"Did it go how you would have expected?" He asks, and I have to think for a few seconds.
"Yes and no. Yes, because I realize I don't know this Bianca at all. Who would have imagined that I would be pouring over blueprints with my wife, planning to install listening devices in an Italian mob boss's home? No, because even knowing what I know, I can't help but still feel drawn to her."
"She is completely different. I think it's mostly her countenance and her voice. She no longer has that upspeak that always made her look insecure."
"You're right, now that you mention it. The cadence of her voice is completely different. Also, emotionless."
"Really?" Marcel gives me a side look. "I thought there was enough emotion in her when she jumped on you."
"Did you even hear what she was saying? She was romanticizing killing. What does she think that we can suddenly become Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" I ask almost absentmindedly, but I notice Marcel frown.
"Man... don't tell me you don't know the reference." When he doesn't answer, I add dryly. "I forgot you have no life outside your work. It's about this couple who are both secret assassins and get their happily ever after."
He chuckles at my brief description. "You say that, but I don't think I've heard you talk about separation or divorce yet." I ponder his words and have to admit he is right. While I saw our relationship in limbo, I didn't dare to think beyond that.
"I guess it's inevitable." I allow uncertainly.
"Is it? We'll see." Marcel says cryptically.
"What about you?" I give him a conspiratory smile.
"Me? What about me?"
"Come on, don't tell your reaction to Agosti's sister was nothing. Did you know her?" The moment the words are out of my mouth, Marcel tenses, his fingers almost trembling on the steering wheel.
"Oh, really?" He tries to put on a fake smile.
"Yeah, what was that about?" Why I don't drop it, I don't know. Maybe because in all our years of friendship, I've never known Marcel to even look twice in the direction of a woman, least of all react to one.
"I knew her briefly. A long time ago."
"So mysterious. Did you guys date or something?"
"I wanted to marry her." He says quietly.
"Shit! What happened? Vlad said she's missing?"
"I don't know... I still don't know." He repeats the words over and over again, his voice straining.
"Man..." I'm about to say when Marcel suddenly hits the breaks and we are both flung forward. Luckily our seatbelts stop us from serious injury. I immediately get out of the car to see if we hit an animal or something, exhaling in relief when there's no evidence of impact.
"Shit. That was a close one!" I mention as I get back into the car.
Marcel is bent over the steering wheel, his head cradled between his arms. I can hear him sobbing softly.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He keeps on repeating. I want to comfort him, but I know he doesn't like to be touched, so I just sit next to him in silence, waiting for whatever ghost of the past is bothering him to disappear.
That night I realized just how little I knew about my most trusted friend.
CHAPTER XXXII
"Do I look ok?" I'm looking at the mirror, adjusting the hem of my dress. It’s a black cocktail dress with a cinched waist reminiscent of 50s dresses and a flaring skirt. I'd left my hair hanging down my shoulders and kept my make-up light, only applying some mascara and some red lipstick
"Of course, little goddess," Vlad replies almost mechanically from his seat on the chair. He's swirling bourbon in a glass, not really paying attention to me.
"Vlad!" I turn to him and wait to get his attention.
"What?" He finally snaps out of whatever trance he'd been in.
"Never mind." I shake my head and lift my skirt to reveal a pair of biker shorts. I proceed to sheath the obsidian knives I'd reluctantly accepted instead of a 3D printed pistol. I had to be smart with this, so I sheathed one right on my inner thigh. We'd also decided to place the bugs in my cleavage since it was the least likely spot to be searched. For my bag, I'd chosen a small clutch that had a camera within the bag logo. While Vlad hadn't been too particular about that, he hadn't denied being curious about who Enzo would invite.
"I don't remember you mentioning a conflict with Enzo before," I add. I'd been wondering about that since yesterday's meeting.
"It's not exactly a conflict as much as it is a mutual understanding to not get in each other's way."
"But? There's more. He did come to you with an offer. So spill."
"He only came to me out of necessity and because I'm already established in the city. Our problems stem from years back when he first got married. We used to be friendly before that, but he accused me of sleeping with his wife of all things. We got into a fight, didn't end up very pretty."
"Did you?"
"Hell no. You've met the bitch. She's the sleaziest piece of shit I've ever met. She came onto me so many times and then told him I was the instigator." He shakes his head in disgust. "Truly vile." I'd never heard Vlad speak that way of a woman. For him to call her a bitch... But I'd met the woman... and she’s sleeping with Martin now. Really, what did I expect?
"He didn't believe you."
"Nope. They'd just had a kid and accused me of taking advantage of her emotional state and whatnot."
"I'm surprised he didn't pursue it further. He seems the type."
"He did, for a while. But he quickly realized he'd have to fight the entire city. It's not a secret now that his wife sleeps with anything that walks. On that note, I'd keep your husband away from her. She doesn't take no for an answer."
"If he knows she's like that, why didn't you reconcile?"
"By then, pride got in the way. And he already started getting involved with people I don't particularly care for, or approve of. And there's also that vendetta of his against the Lastra's. Safe to say we have conflicting interests."
"I see. I'll take note of that."
