Corrupted Page 2

  I turn away from her as Alexei, my guard, approaches me. I’m still sipping on my vodka-seven Elaina prepared for me. She’s passable at making drinks, not great, but okay. I won’t be drinking her martinis anytime soon, though.

  “Boss,” he says quietly, scanning our surroundings.

  “What is it, Alexei?”

  “I dumped him out back. Are you sure?” he double checks. He really is a diligent employee and I enjoy him working for me, but I have to keep them all on their toes.

  “You question me?” I stare him down crazily. “He touched her. Yes. Take care of it, or I will,” I snap, annoyed.

  “Very good, sir. Consider it done,” he replies and stands to his full height. He isn’t a big man, maybe six foot or so like I am. He may have me beat muscle wise, but I’ve been training for most of my life in killing methods.

  I gesture with my hand, indifferent. “Take him to the docks. Feed him to the rats.”

  “Yes, Boss,” he replies, unfazed, and strides toward the back entrance.

  The punishment may appear harsh, but everyone in here who watched what happened with her needs to see. They will witness Alexei leave through the back and know that the drunk will never return.

  They will learn she belongs to the Solntsvskaya Bratva. To the boss, to me. Even if she’s unaware of it, they won’t be.

  Hawk, the manager of Taint is here filling in. He’s a decent employee, but I prefer it when Elaina works with another female. I take special notice each time Elaina talks to Hawk, trying to work out what exactly they are saying. Unfortunately for me though, I can’t read lips very well.

  I can’t stand it when he leans in close, or touches her. I want to fire him each time he lays his hand on her sun-kissed arm. I hold myself back though. I know she wouldn’t forgive me for acting so petty.

  I tend to take stock when she speaks to any male who isn’t just there for a quick bar transaction. Hawk’s here to fill in for one of the other bartenders who was meant to relieve Elaina, but called in sick. Of course I already know this from the manager informing me earlier, but act oblivious to it.

  She gives him a small side-hug and a smile, then grabs her purse. She’s getting ready to leave, throwing the sling of her purse carelessly over her shoulder as she comes to me. Sitting up straight, I wipe my features clean of any dark thoughts and concentrate on her lightness.

  She flashes me a small smile and a little wave as she shouts over the noise, “Goodbye, Viktor. Thank you for earlier.”

  I can’t help but stare into her eyes. I may seem like a stalker but it’s like getting lost in a sea of blue and I can’t help myself.

  “Have a good evening, Elaina.” I keep it formal, not acknowledging her thanks. She should just forget what happened. I run the Bratva. That was peas compared to what I normally deal with. She doesn’t seem to realize I would do so much more for her if she were to ask.

  She gives me a shaky smile and heads toward the door to the club. I gesture to Spartak who’s been watching me closely, waiting for the signal. I nod toward her and he quickly follows.

  Spartak will trail her home to her crappy little apartment and make sure she is safe. It’ll be his job to park outside her building and keep watch. Spar’s her unofficial guard. I know it’s not a practical thing to have my men do, but it’s a new requirement of them and no one ever said I was reasonable.

  I leave to go home too because if she’s not at the club then I don’t want to be there either. I live close to Tate, in the same gated community. My house is tan with decorative landscaping.

  When I bought my home, Mishka came over right away with a list of plants she wanted. The guards went and picked up everything she asked for. That crazy, old woman came and worked in the yard for a week straight. It looks beautiful, but I’m just thankful I only have to worry about the sprinkler being on and nothing else.

  Tate’s backyard is absurd. Mishka and Emily are always changing it up and planting new flowers everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if my little brother fattens up with all the cooking Mishka is teaching Emily.

  On the plus side, I can visit now and eat a good dinner. My brother and I can cook fairly well, but we always just grill at night. Mishka will make delicious old Russian recipes.

  Thankfully the trip is short. My house is only about ten minutes from the club. I love my sporty James Bond type cars parked in the garage, but I’m too exhausted to really enjoy them today.

