Morally Blasphemous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 2)

by Veronica Lancet

  I make myself seem disinterested. I need to gauge her feelings on the marriage, and maybe whether she remembers...

  "You're agreeable to the match?" I ask and she gives a brisk nod.

  "Yes." She says, but then a frown creases her forehead. "But first, I have to tell you something. You can decide if you still want to marry me after." I mask my features again, and wait for whatever she has to say, hoping it's not what I think it is...

  "I'm not..." She starts, but shakes her head. "I'm not innocent." She's looks at me hesitantly, expecting me to judge her for it. How could I? When the things I've done are so monstrous... so heinous that if she knew, she wouldn't be looking at me like that, with those big luminous eyes of hers.

  "I don't care about that." I force the words out of my lips.

  "That's not all. I have a daughter..." She continues, and I pause, remembering what Enzo had told me. The priest had molested her daughter. A red haze covers my eyes, and I have to breathe deeply to keep myself calm.

  "Enzo mentioned that." I simply say.

  "I won't be separated from her." I'd never expect her to leave her daughter behind. I may be a monster... but I'm not that evil.

  But then... I have to ask. "How old is she? Your daughter?"

  "She's nine and a half. She's very well behaved, she won't bother you." She explains, and my hand clutches at the armrest. She's nine... so grown up. I turn my head, so she doesn't see the emotion in my eyes. Catalina has a daughter. A nine-year-old daughter. Is that why she disappeared?

  "What's her name?" I ask, even though it's killing me inside.

  "Claudia." Claudia... I try her name in my head.

  "Good. You and Claudia will have nothing to worry about." I assure her. Once they have my name, I will make sure no one can harm them.

  "It's not... a problem?" Did she really think I'd care about that?

  "No. I have a younger sister at home. They aren't that far off in age and could get along." She seems relieved at my words. But I need to take advantage of this to let her know the terms of the marriage. "However," I start, "I also have some ground rules. That's why I asked Enzo to let me talk to you beforehand." I'd also wanted to see her reaction. But now? How can I in good faith take advantage of her... when there's so much wrong with me?

  How I loathe my past, and the baggage that makes me so bad for her. And yet, I could never find it in myself to refuse her. Not her... never her.

  "This will be a marriage in name only. I will give you my name, and I will provide for you and Claudia. You will not want for anything. You will be given your own room in the house. How you spend your time is up to you. I will only impose on you if there is an event we are invited to, or if we are hosting one."

  "That is fine with me." She seems stunned at my list of requirements, but she immediately agrees with all of them.

  "And one last thing. Don't touch me." I need to add this. For my peace of mind. And yet... if only I could bear someone's touch... that someone would be her.

  "What do you mean?" She asks, scrunching up her nose in confusion.

  "Just that. I don't like to be touched. Even something small, like a brush of a hand. Don't." I know my voice is brusque, but maybe if I establish a cool relationship from the start, then we both won't suffer the what ifs. I'll be tortured enough knowing she is in my home, within my reach, and I won't be able to touch her. It's better to keep boundaries.

  She nods, almost absentmindedly.

  "It's better to lay out our expectations from the beginning. That way, there will be no disappointment." I tell her. She needs to know this will never be more than a business arrangement. But more importantly, I need to keep that in mind. Just then, I realize there is one more thing that needs to be addressed. "That does not mean that you can see other men." No one will touch her. She will be mine... even though she won't.

  "What about you then?" She narrows her eyes at me.

  "Me?" I'm almost tempted to laugh. Did she not hear anything I said so far?

  "It will be a marriage in name only, as you said, but I am not allowed to be with anyone else. Then what about you?" She elaborates, and I do laugh. It's just ludicrous. Ah... if she only knew that I've not touched another woman since the first time I saw her, years ago... she'd probably think me deranged.

