Corrupted Love: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mackenzies Book 2)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Taking in a deep breath, I exhale slowly. “Mischa and I are getting a divorce.” It’s better that I lie, better that I say I was the one who wanted the separation. If he ever found out Mischa was the one who initiated it, he’d have her killed. The same way he had my mother killed for working with the government to take him down. He didn’t care. The Bratva has always been more important to him than the ones he loves or loved in my mother’s case.

  “Did the woman stop making you happy?” He inquires, digging, which is exactly why I hate being here.

  I have to be careful on how I say this, because I still very much love my wife. It’s just her who doesn’t seem to care for me in this way any longer. “Surely you understand, Father. Sometimes the same woman simply loses your interest.”

  My father slaps his knee and breaks out into laughter. “That’s my boy! Do you see this, children? The apple has not fallen far from the tree.”

  “We will begin the process shortly. Her and I will discuss the settlement, but I may give her the home we built. It’s the least I can do after leaving her.”

  My father continues to snicker. Little does he know the pain he’s laughing at is truly mine. “Natalia, do me a favor and leave. I have business to discuss with my children. Shut the door on the way out.” His tone turns from jovial to businesslike very quickly. Natalia does what he wants, knowing she shouldn’t be wasting any time. The library doors shut and my father clears his throat.

  “Have you heard about what happened to Sergei Kolosov?” He inquires, looking to all of us.

  I glance around the room to see if my siblings know anything of his death, but it appears they don’t know a thing. I have to be careful how I react to this question, putting on another act for my father. “I heard those fucking Mackenzies were behind it.” I growl, hoping my charade will work.

  “They were. Now who are we supposed to get our guns from? Hmm?”

  “I have plenty of men on my radar. I’ll get you a list tomorrow.” I reply, handling the situation before it becomes something bigger.

  “No, no. Tomorrow is New Year’s. You will spend the day with sem’ya like us.” He explains I’ll spend the day with the family, cutting into our native tongue.

  “Fine. Is there something you wish to discuss with us, business wise . . . since you’re so concerned about someone overhearing us.” I motion toward the closed doorway.

  He claps his hands. “Bravo! A good eye you have. Now, Sergei is dead and while I’m certain you will help us find a new arms dealer, we have issues which take higher precedence.”

  “We do?” I question. I’m the second man in charge, meaning I know about everything my father does. There isn’t anything else that’s going on, or which causes the need for concern.

  “I’ve heard rumblings that Desmond will be sending for the twins very soon. Everyone in this room knows that Aleksandr will be taking the throne from me shortly as well. I must admit, I’m growing very tired of this work. It’s time a younger, more ruthless man takes charge. I’m ready to hand you the job, son, as it’s your birthright.”

  Heat swarms in my chest as I’ve been waiting for this day for far too long. For a while I assumed, I’d have to fight with Maxim for it, but I’d hoped he would’ve done the right thing and give me what’s been mine since the day I was born. Finally, I can put an end to some of the terror he causes. You see, my father isn’t respected because of what type of leader he is. He only holds the amount of power that he does because the citizens of Russia, and many of his so-called allies fear him. He’s irrational, cannot be calculated, and is a massive risk.

  “On one condition . . .” He spits. Condition? What?

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “You need to find one of the twins and kill her,” my father glances over to my sister, speaking to her. “Tamara, Sloane or Greer?”

  I look over to my sister who’s turning red in the face. “Uh . . . I don’t know how I’m supposed to pick when I know nothing about these girls.”

  My father chuckles lowly, stands up from his chair and I go cold when he pulls out his gun and aims it between my sister’s eyes. “I said, pick. Sloane or Greer Mackenzie. Which one will die? It’s easy. You or them.”

  Tamara looks to me, and I nod, signaling she needs to do it. “G-greer. Greer Mackenzie.” She says, stuttering.