  Running a bunch of criminals makes you age inside quickly and my uncle has always told me to drive a car you love. He says we have too many things to worry about, that we need to have something we can enjoy in the small amount of free time we have.

  I pull my black Mercedes-AMG GT S into my three car garage, next to my Jaguar. My Mercedes purrs like a pleased kitten, enjoying the attention, but god do I love my Jaguar. My Jag doesn’t purr, no, she growls when I give her gas. Maybe I’ll take her for a drive after I rest for a while.

  I’m greeted by a silent house and it’s refreshing. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes tightly for a moment and breathe in the clean air. Ahh. That’s nice after the noisy club for the past five hours.

  As I strut leisurely to my office I shuck my jacket and shoes, diligently unbuttoning my shirt. One thing I thoroughly enjoy about being home is the lack of clothes.

  I sit in my comfortable, overly plush leather desk chair and fill a tumbler with Grey Goose. Growing up around my uncle, I learned to drink vodka as if it was water. Now it’s second nature to have it at home when I’m relaxing.

  Taking a deep breath, I’m met with the vibration of my personal cell phone ringing. This better be important. If it were the ringtone to the business phone I would let it keep ringing. I glance at the flashing screen to see it’s Tate.

  “Braat,” I answer ‘brother’ in Russian on the second ring.

  The majority of our conversations are in Russian, even though Tate hates when I call any attention to our native language. I am proud to be Russian and use it to my advantage when I talk business.

  “Viktor. What went on at the club today?”

  “I’m well, brother, thank you for inquiring.”

  “Save it, Viktor, what happened?” he asks, frustration coating his voice.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Bullshit! I heard you took a man out the back door, is this true?”

  “Yes, and? What is it to you, Luka? I had business, it was handled.”

  “Business! Are you joking? You carried a man out the back door in front of customers! That is reckless, Viktor. You are being too bold.”

  “Bold, Luka? No. You forget that I was the one handed the Mafiya, but gave it to you. You may be the Big Boss now, but I run the rest. The only thing bold, is you speaking out of place. Mind your business, Luka. I will handle things as I please.”

  “Viktor, you will go to jail if the wrong person sees this. I know you stepped down, but at the same time I stepped up into a position you so desperately ran from. Don’t you lecture me about giving up your spot. I took it for you so you could have freedom, yet you embrace the Bratva for Uncle.”

  “Yes, someone has to embrace the dirty deeds of our family. I clean up messes, Luka, it’s what I do. The trash put his hands on Elaina at the bar and I was fixing the issue, little brother.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place, instead of fighting with me? We have to stick together, Vik. With father out, it’s you and me, now.”

  “I know this, it will be fine, Luka. Don’t stress, I am doing my part.”

  “Thank you, and if you need anything, call.”

  “I will, if it comes to that.”

  I hang up and pound my fist on my desk, shaking the glass of vodka. My little brother has some nerve, getting angry with me. He has no idea what he’s talking about. I wonder which little rat called him.

  Truth? I didn’t take over the Mafiya because I knew my father really wanted Tate to have it. He always favored Tate over myself and
that was fine, I had my uncle. I stepped down to make my father happy. Had I known what he was doing to Tate and me, then I would have taken it over and not had the burden placed on my little brother. Should have known he wouldn’t think twice to lie to his sons. He’s a slimy two-faced fish and doesn’t deserve the air he breathes.

  Tate went ballistic when he found out about our father being even more crooked than he had suspected. He knows I had worked very hard to make all the books appear legit. They weren’t legit but I altered them in good faith that I was helping my father change his ways.

  Tate doesn’t mind being in guns, but he loathes the drug and sex trade. I don’t mind the drugs and my men make plenty of money from them. I do not dabble in the sex trade however; that stopped when I took charge. I know my uncle was very supportive of it, but I can’t fathom selling another human being.

