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

by Veronica Lancet

  “But why? Just because he was inquiring about your father?”

  “Why, you ask?” He laughs sarcastically. “It’s more than that… Martin had a deal with Jimenez to merge their businesses. The goal’s always been getting onto the New York market, and Martin was the perfect tool. A marriage between you and me would have cemented the alliance and everyone could have profited. But Martin was a greedy bastard. He thought that someone in a position of legitimate power would serve him better than Jimenez… so he gave you to Hastings.

  Of course, it’s not only that. By also allying himself with the Italians, Martin thought he was getting the best of both worlds, legal protection and access to the Italians’ resources.”

  “So you gave orders to have Martin killed too?” Finally, the pieces are falling in place.

  “Yes, but I had my father’s blessing for that. Martin was a treacherous dog. Jimenez was happy to get rid of him.”

  "So if not for Martin’s machinations, we would have been married already?”

  “Indeed.” He answers smoothly.

  “Then tell me, why would I choose you over him now?" I change my tactic, trying to seem as mercenary as Martin. He doesn't know about my relationship with Adrian. Few people know. And from the outside, we are the perfect high society pair. I can work with that. "Tell me, what are the perks for... joining you?"

  "Why, you'd be a queen, of course. I'm going to take over my father's empire. And you'd be by my side. We were already fated to be, if not for your father." The way he's telling this, it's like he actually believes his delusions.

  "Hmm... tempting." I drawl seductively.

  "You're quite quick to throw your husband away." He strokes my cheek, and I have to keep myself from shuddering in disgust. I smile, instead. "It was my daddy's desire to marry Theo... I couldn't say no."

  "And you did everything your daddy told you, didn't you?"

  "Of course." I pout my lips. "Why would I marry that stuffy man otherwise?" I feel the bitterness of the words on my tongue as I say them.

  "Indeed..." His lips stretch into a dangerous smirk. "You'll have to forgive me if I don't believe everything you say." Hmm, so he's not that dumb.

  Fine, I can work with that.

  "I wouldn't lie about it. I'm at your mercy, aren't I?" I give him a tremolos smile, showing a hint of vulnerability. I have to make this as believable as possible.

  "That you are..." He removes a knife from his back pocket and starts trailing it up and down my cheek. "You're so beautiful... unblemished..." His words are wistful as he focuses on my face.

  "Tell me, does it bother you to look at me?" He asks, referring to the glaring scar on his cheek.

  "Of course not," I reply, almost too fast. Shit. "I've always had a thing for bad boys." I amend my answer, hoping to stroke his ego a little.

  "And you think I got this scar because I was a bad boy?" He chuckles derisively. "On the contrary, I got this because I was a good boy." His gaze moves above my head, and somehow, I know he's not talking to me anymore. "You see... my father said I looked too much like my mother." He laughs at that. "And he couldn't have that... no... not when he raped her so brutally for years that she finally took her own life to escape from him." Shit... that came out of nowhere. "He said I reminded him too much of her... of her screams. So, he branded me."

  I don't know how to reply to that, mainly because I don't want to say something that might set him off. So, I let him continue with his soliloquy.

  "But do you know what he did for that husband of yours? He personally trained him." I almost frown. Why is he suddenly mentioning Adrian? He clearly has daddy issues.

  "You do know, don't you? That your precious law-abiding husband used to kill people in illegal fights." My mouth forms a big O, and I try to show him my most surprised expression.

  "What... what are you talking about?"

  "So, you didn't know, did you...?" He laughs. "I don't know what he saw in him. I did everything my father wanted me to. I led his cartel. It was my plan to use the Gallaghers to take over New York. And how does he repay me?" He snickers. "He's still more concerned about your husband. He told me to leave you alone because you belong to him."

  He gets in my face, his lips a mere breath away from mine.

  "And you know what? I'm done obeying. You are mine. The empire is mine." He spits out before his lips are on mine; the pressure almost unbearable.

