Corrupted Read online

  Corrupted

  By Sapphire Knight

  Warning: This content contains material that may be offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and adult situations. Some situations may be hotspots for some readers.

  Dedicated to Lindsay and Abbey.

  You ladies mean so much to me.

  You’ve dealt with me happy, excited, mad, and crying.

  Yet you’re still here.

  Love you big.

  Acknowledgements-

  My husband- Thank you for cooking me an omelet every morning and wearing headphones when I’m trying to write. I love you.

  My boys- You are my whole world. I love you both.

  Cat- My sweet friend, thank you for all of your support!

  The lovely Beta readers, Thank you- Abbey for your encouragement and ideas that help me build from. Kelly for reminding me of things I’ve forgotten and being so sweet. Tammie for your nonchalant, sexy comments that have inspired me to write new scenes. Tamra for picking up on the things I completely breeze over and writing reviews I can’t wait to read. You each stepped up to the plate and have given me very valuable feedback. I love it that you can be straight with me and then be great friends also!

  Cover Designer and Photographer, Sara Eirew- Thank you for such a beautiful cover. You have such amazing talent and I am lucky to have you working on mine!

  My Editor (AKA Miracle Worker) Amanda L. Pederick- Thank you so much. I absolutely love working with you and count my lucky stars that you took a chance on me! xoxox

  Sapphire’s Naughty Princesses- Thank you ladies for everything you do to help promote my work, for all of your support and encouragement. You make me want to write even more!

  My blogger friends-There are so many to list and for that I am in awe.

  Abbey's 1-Click Book Blog, Not Another Damn Blog-Blog(Krystal-my lovebug), Beneath The Covers Blog, Promoting Authors, Books & Reviews, Paranormal Romance Trance, One last Page Book Blog, Literary Treasure Chest, Revenge of the Feels, My Reading Reality, Bleeding Heart Blog, La Jersey Chika Reads Indie Books, Smut Hut Books, Book reviews & take-overs, Blogging For The Love Of Authors And Their Books, Shirley's Bookshelf, JaMbookblog, Emily Can Say What She Wants, Indie Impressions, Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog, Sassy kiwi Book Blog, Loves 2 Read Romance, Heather Ann's Book Reviews, Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents, Relentless Book Chics Ramblings & Reviews, Best of Both Worlds: Books & Naughtiness, Sarah & Kirsty's Book Reviews, Books Laid Bare, ByoBook Club, Sinfully Sweet Promotions, Book Boyfriend Hangover, Little Shop of Readers, Tamra, Karen, Kelly, LaVida, Mindy, Lindsay, Jodi, anyone left out I apologize & I love you guys!

  My readers- Thank you for making this possible for me. I wish I could hug each one of you!

  Prologue

  Warm, syrupy liquid coats my fingers, bleeding onto my hands and drips to the cold cement below. The sky is black, the stars and moon hiding, helping me complete my task. The calming swoosh of the waves mask my noises as I drop the lifeless body to the ground to finish securing weights to his limbs.

  The small pier is deserted and the men on the docks know to mind their own business. No one wants to be involved with the Bratva, especially when its leader is dumping bodies. They keep their concerns to themselves, knowing they would be next on my list.

  I relish the power.

  I was the smart one, the one strictly handling the money of the business. Then my uncle gave me my first taste of disposal. I don’t necessarily enjoy the kill itself, but I love watching them sink into the deep, murky waters of the lakes surrounding us.

  Elaina

  Chapter 1

  “Just a minute!” I grumble at the drunk asshole waiting for me at the end of the bar. Geez, my feet are killing me. I sling another vodka-seven and set it in front of Tate’s big brother, Viktor. Rushing to the other end of the bar, I address said drunk.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Yeah! Umm, gimme ahhh beer! Yeah, beer!” he chortles, lazily lying the top half of his body across the bar. Ugh, men like this make me sick.

  “Sorry but you’ve had a bit much to drink and I can’t serve you any more alcohol.” I try to keep it polite, when in reality I want to get the soda gun and spray this idiot with the nappy hair.