"Just don't be too obvious. Enzo is many things, but a fool he is not. Make sure he can't see through your facade."
"Don't worry. I've had enough practice." I smooth over my skirt, and Vlad lets me know Theo is already outside. Or should I call him Adrian now? I think it might take me some getting used to. At least now, I can make sense of where all those repressed control issues come from.
"Break a leg." Vlad winks at me before heading to his study. Since I've been staying with him for a few days now, I couldn't help but notice that something might be wrong with him. There are moments when he seems lost in his head, but it's more than daydreaming. It's like he is in a trance. His good humor also seems more strained than usual.
Heading out of the house, I put my concerns out of my mind, focusing on the mission first.
Exiting, I see Adrian, black tuxedo on, leaning on his car and waiting for me. When he looks up and sees me coming towards him, his expression changes ever so slightly, and I know he likes what he's seeing. I have to be incredibly careful, though. This will be our first real interaction with all cards on the table. I have to show him how good it can be between us - the real us.
"Let's go!" It's all he says, and I get in the car—one step at a time.
"I envy you." I start trying to find some common ground. He seems surprised, so I just continue. "You can kill with your bare hands. I wish I could do that." When he hears that, he frowns, his mouth changing shape as if he wants to say something but just shakes his head.
"You envy that," He asks as if not quite believing my words.
I must try harder.
"Yes. You have the advantage of strength. My punches can barely do any damage. I usually bank on speed, though." I say, proud of myself for also inserting a small praise. He must see that I don't hold his past against him. It's actually very attractive.
"Sure... so you've never killed anyone barehanded?" He asks, not quite looking at me, but then again, he is watching the road. I take this as a sign that he's willing t
o engage in conversation.
"Not really. I usually only use guns. Sometimes knives. Don't like knives, though. Too messy." I answer immediately. The homeless man I’d killed a few days ago does come to mind, but is that kill even noteworthy? It was too one-sided.
"So, you don't like blood?" He inquires, and for a moment, I panic. He was a fighter. That means blood. What if he likes blood? What if he will hold it against me that I don't like blood? Well, not necessarily don't like, but it's sticky, and it stains and... A flash of brain matter smeared on my knuckles almost makes me want to gag.
"B, it was just a question." He says after a while, his eyes regarding me with concern. I realize I'd been fidgeting while I was debating in my head what the best answer was. Real. I have to be authentic. I let out a breath and tell him just that.
"Then why kill at all? If you don't enjoy the blood? Why seek it?"
"It gives me a purpose."
"Purpose?" He frowns at my word choice. Yes, I have to be real. Why is it that now that I'm sober, my brain seems to respond to things differently?
It feels odd.
"Yes. You remember Drew, my bodyguard. After Jenna's death, he taught me how to channel my anger in meaningful ways."
"Killing?"
"Well, yes. He knew I would probably do it again, so he did what he thought best at the time."
"Go on."
"Drew introduced me to the Russians, and then I got partnered with Vlad. Many of our assignments were strictly Bratva enemies, but I got to choose my targets after a while. So I sought the vilest predators and took them out."
"Predators?"
"People who prey on children. On innocents. It was the only time I could feel something. Yeah, I don't care about blood and gore... much. But I do care that those people suffer. I've probably done my fair share of torture at some point. But usually, I prefer a neat kill."
"This isn't a normal conversation." He smiles to himself.
"I'm not normal, I told you." And then I frown. "You're not normal, either. For someone who claims to have empathy, how do you reconcile the deaths on your conscience?" I don't think much of the question, merely curiosity. But for him, it doesn't seem to be. His expression immediately darkens.
"Why do you think I ever reconciled it?"
"You haven't? Sorry, I just don't really understand. I know how I function because I don't really care. I don't assign the same value to human life that other people do. Vlad is the same. You're not...and yet? You must have killed a couple hundred in your time in the pits."
"That I did." He's silent for a moment before continuing. "You have your purpose, and I have mine. And so whatever sacrifices I made along the road were for that purpose."
"Getting revenge on Jimenez?" He nods.
"What after then?"
The car stops at that exact moment, and I see we've arrived. Adrian turns to me and regards me for a while. I can see in his eyes that he hasn't considered the What then?
We exit the car after handing the keys to a valet. There is indeed a security check, and they are insanely thorough. Luckily, my dagger was on my inner thigh as they patted my outer. After we successfully pass security, I loop my arm through Adrian’s, and we proceed inside.
"Act natural," I tell him as I feel him stiffen. I don't want to consider that he might actually be disgusted by me physically, so I push that thought away.
"There you are." Enzo comes up to us in the hallway, beaming. He shakes Adrian's hand and kisses both my cheeks.
"You look spectacular as always, Bianca." Enzo praises me, and I have to remember to plaster on my social smile. I forcefully tug my lips upwards, and I see Adrian watching me, a smile playing on his lips. He's learning my cues.
"Please enjoy yourselves." He turns to leave, but I clear my throat and ask.
"Where is the birthday girl. We need to wish her a happy birthday, right darling?" I bat my eyelashes at Adrian, and he tightens his hold on me.
"Indeed. And where is the special guest?" Adrian changes the topic, asking about Jimenez.