  For a second, I feel like I can't do this, but then I remember his threats regarding Adrian. He hates him. He wants to kill him... Saying I'm sorry to Adrian in my mind, I return the kiss. He needs to believe that I'm willing to readily switch sides if he will ever trust me enough to free me.

  Then, it's game on.

  His tongue sweeps in, and I have to will my body to not gag as I respond. He seems surprised by my easy acquiescence. Ending the kiss, he slyly looks into my eyes.

  "I almost believe you meant it."

  "I told you." I say, and eyeing the cross at his neck, I immediately add, "I don't owe my husband anything except my allegiance before God. After you take him out, I'm yours." I really hope this will work. He takes a step back and regards me quizzically, as if he doesn't know whether to trust my words.

  "That so?" He muses. I take this chance to cement my position.

  "Of course. I've only ever slept with my husband, and only after our wedding vows." I'm really banking on him being an honest thief at this point. But seeing that he hasn't raped me until now, or when I was unconscious, I'm willing to bet there's more to him than meets the eye.

  He seems pensive as he takes in my words. I'm actively praying to that imaginary God I'd been invoking for him to believe me.

  "Kill my husband, and then I'll marry you. Like it was meant to be. I'll be yours."

  "Mine..." He tastes the words on his tongue, his lips curling into a wolfish smile. "I like the sound of that. Very well." Yes. One small victory.

  He turns his back to leave, and my eyes widen. Wait, why is he leaving? I thought we were on the same page now.

  "Wait. Are you going to leave me like this?"

  "Why would I not leave you like this? I have to say, you've been convincing so far, but I've learned my lesson with you." He opens the door and leaves, locking it behind him.

  Fuck this shit, I mutter to myself.

  My efforts were in vain. I'm tempted to spit on the floor, just to cleanse my mouth of him, but I know he must be watching. So I put on my best behavior. I really have to think fast. I can't do anything from here, and Adrian is in danger.

  What could I possibly do now? My eyes frantically search around the room for any idea that might be helpful. But none comes.

  Desperation grips me like a fine glove, so I do the only remaining thing.

  I bite my tongue.

  Hard.

  Blood floods my mouth and pours down my lips.

  Good.

  The first step is done. Then I push myself backward again, making my body shiver uncontrollably, hoping to imitate a seizure.

  Sure enough, he is back through the door. He was watching.

  He cradles my head in his hands and pushes my mouth open, taking hold of my tongue. I continue to make my limbs spasm. He's trying to make sure I'm not swallowing my tongue. My eyes roll back into my head, and I pretend to be out.

  He starts barking some commands in Spanish, and then he starts untying me.

  Good... good.

  I moan in pain, half pretend, half-real since my tongue really hurts.

  "Are you ok?" He asks me after I'm free of my restraints. I manage a nod before I make myself faint.

  "Shit. Un medico!" He yells, and I hear more movement. He takes me into his arms and leaves the cellar with me, taking me who knows where.

  I surreptitiously open one eye, and I see that he's rushing me to one of the more furnished rooms with a bed.

  He carefully places me on the bed, and I do my best to seem out of it.

  "Un medico, pendejo! Ya te lo he
dicho. Que estás haciendo?" He yells out some more commands.

  "Perdon, patron." Some people apologize, and there's more shuffling.

  I'm lying on the bed with my eyes closed, and Carlos is still caressing my forehead.

  His movements are... tender. I almost scoff at myself for thinking that.

  It's not much later that a doctor finally arrives. After having a chat with Carlos, the doctor examines me, shining light into my eyes and looking at my mouth.

  "Tuvo una convulsión. Dejala descansar y la voy a examinar otra vez mañana. Le voy a dar un analgesico por ahora." The doctor confirms my charade.

  "Doctor, esta seguro que no es nada grave?" Carlos asks, making sure there's nothing wrong with me.

  "Si, claro. Quiero hacerla un prueba de sangre." The doctor continues, asking to draw some blood from me.