  “I’m the paying customer here! This is bullshit. Give me a beer!”

  “Look, you can have a glass of water or I can make up a pot of coffee, but no more beer. I’m sorry,” I yell over the pulsing music. His rancid breath washes over me and I gag slightly.

  “You’re sorry, huh? Good for nothin’ fucking cunt.” He spits the words out angrily and it takes every bone in my body to stay professional. Being a bartender I know I will deal with assholes but I’m no one’s door mat.

  “When you calm down, then I will get you some water.”

  He reaches over the bar, grabbing onto my mid-length, blonde hair, “Calm? Get over here, I’ll show you calm!” My head snaps back, and with the pain I’m immediately thrown into another time of my life.

  …………………………………………………………..

  Elaina, ten years old…

  “Where are you going, baby girl? Daddy wants to talk to you for a second.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go to bed. I have to get up early for school,” I reply, trying to make a decent excuse to escape his clutches.

  “I only need you for a few minutes there, baby girl. Come here.”

  I squirm uncomfortably. “Ummm, please, I’m really tired.” Brent likes to get close and touch me. It makes me feel weird and I don’t like it.

  “I said NOW, Elaina.” His voice is menacing as he reaches his large fingers towards his belt and dutifully releases the clasp. Brent wraps his hand around the thick leather, pulling it free from the charcoal grey suit pants. Looking at me longingly, he reaches out and grasps my blonde hair roughly. The action forces my head back and my eyes crest with tears. Ouch, please, no.

  At a creak in the floor, he glances up quickly, taken by surprise.

  “Brent, what’s going on? Was she bad again?”

  My eyes rapidly scan the room until they fall on my foster mom, Paige. Thank God, she came at just the right time. She’s standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip, glaring at me spitefully. She always looks at me like that.

  He speaks through gritted teeth, “She was talking back again.” He sits up to adjust himself.

  Brent releases my hair at the same time as he propels me forward, dropping the belt to the floor. I stumble, splaying my arms out wildly to catch myself. I tend to be a little bit of a klutz sometimes and I’ve gotten pretty used to grabbing for anything within reach when I start to go down.

  Paige grabs my shoulder and I cringe at the pain. Tightening my tummy, I hold my breath.

  “Come along, Elaina. Such a pretty little girl. It’s a shame you are so ugly inside and can’t behave properly. We certainly won’t be keeping you.”

  Paige walks me quickly down the long hall to a small room I’m staying in. I shuffle my feet hastily along the plain, tan carpet to keep up with her pace. “Now, go to bed and don’t make a sound,” she tells me sternly and shoves my small frame inside the shoebox-sized bedroom.

  The door swings closed and I jump out of the way before it hits me. There’s a loud click as she locks the door. She doesn’t realize it, but I enjoy that sound. As long as that door is locked, I know I won’t have to submit myself to being uncomfortable around them. I know as long as Paige has the key, the lock will keep him out.

  I shed my jean shorts for my pajama bottoms. I swear it always feels like someone is watching me; I wonder if there are ghosts in this house or something? Sighing loudly, I lie in the single-sized bed provided to me with the bright yellow comforter. The blanke
t is the only happy thing about this room. Is this what it’s like for normal kids? Do their parents treat them like these people treat me?

  ………………………………………………………

  As I snap out of it, wheezing with shock, I see Viktor crushing the drunk onto the bar top, whispering something in the man’s ear. The drunk man shakes his head rapidly, sending his shaggy hair in every direction.

  “No, no pleeeease. I swear it, I swear never again. I won’t even look her way, man, I swear it!” he sputters, sounding surprisingly sober and Viktor says something in Russian, nodding at the man beside him in black. Viktor straightens up, adjusting the jacket of his suit and steps out of the way.

  The guy next to Viktor bends swiftly and grasps the drunk harshly, forcing him from the bar stool and carts him off towards the back of the club. The drunk drags his feet, begging the guard to reconsider.