  "You don't have to worry about that, Catalina." I focus on her as I say the words. "My affliction, so to say, extends to everyone. I'll be true to my vows; of that you can rest assured." I take a big gulp of air, the proximity to her already playing with my head. "If I could..." I trail off. She doesn't need to know.

  "If we're both in agreement?" I don't think I can be around her for much longer. My control is already too strained.

  Enzo joins us shortly and we decide to register our marriage by the end of the week. I'm very curt in my replies, and once I realize I'm no longer needed, I bail.

  It's only on the drive back home that it occurs to me Vlad had to have known. Yes, what I wanted most will be mine... and not. I give a dry laugh at the thought.... and I remember the first time I ever saw Catalina. She'd mesmerized me back then, just as she did now. And I'm marrying her. In another life, maybe I would have thought myself lucky. In this one... it's one more price I have to pay for my sins.

  BACK AT THE LASTRA mansion, I try to avoid bumping into anyone as I head directly to my room. I close the door and lock it. Quickly, I take off my jacket and my shirt so I'm naked from the waist up.

  I falter for a second before I collapse to my knees. Head hung low, I place my hands on my thighs as I take a moment to myself. The memories are too much. They're threatening to drown me. And no matter how much I try to gasp for air, I can't. My hand clutches at the material of my pants, as I grit my teeth in frustration.

  Why?

  Why did Catalina have to return in my life?

  Why?

  Kneeling in front of my makeshift altar, I grab the strap from the table, and I wrap one end around my knuckles. Then, using all my force, I whip it back until it makes contact with my skin, breaking it. I wince in pain... but I deserve it.

  I'm a sinner.

  Once. Twice. Thrice.

  The pain is helping dull my senses.

  Catalina... my Catalina.

  I'll never deserve her.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  I can feel the blood trickling down my back.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  Whip.

  My breath is ragged as the pain threatens to make me lose consciousness. Just as I am about to reach that pinnacle, I stop.

  I have to marry her.

  You'd think I would rejoice at the thought.

  But I can't.

  I'll only taint her. Defile her with my corruption. Damn her soul with my depravity.

  She's my one weakness. A beacon of true innocence... My Beatrice.

  I stagger to my feet, dropping the whip to the floor. With uneven movements, I make it to the shower. Taking the rest of my clothes off, I prop myself under the jet of water and let it wash the blood away. Everything is red.

  Blood...

  Like that night.

  I lose my balance, falling on the shower floor. The water is still running, coursing over my head and mingling with my tears.

  I grab onto my knees and I start rocking.

  Sinner.

  I'm a sinner.

  Lord, what have I done?

  Chapter Ten

  AGE TEN,

  "HURRY, BOY!" FATHER SCOWLS at me as I try to keep up with his big strides. It's been a month since he's started taking me with him to his meetings with the Pakhan. The first time he took me there was also my first time witnessing him interact with someone outside our household. The Pakhan is very much like father. He has the same coldness in his eyes. He also has children, but so far I've only met Misha. He's older than me, but I can't say I like him. He's a bully. He likes to pick on me when there's no one else around. He thinks his words impact me, but a
fter living with father for so long, I think nothing can scare me. I rarely react to his taunts, and I think that annoys him.

  We reach a door and father gives me a shove inside. "I told you to hurry, boy. I don't have all day." I look him in the eyes without blinking and I nod. One thing that I've learned when dealing with father is that he will treat me even worse if I show any sign of weakness or fear. He likes it when I look him straight in his eyes. One might even say he is proud when I stand up to him. Inside, father is greeted by the Pakhan and they hug, kissing each other on both cheeks.

  "Giovanni," The Pakhan says and motions towards some stairs. "I already have them ready for you." A smile spreads onto his face at this, and my father chuckles.

  "It's time to show these boys how it's done, wouldn't you say?" He half-turns towards me and I have the sudden urge to take a step back. Instead, I just steel myself and try to look impervious to anything they have to say or do to me.

  "I have to say, I can't wait to see what your boy is made of."