"Allegra is probably with your father around here, somewhere." He answers, and he doesn't seem particularly put off by his wife's blatant infidelity. "The special guest has failed to make an appearance. An intermediary has shown up, however." Enzo seems more disappointed at Jimenez's absence than at his wife's cuckolding him. Odd.
"Maybe we can all get together later on," Adrian suggests, and Enzo accepts before excusing himself to greet other guests.
"Let's do this." I take his hand again, and we enter the ballroom.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Enzo leads us into the ballroom before excusing himself to greet the rest of the guests. We step into the big room, and there are already too many people. I see a lot of familiar faces, some of them deeply entrenched in local and national politics. It figures that Enzo’s connections would include the most powerful men.
"I should have expected Martin to make an appearance," Bianca states, nudging me towards the couple on the dance floor. Martin is twirling Allegra on the dance floor, both of them already seeming intoxicated.
"I don't recall seeing your father drunk before." I add, pensively. Martin’s always been the stoic type, too set on control to relinquish any to alcohol.
"He doesn't drink in public. Or at least he didn't use to. Clearly, Allegra has changed that." We are not the only people staring at them in dismay. I shake my head and try to scan the room for other familiar faces, making mental notes.
The party is full of older men, most of them accompanied by younger counterparts. Not a surprise there. The surprise is seeing respected people from politics, especially men I'd personally met at the mayor's office. At no point had I suspected they were involved with the mob. This goes to show how deep the corruption runs in this country. And I'd bet that the women hanging on their arms are not their wives. My lips turn up in distaste, and I sneak a quick glance at Bianca to gauge her reaction.
She's as blank as always.
"Let's get some drinks and mingle for a while." She says and points towards the bar at the end of the room. I nod, and we head there. Bianca gets a glass of champagne while I get a bourbon.
"I hope you don't plan to actually drink that." She whispers.
"Why?"
"Rule number one: you never drink on a mission. Just pretend to drink and every so often empty it into flowerpots."
"But the flowers..." She doesn't let me finish as she pinches me.
"Empty it in the flowerpot." She says a bit more forcefully before turning her head and plastering a big smile on her face. I take her cue and turn my attention forward to see Allegra and Martin heading our way. Both look giddy and flushed from the dancing.
"Bianca!" Martin exclaims and hugs his daughter. Bianca's expression immediately turns sour, but she doesn't shove Martin away. Instead, she's patting his back almost reluctantly while looking at me for help. I shrug. I have never seen Martin like this, and I don't know how to deal with him. He seems to be whispering something in her ear before Bianca turns to me.
"We'll be right back. He has something urgent to talk about." She doesn't seem too glad to go with him, and I really wonder what the urgent thing is..
It's only when they are out of sight that I realize I'm left with Allegra. She puckers her lips at me before scrunching her face.
"I think I'm going to be ill. Can you help me to the restroom?" She slurs, and my shoulders slump in resignation. I take her arm and let her guide me to one of the bathrooms. Since I know fully well where all the bathrooms are on this floor, I am surprised when I see that she's taking me in a completely different direction. Is she that drunk that she doesn't remember where the bathroom is in her own house?
I'm about to ask where we are going when she points towards a door and gleefully says.
"There," and then dashes for the door. I take a moment where I wonder if I should really go there, but somehow I feel bad leaving a clearly inebriated woman to her own devices, no matter how rep
ulsive.
And so I follow through.
As soon as I close the door behind me, there is a quick movement in which Allegra reverses our positions and thrusts me into the room, which I now see is just a sizable closet storage, before she locks the door. Whaaat?
"I've been watching you." She purrs in a much clearer voice than before.
"Mrs. Agosti," I try to put some distance between us.
"Come on, your wife isn't here. I know you've been watching me too." What? When? I don't think I've ever spared her more than two glances, tonight included, and I try to tell her exactly that.
"I'm sorry. I think you got the wrong impression." I explain, using my hands to gesticulate and keep her at bay.
"Mr. Hastings. You are so, so naughty." She says in that weird voice of hers as she keeps advancing towards me and deeper into the storage closet until I'm backed against the wall. Shit. She puts her hands on my pectorals and starts groping me. I grip her arms and attempt to stop her again by pushing her and trying to bypass her in my way to the door. Her arms suddenly come in contact with my shoulders, and she pushes me against the wall.
"You like to play hard, don't you?" She half-moans, fitting herself against my body, her hand going directly to my crotch this time. Good Lord, I don't hit women, but I truly want to smack her right now.
"No. And I would appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself." I say through gritted teeth, trying to control myself so I don't hurt her. She doesn't seem to register my words as she squeezes me through my pants.
Ok, that's it. I'm not playing nice anymore. I'm about to push her away when the closet door forcefully opens, revealing Bianca. She takes one look at us, and her eyes cloud with fury. She doesn't waste any time ripping Allegra off me and grabbing her throat, pushing her against the wall and almost lifting her off the floor.
"You think to touch my husband?" Bianca's fingers tighten around Allegra’s neck, restricting her breathing.
"Agh," Allegra makes a choking sound, but Bianca doesn't stop.
Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1) Page 19