  Our father puts his gun away and laughs like a child at the circus. “Perfect! Aleksandr, you will go after Greer Mackenzie and kill the woman. But, there’s something else.”

  This is what I mean when I say he’s irrational.

  “What would that be?”

  “Do you remember when you were a boy, and you told me you wanted to stay with Sofia in Ireland when I came to get you?”

  “I was a child,” I point out, clenching my jaw, feeling this twenty-something year punishment from a mile away.

  “Yes, but still you made your choice. Do you know how much I love you, son? I love you so much, and yet you didn’t care about the love I had for you. Now, this is your task. You will have to kill Greer Mackenzie, but you will fall in love with the girl first. You will love her the way I loved Sofia and then I will take her away from you the way Desmond stole Sofia from me. But that isn’t all, you will spend two years with this woman. I will have a series of demands which will be met.”

  “Father, you cannot be serious.” Ivanna jumps out of her chair. “This is asinine, even for you . . . this is . . . horrible.”

  Maxim snickers from his seat, speaking to me. “She could look like an ogre and you might want to shoot her by the end of it.”

  “Maxim!” Ivanna and Tamara say at the same time.

  “This is the only way you will give me what is rightfully mine?” I hiss.

  He nods his head once. “Yes, and if you don’t do it, I’ll simply give it to Maxim.”

  “Oh, brother. Nothing could go wrong with the Bratva in my hands.” Maxim jokes, playing into my father’s hand. Maxim isn’t nearly as horrible as our father, though he is as reckless as they come.

  “Fine, Father. I will do your bidding over a grudge that’s over twenty years old.” I hiss, rising from my seat I walk over to the doorway and shove them both open. They slam against the walls behind me and I wonder what the fuck I’m going to do. I’m supposed to be with this woman for two years, fall in love with her, and then kill her.

  Chapter Two

  Weak people seek revenge. Strong people forgive. Intelligent people ignore

  ~ Unknown

  Aleksandr

  New Year’s Eve . . .

  It’s funny how standing in the foyer of his house feels a thousand degrees lighter than being trapped in a room with him. He has a way of making everyone feel uncomfortable, like ants crawling over your skin, or snakes slithering under your feet, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  “Brat,” Aleksei calls me brother in our native language. He’s standing at the bottom of the grand staircase.

  “Da?” I reply.

  “She won’t let me in. I think it’s best you check on her.” Darya has always been one of the better ones who’ve treated Aleksei with respect. Growing up my father made it a point to say Aleksei isn’t our sem’ya, but he often forgets Aleksei is my brat and I will do anything for him, even walk away from the Bratva.

  “Fuck. Make sure no one follows me.” I tell him and head up the marble stairwell. At the top of the stairs I make a left and head to the second door on the left, not even bothering to knock as I enter my sister’s bedroom.

  “Darya,” I say her name in a cooling tone, but the moment I do a vase comes flying at my head. It crashes against the wall next to me and shatters into many pieces.

  “Get out!” She screams, trying to act tough. Out of all my sisters, Darya is the one who puts on the strongest face. No one else may realize this about her, though, she’s the most sensitive of us all.

  I step further into her bedroom and shut the door behind me. Focusing my eyes on hers, I spe
ak clearly, just as I would to anyone I’m doing business with. In fact, I’m using the same strategy I do with those who oppose me. She decides to shield half of her face from me, moving next to her gold and pink armoire. “I’m sorry for what she did. It’s unacceptable for her to treat you in such a way.” I explain, hoping it will help her.

  Her straight blonde hair falls against the side of her face, shielding her expression from my view. I continue to keep my eyes focused on her, waiting for her to give me some sort of sign that it’s okay for me to approach. In my years I’ve learned many things about women, specifically how they must be treated delicately, almost like the native red deer we have in the wilderness. You can’t make any sudden movements and must be patient. If you don’t do this, you will spook them.

