Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1)

by Veronica Lancet

  "When are you coming home?" I ask with a smile on my face.

  “After seven. I have a few meetings. Will you be at the Foundation all day?"

  "Yes, we are having an event in a couple of weeks, so I have to approve all expenditures."

  "I'm proud of you." His hands-on my hips, he turns me around to give me a breathless kiss.

  "Enough of this. You'll be late."

  "I'd always be late if it means one more kiss from you," he replies sneakily. I playfully punch him.

  "Love you, now go."

  "Love you too, sweetie!" he gives me one last glance before grabbing his briefcase and taking off.

  Sweetie... Love... I sometimes wonder if he really loves me or just who I am for him. Could he even love me if he knew the real me? The answer is no, and I'm painfully aware of it.

  I was sixteen when I first saw him. He'd been fresh out of Quantico mingling with different prospective employers at one of my father's many banquets. I was not supposed to be there, but that hadn't been the first time I'd done something I was not supposed to. That night was the night my obsession with Theo started, and it's never stopped. I remember seeing him in the ballroom, from my hiding place on the veranda. He'd been engaging in conversation with two older men, and he had this severe countenance devoid of any arrogance that just intrigued me. When he'd turned, and I glimpsed his face, I saw my future reflected in his eyes. I knew without a doubt that he was mine, and one day I'd possess him. It hadn't taken me long to find out everything about him and put my plan into motion. It would be another three years before I would officially meet him.

  He was just getting his start in the mayor's office and was looking at my father for support, and I was the young daughter of a man he knew and looked up to. Those circumstances had been nothing if not fortuitous, for I'd had the advantage of my parentage and a wealth of information on his preferences. I'm not ashamed to say that I'd used that information to craft myself into his dream woman.

  Innocent, sweet, vulnerable.

  Theo had a savior complex. And I just needed to play the damsel in distress. Not that it was too hard with my unyielding father and seemingly restricted upbringing. He’d taken one look at my cowering self and had immediately come to my rescue.

  He also liked delicate and nurturing women.

  I was neither.

  But I made myself into one.

  Two years of sporadic encounters followed by a year of slow courtship, and I knew I'd won him. Now, three years of marriage later, and my innocent persona had become a second skin. Nurturing, however, that was still hard. It did not help that he's been bringing up children for a while now, and I don't know how much longer I can put him off.

  I do not see myself as a mother, but more than anything else, I do not want to share him with another being. He is mine, only mine. He thinks we've been trying for the past year, but I've been secretly getting the shot.

  There are just so many things that if my husband found out, he would never forgive me.

  With one last glance in the mirror, I pick up my bag and head out.

  For the past five years, I've been involved with a Foundation for the fight against homelessness that my father founded. Why? I'm sure you've guessed by now. Homelessness is an issue that is very dear to Theo's heart. After his parents died when he was a teenager, he spent some time on the streets to avoid foster homes. Through his intelligence and sheer determination, he finished high school and then put himself through college, getting merit scholarships and working part-time jobs to support himself. In the beginning, he'd wanted to become a lawyer because he'd seen too much injustice in the world.

  But Theo wasn't a small-scale type of man. He was a visionary. He wanted to save everyone, and so he'd gone into law enforcement. Now he was Chief Commissioner for NYPD and a trusted friend to the mayor. And I, through my charitable efforts and my connections, was the perfect wife for him. An image I intended to keep.

  I drop by the Foundation and check all the documents. I wasn't exactly lying when I told him I'd be at the Foundation; it just wouldn’t take the whole day. As Director, I do have a lot of responsibilities and things to keep up with. I don't necessarily enjoy it, and given the size of my trust fund, I shouldn't even work. But it makes for a good cover when I need to leave the house. I speed through a couple of meetings with the staff and take my leave for the day.

  I get in my car and drive to my spare apartment in Midtown. It's a property registered in my late mother's name that I got when I was eighteen. More than an apartment, it's a haven for me and my vices. Since it's almost past midday, the traffic is awful, so it takes a while for me to reach the apartment.

  The place has three bedrooms, but only one of them is functional. One of the bedrooms I transformed into an armory, and it houses all my priceless possessions: my guns, rifles, knives, and protective gear. It also has tracking technology and listening devices.

  The other bedroom is now a big closet, and it contains all my disguises. It has a wall-length wardrobe with different outfits and another panel with wigs and complementary accessories that make all the difference when wanting to become someone else. A few mannequins are clothed in disguises that are particularly dear to my heart. In the middle is the one that I remember most fondly: a pink bob cut wig, a tight purple dress that barely covers the butt, fishnets, and a pair of high boots. I close my eyes as I fondly remember my first taste of Theo.