  Drugs are another thing entirely. I feel the person has the choice. If they choose to be a user, that’s on them. The same with gambling; we have many circuits of gambling that we support and profit from, also the occasional gambling debt one might incur. I have no problem lending and having my men collect my interest due.

  I still handle some disposal. I know I don’t have to, that I have men for it, but I enjoy it. I guess it’s just another mess for me to clean up.

  I take a large drink of my vodka and call my guard, to check on Elaina.

  “Spartak?”

  “She’s good, Boss, just stopped by a little store on the way and got a few things.”

  “Alcohol?”

  “No, sir, just snacks.”

  “Very good. Pay attention.”

  “Yes, of course, sir,”he replies diligently and I hang up. I pull up her number to send her the nightly text I’ve sent since I first took her home.

  Me: Good Night, Принцесса (Princess)

  I’m met with the only response I have ever gotten from her at night. One evening I hope she will add an endearment to it, but I won’t hold my breath.

  Принцесса: Night.

  Elaina

  Chapter 2

  Two days later…

  I wake with a start. Fuck. Another bad dream.

  The dreams have never stopped. I had to live through everything with Brent and now I’m stuck dreaming about it. I don’t want to remember.

  God, that dream was so vivid. It felt like he really was touching me again and my skin crawls with the after effects. Gagging, I take a few deep breaths to try and calm my nerves.

  It always felt wrong each time. I didn’t really know it was immoral until I got older and saw how my friends’ parents interacted with them. Their parents treated them completely differently than what I was used to. I think back to when I started to question things.

  …………………………………………………

  I was thirteen and staying the night at my girlfriend’s house. I had never been allowed to stay away but Brent and Paige went out of town. I got to stay with Stephanie for three days.

  Stephanie’s house was a two story, warmly decorated home and her family was the kindest I had ever met. Each night I lay beside her in her big bed with its fluffy pink comforter. I was always waiting, scared for her father to come in, but he never did.

  Finally, I worked up the nerve and asked Stephanie if he came to lie beside her when I wasn’t there. I thought perhaps it was my fault, disturbing what fathers do with their daughters.

  I remember she had looked at me like I had lost my mind. Stephanie then drilled it into my head that fathers don’t normally lie with their daughters, especially when they are older.

  She never told anyone about that, but we did start to grow apart. I didn’t understand at the time why she drifted away, but I did once I got older. I didn’t blame Stephanie, I was dirty and no one wanted to be around that. I never spoke of it to anyone again. I couldn’t stand the thought of my case worker finding out.

  Brent and Paige were small worries compared to what some foster parents put kids through. I could handle Paige being mean and saying hateful things. I could even deal with Brent and his touching, I had to.

  As soon as I was old enough to leave without the cops picking me up, I split. I had been working a part time job after school and on the weekends at the Dollar Store close by. I was saving every penny and delighted in the time spent away from that house. I got my crappy apartment after some time and eventually was able to get my car. It was rough, but I refused to sink.

  …………………………………………………

  Shaking off those ominous feelings, I head into the shower. I scrub extra hard, attempting to remove the feeling I have crawling all over my skin. Turning the faucet to hot, the water heats quickly and I get a tingle from the burning. The pain helps clear my mind of some of the details. My skin turns bright pink, but it’s better than the creepy crawlies I had before. I’ll take the pain over memories of that sick fuck any day.

  Raiding my small closet, I throw on my short jean skirt, one of the few nice tank tops Emily gave me and the boots I borrowed from her. Not my usual style but the guys at the bar seem to eat it up. Any extra tips I can make by wearing a skirt or borrowing boots, I’m going to take full advantage of.

  Thank God I have Emily now. I had no idea how much a sister could truly impact my life and make things better. I’m even more excited about the fact of becoming an aunty.

