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Morally Decadent
(Morally Questionable Book 3)
Copyright© Veronica Lancet 2021
Beta Read by Oana D.
Edited by Alex M.
Cover and Formatting by Veronica Lancet
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
PREFACE
PLAYLIST
Prologue
PART I
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
PART II
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
PART III
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Afterword
What's next?
Morally Ambiguous Preview
PREFACE
DEAR READER,
Morally Decadent is the third book in the Morally Questionable series and is best enjoyed if Morally Corrupt and Morally Blasphemous are read first.
I would also like to bring your attention to two of the triggers in this book – animal abuse and child abuse. I have included chapter numbers in case you might want to skip those scenes.
The animal abuse depicted is not intentional, but may be hard to stomach by some readers since animals are used in a torture scene (chapter seventeen). The child abuse scenes feature molestation, with some scenes being more detailed than others (chapter fourteen). Please proceed with caution if this is something you are not comfortable with.
That being said, Enzo and Allegra are very dear to my heart and I hope you enjoy their journey as much as I loved telling their story.
Please be advised that while the couple in this book gets their HEA, there is a cliffhanger for the next book in the series.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: animal abuse, abuse, allusions to eating disorders/ body image, attempted rape, blood (gore), blood-play, bullying, child abuse, death, derogatory terms, dubious-consent, extreme depictions torture, guns, graphic violence, graphic sexual situations, incestuous situations, knife-play, manipulation, murder, molestation, rape, serious injury.
PLAYLIST
FOR THE FULL PLAYLIST click HERE or search Morally Decadent on Spotify.
Cat Pierce – You belong to me
Charlotte Lawrence - Joke's On You
Claire Wyndham – My Love Will Never Die
Deftones – Change
Dua Lipa & Angèle–Fever
Grandson – Blood // Water
Lo-fang – Every Night
Natasha Blume – Black Sea
Ruelle – Monsters
Sam Tinnesz - Watch Your Back
Start a War - Klergy with Valerie Broussard
Valerie Broussard–A little wicked
Prologue
A RED MIST COVERS MY eyes as I look at her pitiful form. She must have noticed the change in me because she's cowering in the corner, trying to keep a distance between us.
In two steps, I have her by the throat, squeezing the life out of her. It would be so easy. A little more pressure and I'd break her.
"What have you done, Allegra?" I ask her through gritted teeth. I already know the shit she's pulled, but I want to hear it from her own lips.
"Can't... breathe..." She squeaks, and I get the urge to tighten my grip. Finally snuff the life out of her.
"Tell me. What. Have. You. Done?" I enunciate each word, loosening my hold long enough for her to answer me.
"She fucking deserved it," she wheezes out, and I smack her against the wall. She whimpers in pain, but her expression doesn't change. It's a mix of defiance and malice that makes me sick to my stomach.
How could I have lived with her for so long?
"You're dead. You know that don't you?" The corner of my lip curls up in derision. She's been dead for a long time. I've just been biding my time.
"You... can't..." she stammers.
"Oh, really?" I ask ironically, and my fingers dig into her skin, stopping her airflow.
"Papa?" A tiny voice stops me dead in my tracks.
I turn around and watch with horror as my son steps into the room, his face full of worry.
"What are you doing to mamma?"
I immediately release her, and she staggers to her feet.
"Your mamma and I were just having a grown-up conversation." I explain to him, side-eyeing her to keep her mouth shut.
She was saved just now.
But not for long.
"Why don't you go to bed, Luca? I'll come read you a story in a few minutes." I urge him out of the room, and luckily he listens.
When he's out of sight, I turn back to face her—the bane of my existence.
She struggles to stand up, and she snickers at me.
"Can't kill me, can you? What will you tell your son?" She has a smug look on her face, convinced that Luca would save her.
Oh, how wrong she is.
"The truth." I take a few steps towards her. "That his mother was a fucking whore and a traitor to boot."
Her confidence disappears, and she instinctively falls down, her ass hitting the floor with a resounding thud. She drags herself backwards, her eyes wildly seeking an exit.
"I think he'd rather judge me for not killing you sooner." A cruel smile stretches on my face.
One more step.
Just one more step.
And she's dead.
PART I
If I could turn back time, I would choose death over him.
-From the diary of Allegra
Chapter One
9 YEARS AGO,
"BUT MISS," CECILIA, MY GOVERNESS, exclaims, following me around as I rummage through my cousin's closet.
"You can't talk me out of this, Lia. I'm doing it." I say as I grab a pair of pants that look like they might fit, considering my cousin is four years younger than me and hasn't completely gone through puberty yet.