  "Vlad is here today too?" Father asks. I'd heard about Vlad before. He is another one of the Pakhan's children, a couple years younger than me.

  "Yes..." The Pakhan grimaces. "I need to discipline him. He killed another one of my guards. Again." He shakes his head and starts walking towards the basement.

  I have to wonder what happened to Vlad. Is his father forcing him to be bad as well? Maybe we could be friends.

  We go down the stairs until we reach a basement. There are a few doors, and the Pakhan leads us to the furthest door on the right. He opens it, and we follow him inside.

  The room is completely empty but for a table on the side. There is something on the table, but I can't quite make it out since the lighting is extremely poor.

  A boy is standing next to the table, his gaze fixated on whatever is on top of it.

  "Vlad!" The Pakhan's sharp tone seems to shake him out of his reverie, and he slowly turns his head towards us. He walks casually, with measured steps, until he is in front of the Pakhan.

  "Otets." He greets his father with a tilt of his head.

  He is slightly shorter than me, with dark hair and black eyes. So black, in fact, they look soulless—empty. His complexion coupled with his features make him seem like a doll. A lifeless doll that still moves. I don't know why, but just one look at him and a shiver goes down my spine. Unlike father and the Pakhan, his eyes don't have that malicious coldness. No, they are just bleak.

  The Pakhan seems satisfied with that gesture of subservience and nods to one of the men outside the door. Soon, a man is being brought inside the room by two guards. He is thrashing around, and the guards secure him to a chair. One look at the adults, and I can see they are relishing this. I have an inkling of what is about to happen.

  "Giovanni, this one's all yours. For now." The Pakhan mentions and a smile spreads on father's face. He goes to the table and picks up something... a knife, I think.

  "Felix, you should have known this was going to happen when you spilled our secrets." Father takes a few steps until he is in front of Felix. He holds the knife up so the blade reflects the light, before moving it down Felix's cheek in a caressing motion.

  "Let's see what you have to say in your defense." He lowers the gag from Felix's mouth and he immediately starts saying something.

  "It wasn't...." Father takes advantage of this to grab his tongue, and in one swift movement he slices it. Looking with disgust at the piece of flesh in his hand, he flings it back, and it falls to my feet.

  "I think you spoke enough." Father says, laughing at his own joke. The Pakhan joins as well, so do the guards sitting next to the door. Vlad's gaze is focused on the blood dripping from the man's mouth.

  "There's no such thing as a pardon here." Father looks at me as he says this. I raise my head higher and try not to show I'm affected by what's happening.

  I keep myself calm and controlled as I watch father maim the man, chuckling every once in a while at a morbid joke.

  "That's it." Father throws the knife on the ground and picks up a white cloth to wipe his hands off blood.

  The prisoner is writhing on the floor, a few fingers strewn around him, his eye hanging out of his socket. He's still alive, but barely.

  Father winks at the Pakhan and settles back, switching the roles.

  The Pakhan slowly assesses the situation before picking up a drill from the table.

  "Watch and learn, boy." Father says.

  I bring my focus back to the Pakhan.

  "Some areas on the body bring more pain than others. This isn't just torture. It's a lesson in what happens if you betray us."

  With one hand, he grasps Felix's foot and lifts it up.

  "See here, the arch of the foot is a very sensitive area." He starts the drill and locating a middle point in the man's arch, he pushes the drill bit into it. Felix chokes on the pain, making a strangled sound as the drill advances, until the head disappears inside the foot. The pain must be unbearable, because at some point he passes out.

  "Fuck!" The Pakhan curses as he realizes that.

  "Finish him off and let's eat." Father complains, clearly not impressed with how things turned out. The Pakhan shakes his head in disappointment, and taking a small axe, he severs the head from the body.

  "Let's eat!"

