Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
He is anal about people eating because he was nothing but skin and bones his first ten years at the boys’ home. They didn’t starve him, they merely only had enough food for everyone to have one small plate per meal. Since his scar made him avoid crowded environments, Ghost ate once everyone left. That meant his meals usually consisted of scraps since some of the boys were pigs—myself included.
That’s why he reacted so fiercely when he learned the women we returned to Russia with were only fed the vegetable scraps usually thrown out during the early stages of food preparation. The ship was overstocked with food, so he was lost when he discovered Kirill had ordered the kitchen staff to go back to the methods his father overturned when he became head of the Bobrovs.
I’m reasonably fucking sure he was obsessed with Katie when his eyes first landed on her, but it became a full-blown obsession when she hid bread rolls down her nightie to feed the women locked in the orlop her first night on the ship. He wouldn’t have said anything if Kirill hadn’t forced his hand. He said he either punish Katie or he’d cut off one of Lera’s fingers to ensure everyone understands the consequences of stealing.
Ghost forced Katie to go hungry for a night, and I think it just about killed him.
His analness about feeding the world is why I didn’t bat an eyelid at Anastasia ordering double for any events she booked with her catering company. There was far too much food, but it was delivered to the homeless shelter closest to the event by Ana and me at the end of the catering job.
Seeing the joy on the people’s faces while they were eating her meals Ana craved more than success, and their happiness sparked her love of drawing. She was often found in the corner of the shelter, sketching pictures of babies for their mothers. They didn’t have fancy phones with cameras, but they had a keepsake they’d treasure for eternity.
When I notice Katie’s hands are empty, I ask Ghost, “Do you want me to take her something?”
I imagine his head bobbing when a swoosh sounds down the line.
“Anything particular?”
With a grin, I remove my seat belt when he asks, “Can you manage a grilled cheese sandwich?”
I’ve made out for years I am a shit cook. In reality, I’m half decent. I just didn’t want anyone to know that since it would give them a reason for Ana not to cook for them. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
I push my phone in close to my ear when unexpected praise leaves Ghost’s mouth, “Thanks.” After sniffing like he didn’t just snort several lines of coke, he asks, “Do you want me to check on Ana?”
As much as I trust him, I say, “Nah, it’s good. She’ll most likely be asleep.” He pffts me when I mutter, “I kept her up half the night and most of the day.”
My laugh echoes in the quietness of the monastery when Ghost mutters, “I thought those grunts were the pigs we brought in for composting? You forever prove me wrong. Fucking animal.”
As I slowly approach my daughter’s gravesite, I tell Ghost to sort his shit out before coming to check on his girl for himself. “I’ll make sure she eats, but I can’t help with all the other shit she’s wading through. Our women need dicks for that, and I’m now a one-woman-per-dick man.”
It takes him a minute, but he eventually stops cussing me out to murmur in agreement, then he disconnects our call.
I snap a quick picture of our daughter’s gravesite so I can prove to Ana how realistic her drawings are before entering the monastery I’d give anything to return to its roots.
Although it was never my home, Ghost hasn’t lived anywhere else.
27
ALEK
My grilled cheese sandwich was a fucking mess, but I think I made good head waves with Katie. Although certain she didn’t ‘step out’ on Ghost, I’m just as confident she is up the duff. Her emotions are out of whack, her stomach is swollen, and she looked seconds from bursting into tears when I lifted the lid on her dinner.
It was two bits of bread slapped together with a piece of cheese, but she stared at it like it was a one-way ticket home.
I don’t think she’d accept it, though. The ticket home, not the sandwich. She is as snowed under as Ghost, who thinks he’s being sneaky slipping out the back entrance of the compound. It is a full moon, and although his hair isn’t as white as it was when he was a kid, it is as bright as his scars shimmer when he isn’t hiding them.
I wait for his two-wheeled ride to disappear down one of the dirt roads we regularly walked as kids before heading inside and veering for Kliment’s bat cave. He assures me there are no bats, but I think he is full of shit. It is too dark to see anything, and the hum of his multiple computers could have him missing their squawks.