"But Miss," she starts, her lip trembling slightly, "your wedding is in two weeks. What if something happens?" I stifle the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of my upcoming nuptials.
"Nothing will happen. I thought about everything. I will be gone just for one day, and I'll be back before midnight."
"If your pare
nts find out..." She shakes her head, already imagining the worst.
"They won't unless you tell them." Hands on my hips, I turn to her. "They are still in America, and chances are they will only come back right before the wedding." I arch an eyebrow, waiting for her to contradict me. Lia knows my parents couldn't care less about me–they have my sister for that.
"What if Signor Franzè finds out?" I take a deep breath, annoyed at the mere mention of his name.
Achille Franzè is my soon-to-be-husband and capo crimini of the Calabria 'Ndrangheta. A couple decades my senior, he's been my fiancé for the past five years. I've only met the man twice, though, and both times I'd been petrified of him. But my parents have been looking forward to this alliance so much that the wedding is to take place the day I turn eighteen–two weeks from now.
When the contract had been signed, the choice had been between my sister and I. Achille had been ambivalent; in his eyes, any young virginal bride would do. My parents, however, had seen an opening to get rid of me and save their precious daughter. They know that no happiness awaits me after the vows are spoken.
I may dread my future, but I'm also smart enough to know there is no way out. So many nights I'd made plans–how to run away, get a new identity, and live happily ever after. But those thoughts are reserved for when I go to sleep, when I can imagine myself living an entirely different life. The moment I defy my parents, or Achille, I'm dead.
I know it, and so does Lia, which is why she's so worried about me. I'm resigned to my fate, but I'm still a little selfish. I want one memory for myself–just one to keep me warm for the rest of my life.
I've never left my village; I've barely had access to technology; I've never even eaten good food, let alone enough food. I've simply known nothing but this bleak mansion that holds both my dearest memories but also my deepest fears. Is it so bad to want to experience something else just for one day?
Growing up, books were my only solace. There are only a few Italian titles in the library, all designed to stifle my knowledge and keep me in an ignorant bubble–convert me into the perfect idiotic bride. Most of the books are in English, Spanish, or French. But my parents didn't count on one thing–my desperation.
By chance, a duplicate title was available in both Italian and English, and so I pored over those letters for days, months, years on end, comparing words and sentence structures, until I learned the language. With difficulty, I switched to other English titles, but the more I immersed myself in this new tongue, the more familiar I became with it. And a new world opened up.
I read about Paris, and New York, about fashion, and exotic food; about art and history. These were things I knew to be forbidden, yet they delighted me more than anything. Most of all, they showed me how people who are free live. And I became greedy.
The more my wedding approached, the more restless I became, thinking about the unknown; about the paintings I'd never see, the chocolate I'd never taste; or the music I'd never hear. That curiosity grew to such a crescendo that I finally cracked. I studied every single map available, calculated distances and times, all towards one goal–live: if only for a day.
"He won't. He can't. I've been planning this for one year, Lia. I have the maps memorized; I know the roads inside out. I can do this. I'll just go to the city early in the morning and come back before midnight."
Milena, the village I was born in and never left, is a couple hours away from Agrigento, formerly one of the largest cities in Ancient Greece–and the home of countless ruins, museums, and restaurants. A short distance away from the sea, Agrigento will cover most of the items on my bucket list.
"But the guards..." Lia shakes her head. I get where she's coming from. She knows the risk I'm taking, but I find myself increasingly reckless just for that one taste of freedom.
"They'll think I'm sick. They won't know I'm gone." Dressed as a boy, I'd exit the house at dawn and ride my bike the whole distance to Agrigento. "Come on, Lia. You know how important this is to me." I add on a pleading tone, trying to sweeten her up. She's been more of a mother to me than my own.
"Won't you get tired? Two hours of riding your bike is a lot when you've never done that before." She purses her lips.
"I've taken that into consideration. Why do you think I've been running up and down the stairs for months now?"
When I say that I'd thoroughly planned, I really did. Even something as simple as physical condition, I'd accounted for. I'd risked getting sick from exercising too much without enough nourishment, but it had worked.
"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. Oh, may the Virgin Mary guard you." She does the sign of the cross over my body before sticking her fingers in her apron and handing me a few notes.
"Lia..." I stammer, tears gathering at the corner of my eyes. Money... she's giving me money when she has so little.
"You must accept this. Use it wisely, child." I don't let her finish as I wrap my arms around her.