  "Dale. Tengo algo que solver, pero mandame los resultados cuando los tienes." Before leaving, Carlos drops by the bed and fastens each hand to the bed frame, effectively limiting my movements. At least my feet are free now.

  I am left alone with the doctor, and I keep my eyes closed, waiting.

  "You can stop pretending." The doctor says in accented English. I open my eyes and stare at him. My mouth is sore, and I can still feel the taste of the blood.

  The doctor is a man in his forties, dressed in a regular black shirt and jeans. Seeing that he caught me in my ruse and did not expose me, I don't know what to expect from him.

  He looks me over before heading to the door and turning the lock so that no one can enter. I frown. He just needs to take some blood, right?

  "Everyone was wondering what piece of ass Carlos brought over." He eyes my restrained wrists and smirks, his hands going to his jeans and unbuckling his belt.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  "Carlos won't like that," I say, my words distorted by my injured tongue.

  "He doesn't have to know."

  His pants undone, he advances towards the bed and starts working on my jeans. Fuck!

  I don't allow him to do much else as I flex my legs and push. He loses his balance for a moment but jumps back on me. I am prepared for him as I wrap my legs around his neck, applying as much pressure as possible.

  "Bitch!" He spits out, his face already going red.

  I don't know how long I can hold him like this, so I bend my wrists and hold onto the bed frame with my hands, using it as an anchor.

  Then I focus all my strength on my lower body, and I bring his head towards me, banging it against the board. His hands are trying to reach me, and it's getting harder and harder to keep him in place. I breathe in deeply and bang his head once more, this time taking advantage of the momentum to toss him back and off the bed.

  His head is bleeding pretty badly, and he's looking at me with murder in his eyes.

  My fists curl around the bed frame once more, and at one tug, I realize it's wiggling. I frantically start wiggling more and more, hoping to destabilize it enough to pull it from the bed.

  The doctor is slowly recovering, rising to his feet. The hit to the head must have been relatively good since he's swaying a little.

  "Fucking puta," He yells before jumping on me once again. Luckily, it's at this moment that the bed frame comes free from its hinges, and I manage to fling it at him, the panel hitting him straight in the throat. He releases a few choked sounds before crumpling to the ground, clutching at his Adam's apple.

  I sigh in relief and take a moment to compose myself. Realizing that Carlos could turn up at any moment, I get up from the bed, bed frame still attached to my hands.

  I go directly to the doctor's medical kit and look for a scalpel. I find one, but now cutting the rope holding my wrists prisoner to the board is still hard.

  I grasp the scalpel in one hand and try to rotate it so that the sharp side can graze the rope. I do the movement a few times before I notice a cut starting to form. I continue my efforts on that specific area until my wrist snaps free. I do the same with the other wrist and then throw the frame on the bed.

  I'm about to leave, but I give the doctor another kick in the balls just for good measure. He's so far gone he can't even voice his pain.

  Now, that felt good.

  I open the door, and I exit the room, not knowing exactly where I'm going. I hear a few people at some point and hide behind a wall, waiting for them to pass.

  The more I walk, the more lost I am.

  Until I reach an elevator.

  Once inside, I notice I'm on the fourth floor. I quickly press zero to get to the ground floor, hoping there won't be too many people getting in my way.

  When the elevator doors open on the ground floor, I am greeted by an older man in a sleek, black, two-piece suit. I slowly drag my eyes from his feet to the gun he's aiming at me, and then suddenly to his face.

  "Jimenez," I say, the name slipping from my lips, and eliciting a wince of pain.

  "And look who's here." He whistles, brandishing the gun around. I immediately put my hands up, hoping he'll see I'm unarmed.

  His face is thoughtful for a while, as he says. "You weren't included in my plan. I guess I'll have to make it work." He motions me aside, and he steps into the elevator next to me. He presses 3, and the elevator takes us to the third floor.

  Jimenez forces me to walk in front of him and tell me to head to the corridor's end.

  "Father!" My head snaps to the side, and I see Carlos heading towards us, his eyes raging with fury.