  Viktor brushes off his suit jacket, annoyed, and shrugs so the sleeves drop back in place. As he comes around the bar, he has completely returned to his ever professional façade. He’s always so well put together, so handsome and stern. The word dashing suits him perfectly as if he could step straight into a movie and fit right in. He’d easily take on the lead role.

  He steps carefully across the slippery floor behind the bar, not scuffing the expensive shoes decorating his feet, until he is a mere twelve inches away from me. He gazes at me, wiith an expression full of concern.

  Viktor’s eyes can be filled with menace at times, though he’s shown me nothing but kindness since I first woke up out of my hospital haze over a year ago. Another horrible memory to add to my list; unfortunately that one was my own doing.

  “Are you…?” he starts to ask. Puzzled, I tilt my head. He brushes his hand tenderly down the side of my arm and peers into my eyes, trying to gauge how I am.

  I clear my throat loudly. “Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” It comes out a tad gruff for me but I’m still a bit overwhelmed.

  He nods minutely and bites the side of his lip. He regards each crevice of my face, watching, reading my features for any clues. He won’t find anything, I’ve been hiding my feelings about many things, those for him included, for far too long. I do care about him as a friend and of course he is devastatingly good looking with his strong Russian features.

  I blink rapidly a few times and step back, “Sorry, that guy just caught me off-guard.”

  He can’t be touching me like that. I don’t know what to think when he touches me so I shuffle backwards more and try to collect my bearings. I turn away from him, effectively putting up my protective wall.

  He simply nods, clenches his fist and makes his way back to his seat at the end of the bar.

  I quickly walk to the opposite side of the bar to tend to the other customers. OO7 is a very busy club, but thankfully only special orders come to the bartender. With the unlimited drinks here, included in the huge door fee, there is always a drunken guy being a dick at some point.

  After growing up in foster homes it really doesn’t bother me. I have met my fair share of assholes trying to take advantage of me. I guess I feel like there is this barrier, like they can’t get to me because of the large bar between us. It’s probably naïve of me to feel that way but I do.

  At least here there’s some sort of monitoring; Viktor always takes care of any issues I may have. He doesn’t know just how grateful I am for that. I try to keep those things to myself though.

  I don’t want to appear weak to any man. I’ve definitely gone through my fair share and I have learned a man will take full advantage of any sign of weakness. Viktor doesn’t know just how scared I get when someone crosses that line.

  I glimpse over at him nonchalantly while refilling the four napkin stations placed randomly on top of the bar. He’s beautiful. My sister is so lucky to have married someone who looks like Viktor. He is tall, and strong; not the beefed up strong, but solid enough to easily carry me out of the bar over his shoulder. I know that much for sure, since he’s done it a few times.

  Vik is dressed in a crisp suit each time I see him. His clothes fit as if they were made specifically for him. With his money though, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were custom made. We could be running an errand and yet he still dresses so formally, I tend to look like a bum next to him.

  Personally, as long as I’m wearing clean clothes and they are comfortable, I’m good. He says appearances are important. However, when you are deep in mafia territory I doubt it really matters. He could be wearing a tank top and board shorts, but if they see Viktor, they know he is the king ding-a-ling around here besides Tate.

  His hair is short, complimented by a proud nose, almost as if he was bred to be stuck up. He’s not though. Viktor’s just observant and quiet.

  His eyes are the same as Tate’s. They’re a gorgeous hazel, except a little more on the green side. Viktor’s also older at twenty-seven, and acts every bit of it. I rarely see him smile unless I pop off and say something amusing.

  I swallow as I take in his five o’clock shadow. He shouldn’t be allowed to look so good; it’s not fair to other men.

  I’m caught blatantly staring as he looks over at me and our irises meet—his hazel to my sparkly blues. I blush and turn away. No more gawking, it’s time to finish up my shift.

  Viktor

  I sit observing her, every single shift. Each time she’s here, she wears a tight little skirt that hugs her hips. It’s glued to her like a second skin. I feel as if the skirt has a leash on me, taunting me every time she passes me to serve someone else. Then there are the times she bends over cleaning or digging out more supplies and I’m met with the smooth skin on the backs of her thighs. I would insist she wear pants but I fear they would outline her ass perfectly and be just as taxing on my libido.