"Thank you."
Although I'd planned everything to a T, insufficient funds were still an issue. I'd resolved to pawning a few gold rings, but now this money would ensure I'm safe even if that doesn't work out.
WHEN THE BIG CLOCK in the grand hall chimes three in the morning, I am ready. My bag is packed with all the necessities until I make it to Agrigento–maps, money, some food, and water. I swing the bag over my shoulder and tiptoe my way down the stairs. The guards should be asleep. Lia had helped me to douse the evening food and wine with Valerian. Their sleep will be uninterrupted, and it will be enough for me to make my escape.
The clothes I'd stolen from my cousin fit me–not surprisingly. A pair of gray pants, a lanky black shirt, and a white chemise I'd draped over since the night air can be chilly. I'd also donned a cap to hide my long hair. It's hard to believe that an (almost) eighteen-year-old girl would fit in the clothes of a fourteen-year-old boy, but when one's been on a strict diet for the last four years, with almost nothing but clear broth and some vegetables, one tends to be pretty small. I'd be willing to bet that no one could even tell that I am a girl. Not when I'm only skin and bone with no shape whatsoever. Because, apparently, Franzè prefers his women very thin.
Over the years, Lia had snuck some food here and there, but even that was hard to do, since she wasn't in charge of the groceries or cooking. My parents had given strict orders that everything fattening should be removed from the household. There had been a couple of times I'd tried to steal the guards' food, and beside it being an embarrassing experience, I'd been grounded for a week the first time, and a month every time after. The punishment had been even less food, so I'd quickly learned my lesson.
I make my way towards the back of the house where I'd discovered a hole in the fence. Since I'm pretty small, I can easily fit through the opening.
I push the bag down first before flattening myself to the ground. I crawl forward, and in a few movements I'm on the other side. Grabbing my backpack, I don't linger anymore and I dash out of the alleyway.
We'd planned everything, and Lia had hidden an old bike in the bushes a few streets down. Fishing the key to the lockout of my pocket, I unlock the bike and put my bag in the front basket. I unfold the map and secure it in the basket so I can easily reach for it on the road. Then I hop on and start pedaling.
The sun is coming up in the sky, and the light makes it easier to see where I'm going. On the way, I only stop a couple times to gulp down some water and munch on some food. Even though my legs are hurting, by my calculations, I should be pretty close to Agrigento.
Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I push forward.
Just a little more.
I pedal and pedal, and finally, I can see something in the distance. Buildings start to take shape and my heart speeds up just thinking about it. I'm so close... I blink twice, my eyes already teary with both elation and fear. I need to soak everything in.
Taking a deep breath, I stop and check my map again. An older model, I've already accounted that it might no
t have all the new buildings and establishments. Still, I'd made a short itinerary.
I would go into Agrigento, visit the library, go to a coffee shop and a restaurant. I'd reserved a little time for walking around before heading to the ruins, a short distance south from the city. Then I'd continue south to reach the beach. I smile to myself, the thought of experiencing that for the first time making me burst with excitement.
Putting the map away, I settle back in the saddle and I continue my journey. A few miles in, buildings appear on both sides of the highway. There are cars going in front and behind me, and for all the novelty of that, I can't muster any fear. I pedal faster, feeling the warm-chilly breeze brushing past my face, goosebumps appearing on my body. I increase my speed, breathing in the fresh air.
Free! I feel free!
My lips stretch into a wide smile and I grin like a fool. So many times I'd tried to imagine this... I look right and left and I imprint everything in my memory. The sights, the smells, the pure feeling of freedom. I stock it all up, knowing it's limited.
The highway winds down into multiple smaller streets, and I follow the exit marked on my map. Going down the hill, the buildings become more crowded together, creating an urban feeling I'm entirely unfamiliar with.
My village is simple, and aside from my family's house, which could be considered the most ostentatious in the region, the rest of the houses are modest, the roads small and unkempt. As I keep on pedaling, I'm amazed at the different architectures, the colors of the buildings and some of their sizes.
Given that I'm on my bike, it's quite easy to abandon the main street and go down alleyways. Just like the streets, they are narrow, going up and down and following the shape of the hill—making my journey even more tiring. Keeping up with the marked road on my map, I traverse a few alleyways, heading straight for the city center.
Sparing a glance at my watch, I realize I'd made perfect time — it's almost eight in the morning. I pass by a few shops and their schedules all show they open at nine. I'm a little disappointed because that's an hour unaccounted for in my schedule. I'm feeling panic creep up, so I take a deep breath.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 1