  "I gather this is your doing?" Jimenez asks in a bored fashion.

  "She's mine," Carlos replies, his jaw locked tight.

  "No, she's not. And you were about to ruin my plans." Jimenez pushes me as a sign to keep walking, but Carlos isn't done.

  "She was supposed to be mine." He emphasizes, and Jimenez laughs.

  "She was never supposed to be yours. The deal was met, accordingly. Martin was a shrewd bastard." Carlos's eyes widen, and I can see that's the moment he snaps. He charges at Jimenez full force.

  I take a step back, hoping to avoid getting in between them, but a few guards materialize out of nowhere and tackle Carlos to the ground.

  They immobilize his hands and drag him in front of Jimenez, who is looking at him with disgust in his eyes.

  "I never should have taken you on. You're a weakling, just like your whore of a mother was." He spits in Carlos's face, and he starts struggling against the hold of the guards. "But I did keep you because I needed an heir. Now, I need you no more."

  Jimenez lifts his arm and aims the gun at Carlos's chest. The shot echoes throughout the hallway. Carlos's body goes limp, blood leaking from his wound.

  "Dump him in the river," Jimenez orders the guards, and they start hauling Carlos away.

  Jimenez slowly turns towards me.

  "Now, let the show begin."

  And I start walking once more.

  CHAPTER XLV

  It's the middle of the night when we manage to hijack one of the trucks. After disposing of the people inside and stealing their clothes, we are ready to go.

  Marcel takes over at the wheel, while Vlad and I go in the back with some of his men. It's not precisely comfortable fitting everyone among the craters.

  "Now, let's see what's so precious about these." Vlad takes a metal bar and forces the top of one of the craters off.

  "So?" I ask, moving slightly closer to get a look inside.

  "As I suspected." He muses and picks up a rifle from the crater. Inside, more weapons are stashed, one on top of the other. "Military-grade too."

  "That's a lot of weapons," I say, alarm bells ringing in my head.

  "It is. But then again, a war is coming."

  "And you're sure this is just for that war?" Vlad shakes his head.

  "No... far too many for an underground war. For an all-out war, though? Not enough."

  I frown.

  "What do you mean an all-out war?"

  "Come on, Hastings. You of all people should know. There is political ins
tability. The alt-right movement is gaining supporters. There have already been so many small gatherings and protests all over the country. But now they are slowly, very slowly, becoming more organized. It only takes one spark to light a torch."

  "You're talking about civil unrest... instigating anarchy. Why would Jimenez want that?"

  "Because when there are no rules, those who've never answered to anyone have the most to gain."

  "So, you're saying that he could profit from anarchy."

  "It’s a two-way street. Jimenez will financially profit from the initial sales, and then reap the benefits from the social unrest."

  When he puts it like that, it does make sense. If what Vlad's saying ever comes to pass, it will be a bloodbath. Both figuratively and literally, and it could have wider political implications.

  "Shit. We can't take any chances." I say, and Vlad grimly nods.

  "It will not get to that." He says before amending. "Hopefully."

  Marcel announces that we have arrived at the gates through one of the intercoms. They open, letting us pass through, and soon we are in front of the building.

  Someone opens the doors, and we remain in character, starting to carry the craters out. Vlad's people are exiting as well and mingling with Jimenez's guards.

  "Let's go to the convened room," Vlad says, and Marcel and I follow. While Vlad had been able to hack into the CCTV feed from the street and from around the compound, he could not get inside the actual building. He'd told us that he could connect to the network and get access to the rest of the cameras once inside. But he needed the proximity.

  We'd studied the blueprints of the building and had memorized all of the entrances and exits and the rooms and their capacities.

  Once inside a room on the ground floor, Vlad quickly takes out his tablet and starts connecting to the system. It takes a while, but he is successful. He retrieves footage from the hallway and multiple rooms within the building.

  We see staff and guards moving about freely, with most rooms either empty or filled with craters.

  Vlad shifts from one feed to another.

  "There." He says and pulls the feed to cover the whole screen.