  Her sweet little smiles I get on occasion are payment enough for sitting here, putting up with obnoxious drunks. I don’t mind a few drinks. However, when you are in here all the time and act abhorrent, I have no patience.

  Every week I corner the manager for her schedule, so I can be here with her. I threaten him each time with being fired. I know he secretly looks at her, wants her, and fantasizes about her. He’s lucky I do not kill him for it. If she were mine, I would hurt him.

  She may be stubborn and believe I am bothersome, but I have to be. Ever since that day I was sent to dispose of her, it was like something in me demanded to protect her. I’ve never looked at a woman before and felt as if I was literally pulled toward her.

  I cherish that day in the hospital, her lying there helpless and sweet. The taste of her skin, her scent, even tainted with the after smell of alcohol made me want her desperately. I promised Emily I wouldn’t let anyone harm her sister and I meant it. Now that she is Tate’s wife, she is also like a little sister to me.

  In the past I have hinted to Elaina about my feelings, but she hasn’t taken me seriously. I feel as if I’m a desperate fool, constantly lusting after her. Not once has Elaina made a move to show she wants to be more than just friends. It’s crushing, but I still hold out for her with each shift she works.

  She zigzags behind the bar, working in haste. I love how her cheeks flush with a fine mist of perspiration. I can picture her beautifully, riding me, covered in that same pink blush. Perhaps her ass is pink too, with a few of my hand prints. She looks like the type of sweet girl who could use a few spankings.

  She is a hard worker and I admire how well she handles customers. OO7 is lucky to have her as an employee. The men here should be paying me just to watch her work the bar.

  I offered once to take care of her. She brushed it off as if the idea were ludicrous. Taking in her loveliness, it’s far from ridiculous.

  In Russia when I was a small boy, we were taught to look for splendor, so it’s natural for me to gravitate towards her. She is all beauty. She encompasses the all-American, girl-next-door look.

  She’s perfect with her freckles and blue eyes. With her corn-colored blonde hair she sc
reams American, but if it were a few shades lighter, she could definitely pass as a Russian girl.

  At least I know that if Mother were to ever meet her there would not be any issues, since she adores Emily. God, that dinner prior to Tate and Emily’s wreck was hilarious. I thought our mother was going to pull her hair out and then spit on Emily. I couldn’t stop chuckling at the little comments she kept making. I knew Tate was a goner as soon as I saw them get out of the car. He had an almost feral look when I greeted Emily. Frankly, I’m surprised he let Mother get away with as much as she did.

  Mishka is the one I would really want Elaina to meet if I had a choice. She was always more of a mother to Tate and me growing up. She cooked for us, got us ready for our private school and even slapped us on occasion if we were out of control. Mother didn’t dare touch us or my father would have gone ballistic, but Mishka would have busted Papa’s knees. Tate had to get his knee fetish from somewhere.

  I know my father would call Elaina a princess, as she resembles such. However, that trash will never meet her, I’ll make sure of it. He may be my father, but he died to me when he double crossed me and my brother. He is fortunate we let him live this long.

  Have you ever met someone and just known there was something about them? That’s exactly how I felt the first time I heard her speak to me from that hospital bed.

  I was already drawn to her, to her beauty and sweet smell. Then her soft, sweet voice sounded like a melody and it was like my eyes were opened for the first time to this love at first sight notion. Now each time she talks to me, I hear that harmony and it brings a little bit of bliss into my stressful life.

  None of it matters though, as she couldn’t care less if I sat here. She has told me many times she is a grown up and can take care of herself. She may be independent, but deep inside she needs me, I know it.

  When she wrecked her car into my brother’s she was extremely drunk. She tried to get crazy the last time London, Avery and Emily all came to OO7. Luckily, I’d brought her and was able to take her home safely. She is careless and it drives me mad. How can such a perfect creature not take better care of herself?