  Her shoulders fall from the stressed stance she was taking a few moments prior. “She’s wretched. I don’t understand why she must be so cruel. What have I done except everything she’s ever asked of me? Why is she so horrid, Aleks?” Darya calls me by my nickname.

  I walk closer to Darya and shake my head. “I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. She’s been this way for as long as I can remember.”

  “She constantly wants to punish us, to berate us. We’re not children anymore. I can’t figure out why she must do this, even now. I’m not a small, little girl who will let her treat me this way forever. She must know that.”

  “I think she’s punishing you for our father’s actions.” I say what I feel, not shying away from the truth. Natalia has always held her children to a higher standard. She wants them to be more beautiful, smarter, and better than Maxim and Tamara can ever be.

  “Why do you speak in riddles? What is that supposed to mean, brat?” Darya turns to face me and I immediately see the cherry color dripping down her face.

  I eliminate the distance between us and walk up to her, place my hand under her chin and tilt her chin to the right so I can get a good view at the damage. “It’s nothing.” She tries to dismiss it.

  “No. This isn’t nothing. You’re hurt, sestra.”

  “It is only a cut, Aleks. Let it go.” Her words only serve to anger me further. Heat rises in my chest and I hear my blood pumping through my veins.

  “I hate that she did this to you.”

  “Our sem’ya is fucked up. She will do worse, and we both know it.” My eyes lock onto my sister’s frosty blue ones. We stare at each other for a few moments because we know the truth—it will happen.

  Our father has kept Darya, Natalia, and Ivanna here for years. Locked away, securely hidden in the event someone would target the family. The girls are of age to where they could get out, move. Our father would have to let them, then again, he chooses what he allows them to do. I don’t foresee them getting away with much.

  “I don’t like the way you’re treated here.” I explain.

  “Join the club,” Darya snickers in a sarcastic manner.

  “I will find a way to get you out of this. You and Ivanna, if it’s what you both want.”

  She scoffs, rolling her eyes. Darya isn’t even the type to try and hide her disrespect. “Aleks. You don’t have to be our knight in shining armor. We were born in the dark and this is where we will always be. You won’t be able to walk in the light and bask in the sun. Remember who our father is.”

  “Your life shouldn’t be a prison sentence.”

  “No, and neither should yours.” She says, not realizing the truth behind her words.

  Darya is correct. Our family is fucked up. Though, I’m lucky compared to the rest of them. I hope we will be able to stick together and form a bond that Natalia is desperately trying to sabotage. Before Maxim and Tamara came along, she would even go out of her way to keep me away from Ivanna when she was a baby. She told Father she thought I’d kill her.

  Who in their right mind would harm a child?

  Darya might think my promise won’t ever be filled, though I will try my best.

  Chapter Three

  And suddenly you just know it’s time to start something new and trust the magic of new beginnings

  ~ Unknown

  Greer

  New Year’s Eve . . .

  “What crawled up your ass?” Jordan, one of my very good friends, asks.

  Unable to refrain from rolling my eyes, I tilt my head to the right and give him a knowing look. “Jord, why do you always insist on being an irritable piece of shit?”

  “Damn, you’re in a mood. Sloane piss you off?” He snickers. Jordan hasn’t ever been the biggest fan of my twin sister. We might be twins, but no one would ever be able to tell. Our mother was Mexican and our father is Irish. I take after our father with my sheet white skin and coral colored hair. Meanwhile, Sloane has long curly hair as dark as midnight. Her eyes are the only thing she inherited from our father. Every other part of her is dark as can be.

  “I’m just . . . growing tired of this all.”

  The DJ announces we have thirty minutes until the ball drops and then the real festivities will begin. Jordan is here on behalf of his brother, Christian, who owns this club. LURE is one of Christian’s many clubs. Jordan had told me Christian’s in New York for the meantime so he offered to come out here since he can’t be in two places at once.

  “LA? I don’t blame you. It’s far too stuffy here for me.” Jordan chuckles, taking a sip of his scotch.