  Like all young white-collar workers, he'd taken to frequenting this strip club in East Village. Theo may be the most righteous man I know, but even he can't resist a pair of tits and an inviting smile. That's when I realized that for all his serious demeanor in day-to-day life he's rough and dominant in the bedroom. He'd fucked me seven ways to Sunday, and I still wanted more. But for all our lengthy affair, I was only a prostitute to him, not Bianca Ashby.

  Because Bianca Ashby would never step foot in a strip club; would never be taken roughly; would always be treated like a porcelain doll.

  Bianca Ashby wasn't fucked; she was only made love to.

  That's probably my biggest regret in how Theo sees me. He's never tried to be anything but sweet and tender in bed. Even when I'd suggested trying something a little spicier, he'd raised an eyebrow and asked jokingly if I'd discovered porn, and that sex in real life is not like in porn. After that, I hadn't brought it up again, realizing it was a moot point. I was too fragile for him. To be protected at all times, even from other more non-conventional aspects of desire.

  I make my way to the bedroom, looking under the bed for a box that housed another one of my long-term vices. This one I was probably the most ashamed of. I quickly retrieve the box and open it to find countless small packets of white powder. I pocket one and put everything in place. With shaky fingers, I line up some powder on the desk next to the bed, and using a small straw, I inhale two lines. Cleaning my nose of residue powder, I take a seat and open my computer.

  A few years ago, I would have denied having an addiction to my dying breath. Now, after enduring withdrawal symptoms several times, I've finally accepted it. I'm an addict.

  It’s funny how it all started. Sadly, I didn't realize how reliant I was on coke until I went through the worst withdrawal symptoms. Until then, I'd told myself that I was taking it because I could and because it gave me single-minded focus when it came to my pursuits. I can still remember the first time I tried it.

  I was nineteen, and I'd just found out about the strip club Theo frequented. When I was going to college full time, I would often go the club, hoping to catch him. I'd managed to convince management to give me a waitress position. It was finals season, and I was spending all day studying and all night in that damned club. At the end of my first full week, I could barely stand on my feet, and Theo had still not shown up. In one of my breaks, I'd been outside the club hoping the night's cold air would wake me up. I'd bummed a cigarette off a guy, and he’d commented on my incessant yawning.

  "I have just the thing." He'd sai
d and showed a hint of white in his pocket. I’d lifted my eyebrow in question, and he’d motioned to the alley next to the club. Now, I know it's not safe to go with an unknown guy in a dark alley. I mean, it's a poster scenario for assault. But at that point, I was tired and maybe a little curious. I went with him and saw how he lined up the powder on the back of his hand and sniffed. I copied his movements, and it didn't take long for the power to kick in. It also didn't take long for the asshole to put his hands on me. I mean, really? What did I expect?

  "What the fuck?" I spat when his hand had gone to my waist and up.

  "Oh, come on, you didn't think that was free?" He smirked.

  "How much? I'll pay you." I shoved his hand away and was prepared to give him the cash, but then he replied.

  "I don't want money. I want..." He said, leering at me. His hand went directly to my breast this time, but I anticipated it. My trained instincts, coupled with the magic powder, kicked in, and I twisted his arm behind his back. Using my foot, I kicked the back of his knees and shoved him to the ground. My other hand went directly to my boot, where I withdrew a small knife. Holding it to his neck, I snickered.

  "I told you I would give you cash."

  But the more I thought about it, the madder I became. I shoved harder at his tendons with my boot. "You dare touch me? No one touches me, do you understand?" No one but my Theo, the words went unsaid.

  I was still holding the knife to his neck, and I didn't even notice when it began digging into his flesh, and blood trickled down.

  "Please…" the man almost started wailing, and the sound of him at my mercy gave me a rush. Or maybe it was the drug?

  "What was the thing you gave me?"

  "C -C-Cocaine. " He stammered, and I gave him one last shove. Moving in front of him, I wiped the knife slowly on his shirt and told him.

  "Next time when a woman says no, it's no." He nodded fervently.

  "Run before I change my mind." He'd taken off like a scared rabbit.

  Sheathing my knife, I returned to my post at the club, and lo and behold, my night took a turn for the best. Theo was there.

  Maybe my love for the magic powder developed because I associated it with my first sexual encounter with Theo. Perhaps that's what I told myself every time I went to that club. Eventually, if I went too many days without it, my hands would begin to shake. For a trained killer, shaking is the worst thing that can happen. After that, it became a necessity, and my addiction solidified.

  Could I give it up? Yes, I could. But that would probably mean rehab, which in turn would mean an absence from home and the potential of Theo finding out precisely what I've been up to these past few years.

  I let a loud sigh and shake myself from my wandering thoughts. I am looking at my computer screen, waiting for a reply from a weapons supplier I'd contacted on the dark web. He had a new experimental rifle that I've been dying to get my hands on. Problem was? It wasn't strictly legal, and the few shipments that made it to the States had to be delivered personally by an intermediary due to the rarity of the pieces and their price range. This toy would definitely set me back quite a bit.

