t really an exact science, I need to stop fucking around.

  I mentally press stop on the endless reel of chaos running through my head and take a deep breath.

  There is nothing good or bad. Only thinking makes it so.

  I step back into the room and stare at the heap of privilege and repugnance lying on the dank come-stained carpet.

  His eyes are shuttered, his mouth slack as his face droops into his shoulder.

  They never see it coming.

  This prick didn’t either. Another day, another unconscious prick on a hotel floor. Only this one has purpose, I think. Maybe. He looks exactly like the type of grade A douchebag that would run in Alexander’s pack.

  And that’s unfortunate for him.

  I nudge him with my toe, confirming that the benzos I slipped into his drink have fully entered his bloodstream.

  Every client is different. Some of them need more. Some less. But they always go down in the end.

  This one is built like a fucking horse.

  The bigger the man, the bigger the ego. Or is it the bigger the bank account, the bigger the ego?

  In either case, it’s been my experience that the flashier the clothes, the smaller the cock. They are all compensating for something, and I’ve no doubt that when I get his clothes off, there will be no surprises. This one looks like a Ralph Lauren catalog threw
up on him.

  I yank his Burberry wallet from the back of his khaki trousers and dump the contents onto the bed. A part of me wishes for something shocking and unexpected.

  But, alas, it’s always the same. Even with Teddy the III.

  Country club memberships and credit cards with exorbitant limits. A Porsche keychain because clearly the car isn’t enough for this asshole. And a condom to fuck the whores with. Razzle fucking dazzle.

  They can never be original. I swear the whole lot must be mass produced in a factory somewhere.

  The WASP cookie cutter doesn’t break the mold. These Ken dolls are all assembled in the same fashion. Posh clothing and secret societies and Ivy League educations. Humble beginnings sold separately. They sail and have luncheons and charity benefits all while stuffing one skeleton into their closets after another. Never short on arrogance but long on pretentious diatribes and entitlement.

  These guys think the world owes them. Whatever they want, they take. No fucks given.

  It’s an epidemic in the upper crust.

  And there’s only one antidote for such an affliction.

  The little monster they created.

  C’est moi.

  Debutant turned deviant.

  Captain shitforbrains here paid me for a good time, and I’m about to rock his fucking world.

  First things first, I relieve him of anything of value and shove it into my purse. Watches, rings, cufflinks. They are always found in abundance on these name brand jackoffs.

  It isn’t about the money, for me. The humiliation of being robbed by a call girl is just the cherry on top.

  At the heart of my scheme, there’s only one thing I desire from him.

  If he gives it to me, well it’ll just tickle my little black heart. If he doesn’t? Again, that’s unfortunate for him.