  I laugh, “No. I love the city. It’s where I was raised. You know? I . . . just am so tired of being something hidden, kept far away.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jordan furrows his brows together, wanting to know more. I haven’t told him anything about the reality behind my name. He knows me as Greer Mackenzie, knows I have a twin sister and an older half-brother who I haven’t seen since I was a baby. He also knows I just graduated from FIDM last fall and my sister is insanely good at her schooling, as well as being focused, resulting in her graduating from medical school early. The only other thing he really knows about my family is how my godparents are the ones who raised us. He never pried, asking what happened to my parents. That’s one of the many things I love about Jordan Steele, he doesn’t go digging for information that isn’t absolutely needed.

  “My father is still alive, Jordan. He lives back in Ireland with my half-brother.”

  Jordan blinks a few times. “What? What the hell are you doing here then? I naturally assumed your parents had died.”

  I nod, picking up my flute of champagne and taking back a hefty sip. After I swallow, I continue. “My mother did, yes. She was shot in the head, murdered.” Even though I never met her, it still makes me sick thinking about the way my sister and I came into this world. Only when my sister and I reached the age of eighteen did our godparents tell us the cruel reality of what happened.

  How a scorned lover never let her go, keeping his grudge until he had the opportune moment. Our mother was shot in the head while she was still pregnant with us. She was rushed to emergency surgery to deliver us and the doctors did everything they could to save her life. Only, it wasn’t enough.

  “Christ. I had no idea. I’m terribly sorry.” Jordan says, wrapping his arm around me. He pulls me close in a comforting manner.

  Just ahead of us in the VIP section I spot a girl snapping photos. She’s trying to be sly, though she isn’t. “Jesus, the Barbie over there must be hoping to get a payday from the paparazzi. Remember, we’re in a loving relationship.” I scoff, rolling my eyes.

  The paparazzi is horrific here. The tabloids have tied me with Jordan Steele far too many times to count. We met at a shoot I was at two years ago for one of his friends who has an evening gown line. He was shooting in the campaign to help give them a bit more publicity and we had shots of us that were chosen for a marketing campaign. The internet was flooded with people who believed we were two lovers, when in reality we’re friends who simply push one another’s buttons.

  “Shall I shout that you’re a disgusting cheater?” Jordan jokes.

  I jab him in the s
ide with my elbow. “Don’t be an ass. Sloane is being enough of one right now. I don’t need attitude from you.”

  “What’s going on with Sloane? I mean, only if you want to talk about it.”

  “I told her I want to go see our father. She isn’t a fan of the idea.”

  “I mean, can you blame her? She’s probably pissed he wasn’t ever around for you two. I could imagine that would be rather difficult, to grow up without a father, and to know he’s alive and well. It’s so fucked up.”

  “You realize you aren’t saying anything I don’t already know.” I grumble, taking another sip of this sweet drink.

  “Sorry, just trying to play the devil’s advocate.”

  “You’re accurate on one thing. Sloane is the devil.”

  “Oh, stop it. She isn’t that bad.” Jordan defends my sister.

  “Not that bad? You’re joking. She lit my dolls on fire when I was a child, Jordan. On fire.”

  Jordan breaks out into laughter. “Oh Greer, you’re hysterical.”

  I love how Jordan thinks this is funny. I remember many tears over my poor dolls. I relax a bit and sink back into the booth. Looking across the area, I see the booths on both sides of us are empty, something Jordan requested from his men no doubt.

  Jordan grabs the bottle of champagne from the center of our table and refills my glass. Pink and blue lights shine down from the ceiling, even some purple is mixed in. Bodies are packed in here, but of course it would be. New Year’s Eve is one of the biggest holidays for people to be in the club.

  “Jord’ . . . can I tell you a secret?” I ask, leaning my head on his shoulder. He knows I only call him Jord’ when something is super serious, like when he beat the shit out of my ex-fiancé Benji.