  I have men in New York next week if you are interested

  I read the text, and I take a minute to think about a potential meeting location. I usually do not like to use the same place twice for meetups, but this is too short notice to scout an area and ensure safety protocols. I'd have to use one of the hotels I've used in the past. I immediately decide on the Hotel Empire since I know the layout pretty well, and I have a few exit routes should I require any. I make a call and book room 204 for next week under one of my fake identities.

  Hotel Empire Room 204 14th May 2:00 PM

  Ok

  After seeing his reply, I close the connection and put my laptop aside, excitement brimming inside of me. In just under a week, I'd have a new toy to play with. It'd been too long since my latest purchase, which I'd used a few days before on those criminals. It was an excellent rifle, but I needed something slightly faster to reload since there were a few close calls in that encounter. I really hope this new one would be able to perform better.

  Getting out of the room, I quickly check the time and realize I must have lost track of it since it’s a little over three. I go to my armory and pick up the new tracking device I'd recently gotten along with some new surveillance stuff. I always have something on Theo, but the last one must have gotten lost at some point since I haven't been able to monitor his movements or listen to his phone in a while. Not since before the meeting with Martinez, actually. I shake my head, not wanting to even entertain the thought that he could have found the devices. They must have broken, or maybe he lost them? I just needed to install the new ones.

  Maybe to some people, it seems wrong that I continuously monitor Theo. Still, knowing his obsession with catching one of the biggest drug lords in America, this is the only way to ensure his safety.

  CHAPTER II

  “Look here.”

  I am in my office with my trusted friend Marcel. We’re looking at a map of the docks and the surrounding area. Marcel is the only one that knows what happened two days ago and why exactly I'd gone to meet Martinez.

  However, what was most surprising about that encounter was that Martinez’s men had been shot dead by someone. Marcel had spent hours reproaching me that it had not been safe to go alone and that he’d warned me. He was right. I had been very naive about the entire situation. After the shooting had stopped, I'd taken an additional risk in getting the flash drive from Martinez's dead body. I am not proud of what I'd done, but I'd gone there with every intention of a fair exchange. He'd been the one to bring reinforcements.

  But the bigger question remained who shot his men. It had been from a distance, as I had not been able to see anyone. More importantly, it had targeted Martinez's people exclusively. Grimly, I have to acknowledge that whoever it was probably saved my life.

  But why?

  Marcel is pointing at probable locations for the shooter given the angle, and one of them happens to be a hotel a few blocks away from the docks.

  "You really think this could be it?"

  "Yeah, it's either this or the Ukrainian restaurant next to it. It's not too far, but not too close either. From what you described, though, whoever it was knew what they were doing, and they were fast about it."

  "Yeah. It was all surreal. I've never been so scared in my life. For a moment, I really didn't think I'd make it."

  "I told you it wasn't safe to go alone."

  "I know, but I really needed the drive."

  "And now you know they wanted to trick you." He admonishes, referring to the fact that the drive was empty.

  "I just don't get why they would try to kill me. I was only asking for information, and that wasn't even on their cartel."

  "Maybe this is bigger than we previously suspected," he says after thinking for a while

  "I don't know. I don't even know where to go from here, except I really want to find the shooter."

  "I'll get the security tapes from the hotel and restaurant. It will require we pull in some favors, though. You know it's Russian territory."

  "And we'll use that to our advantage. They probably already know about the shooting. It is in their interest to find a rogue sniper, no? On their turf, no less."

  "I'll give a call to Vlad. He should be able to get us access to the tapes."

  "Great, let me know."

  A few hours later, Marcel comes back with the excellent news that Vlad had gotten him access to both locations' feeds. We take a car and head to Brighton Beach to inspect the footage.

  Upon arriving, we are met by two men. The first one is massive, his bald head covered in tattoos. He isn’t precisely friendly-looking. The other man is just as tall but leaner. He’s dressed in a sleek, black suit and has a pair of sunglasses on. As he spots us, he beams.

  "Ah, Hastings. Fancy meeting you again, and in our area." Vlad flashes me a smile and winks at Marcel.

 
; "Thank you for the footage," I reply, knowing it will be a favor for a favor.

  "No worries, you know how this works. Now let's go in. We want to catch this shooter of yours too. Not good for the business, you know."

  I nod and proceed inside with Marcel and Vlad's massive friend, who seems to always stand behind Vlad in a protective stance. We go to the restaurant first and quickly sift through their limited footage but with no luck. The hotel is a bit trickier since they have more cameras, and as such, we have to be more vigilant. We play the footage for that whole day.

  "There's no one suspicious going in. Since it's a sniper, they must have something to carry the equipment." Marcel comments.

  "There's no one going in, but look here." I point towards the high schooler carrying a violin case. "Would that be big enough for a sniper rifle?"