Page 30 of Corrupted Guilt

Sometimes I look at her and she’s so beautiful it hurts.

And it keeps happening.

There’s sadness in her, though that won’t seem to go away.

I know why Viktor constantly put her down, it’s easy enough to untangle – for me, anyhow, from the outside perspective. Her low self-esteem ensured she would stick around and not look for something better. Not go out and seek life, confidently, know what she wanted and to go after it.

The methods of a coward.

That’s what I meant when I told her, ‘I should have just killed him.’ It’s what he deserves for doing this to her, never mind what he’s done to the Bratva.

We arrived at the restaurant after about 15 minutes of mostly quiet car ride.

“Here we are.” I nodded to the small bistro at the end of the block. One of the last secrets in this city.

We walk in together, and I guide us to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

Katya wrinkles her nose, but she follows me down the steps and inside.

She looks around. “Why is everyone looking at us?” she whispers, drawing closer to me.

I smile. “They’re looking at you.” Even in jeans, she’s still the most beautiful girl in any room.

“It’s strange to see you here,” she remarks. “I was beginning to think you lived for your work,” she blushes.

I nodded. “There hasn’t been much time in my life for anything but work.”

“Is this work for you too, then? Babysitting the boss’ daughter?” She asks it in an almost vulnerable tone, not the attacking tone she usually puts on for me.

“It’s a mix. Business and pleasure. Is that okay with you?”

She considers it, cocking her head to the side but before she decides, the food comes. Katya gapes at the spread: huge double decker slabs of ground sirloin with bacon, onions and cheddar, and crispy, thick fries.

“There’s enough here to feed an army! I can get through half of that.” Then she has a moment of uncertainty, looking at the silverware, unsure whether to use her hands or do some ungodly thing with her fork and knife. I grab my burger with my hands and take a bite, she follows my lead.

“I’ll allow it,” I say, with a smile to let her know I’m joking. “But I bet you’ll finish the lot.”

We start eating, and soon she relaxes. “Oh my God,” she murmurs, taking a bite. “This is worth the diet and exercise I’ll need to do the next few days to work this off.”

My breath sticks. Fuck, she’s sexy, savoring every bite. She’s relaxed and carefree, gulping beer and wiping the foam from her lip with the back of her sleeve.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Katya asks hesitantly. “I hardly know much at all.”

I pause. “Like what?” I ask, dunking a fry in ketchup. “And what do you know?”

“Well, what I know comes from Dmitry.” Katya glances around, as if she said something dirty. He was her brother dammit, but Viktor wouldn't let anyone talk about him.

She toys with her beer for a second, thinking hard, “Would you promise to answer my questions?”

“It depends on the question, kiska. Some I won’t answer. You can ask anything. There’s no guarantee I’ll answer.”

“Believe me, I’m aware,” she rolls her eyes.

I agree with my eyes. “Dmitry knew as much as I did about what came before. I don’t know my parents or where I came from, and I don’t really know how I came to live on the streets. My first real memory is getting into a fight with Dmitry, winning, and then how he took me home with him and made me his brother.”

It was terribly simple when you put it like that. But living it was anything but simple, especially with Dmitry’s little sister following me around, making eyes at me.

“You really don’t remember anything before that?” she asked, incredulously.

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