  My car is almost paid off, thankfully. It seems like all I do is work and pay my bills. I’ll occasionally go on a drinking binge or party but that’s about all. I can’t afford much more even if I wanted to. It’s okay, this life is way better than the one I had growing up. I just have to keep my ducks in a row and keep my eyes on the prize—being car payment free.

  I’m usually too afraid of getting close to any guys and them touching me, unless I drink. If I’m toasted, I’ll let them kiss me or grab my breast, but that’s as far as I’ve ever let it go. I get creeped out and reminded of how it felt when Brent would mess with me.

  People don’t understand that sexual assault of any kind can affect the victim for the rest of their lives. I may not have been raped or anything that serious but this still impacts my daily life, no matter how strong I feel I’ve become. I’ve read online that it’s a form of PTSD. I don’t think I really have it, but I do have my triggers. Not like I’m going to visit a doctor anytime soon and discuss it with them.

  I’m fortunate working at the club and having Viktor there. He has no idea just how much I appreciate him looking out for me all the time. Not only do I feel safer but I’m able to work at a high end club. It helps dramatically with me meeting my goal of paying off my debts. I never want to be that vulnerable again, of being in a position I can’t escape if I need to.

  Tate is drastically protective of my sister, Emily, and with Viktor doing little things for me, I figure it’s probably a family trait. I know very little about his family besides the stuff Emily has told me. She’s not very forthcoming about them though. I know they both have a group of scary-looking guards. For what reason, who knows? My guess is because they are rich and because of all the Mafia-ish people in this area.

  I grab a banana on my way to my white Camaro. It’s all I can afford right now, so I make do. It’s not the fancy version of the Camaro and it’s not even that new, but I love her. She’s good to me and I do my best to take care of her. I’m thankful I can park my car close to my apartment and right under a light every night as I get a little spooked in the dark around here.

  I take a large bite, stuffing my mouth with a third of the banana. I’m hungrier than I first thought. I wipe the banana off my fingers onto the towel next to me after I climb into the car. I start her up, loving the little rumble she makes; it’s almost as if she thinks she’s fast.

  Glancing in my rearview mirror, I drop my banana and shriek in surprise. What the fuck? One of Viktor’s thugs is standing directly behind my car. I shut the engine off and climb out quickly. What a waste of a good banana, damn i
t!

  I snap rudely, “Umm, can I help you?”

  This is it, Viktor has overstepped the boundary this time. We formed a small friendship when I was in the hospital. I’ve tried pulling away but he just keeps pushing me. This time he’s out of line and I plan to give him a thorough piece of my mind. I place my hands on my hips and cock them to the side, tapping my foot. This better be good.

  “Forgive me, ma’am,” he says with a slight Russian accent. “I am Spartak.” He smiles warmly and my anger melts slightly.

  “Okay, Spartak, what’s going on? You’re in my way.”

  “Ma’am, please, your tire is bad, may I fix?” he asks, gesturing to my back tire on the passenger side. I walk around the rear end and look at him skeptically at the same time. I glance at the tire.

  “Shit! What am I supposed to do with this?” I flail my arms toward the very flat tire and cringe.

  I have to get to work soon or I will be late. There’s no way I have time to get a new tire and I definitely shouldn’t drive it like this. I’ll have to call a cab and that’s going to be so expensive.

  “I fix it for you.” His Russian gets a little stronger and I’m immediately reminded of my sister’s good friend, Nikoli.

  “You can fix it? How?”

  He walks to the trunk and gestures for me to open it. I press the trunk release button on my key fob and he proceeds to show me where the spare is. He also shows me how to remove it from the trunk, what the jack is, and how to jack my car up. Then he takes the old tire off, puts my spare on and loads the flat back into the trunk for me.

  I’m in awe that this man just offered to help me and do all of this work. It took him about twenty minutes total. He did it efficiently and never once made me feel guilty for his help.

  I never could have changed it that fast, once I figured out what to do. I cataloged each maneuver so I have it for future reference. I like being able to do stuff and not having to depend on someone else all the time.