  Lunch is even worse than watching someone being tortured, if that's possible. Vlad is as quiet as he'd been before, sometimes fixating on something with his eyes. Father and the Pakhan are boisterous and they just won't shut up. You'd think that at least during a meal they'd shut about their depraved acts, but it's just another opportunity for them to compete for the title of the most immoral in the room. Otherwise, I can't explain why they'd talk about the men they've killed, the whores they've fucked and the money they've made... all illegal, of course. The details are something I have no wish to hear, so I do my best to block everything out and focus on my food. Too bad even my appetite's gone.

  After we're done, I'm surprised that we head back to the basement. Even more surprised when I see that there's a new prisoner inside instead of the dead one. This one is pretty much alive and terrified.

  The Pakhan explains that the ball is in our court now, specifically mine, since Vlad probably wouldn't bat an eye at killing the man—at least from what I'd heard.

  Father lowers his head to whisper in my ear.

  "Don't disappoint me, or you'll regret it."

  With a slightly aggressive pat on my back, both father and Pakhan exit the room, leaving me with Vlad, my only audience. I look at the table and then at the prisoner, trying to make my body move and do whatever father wants me to do. But I can't.

  I pick up a knife and stare at it for a second, willing myself to do this, knowing what will happen if I don't. Vlad takes a step forward and tilts his head, studying me.

  "You're not going to do it, are you?" His voice is just as empty as his eyes. There's not a trace of emotion in it.

  He doesn't wait for me to answer, swiping the blade from my hand and casually walking towards the prisoner.

  Whereas before the prisoner had looked terrified, mostly because father and the Pakhan had been inside too, now he looks smug, probably not intimidated by the sight of two kids with a knife.

  But not a second later, blood spurts out from the man's cheek. Vlad is wielding the knife as if he's had years of training. His hand moves and he makes a few more incisions in the man's cheek in the form of a square, effectively cutting a sizeable chunk of skin and revealing both the man's mandible and his maxilla. The rag that had been stuffed inside his mouth to keep him from crying out is also visible now.

  Vlad's features are set in consternation as he regards his work. He has the piece of flesh in his hand and he brings it closer to his nose, inhaling the scent. That's just... wrong.

  His smile widens suddenly and removing the rag from the man's mouth, he stuffs the flesh in instead.

  "Eat." He commands, but the prisoner just looks at him with wide ey
es, wildly shaking his head. Vlad's blade trails down the prisoner's torso, stopping at his stomach. The prisoner stills. Vlad goes even lower, and the threat to his crotch makes him grind his teeth against the flesh. The chewing is reluctant at first, but Vlad keeps encouraging him with a nip here, a nip there.

  Vlad looks entranced as he stares at the man's jaw work its way around the piece of flesh.

  "Haven't you ever wondered..." Vlad starts, his eyes glossy with excitement—the most I'd ever seen from him, "how chewing looks from the outside? We always do it... so naturally. And yet, so many forces are at work."

  "Stop!" Vlad commands and the prisoner stops chewing. Vlad looks pensive for a moment, before taking the rag once more and stuffing it inside the mouth of the prisoner.

  "What...?" I blurt out, my first words since we've been here. Vlad's knife is already trailing around the man's throat. He seems extremely focused on the position of the incisions. He tries to cut, but the prisoner moves, so withdraws his knife, shaking his head.

  "You," he points at me, "hold him!"

  I hesitate for a moment, but end up walking across the room and planting my hands on the man's shoulders, trying to keep him in place.

  A small smile tugs at Vlad's lips, but it's immediately gone. He's once again focused on his incisions, cutting from the man's Adam's apple downward. This time, his cut is the shape of a rectangle.

  He removes the skin, but scowls as he notices there's still more muscle tissue in the way. He stares at it for a second.

  "What are you trying to do?" I have to ask.

  "Want to see how he swallows." He murmurs, bringing his bloody hand to his chin. He taps his foot impatiently and I feel the man flinch. I tighten my grip.

  Vlad's eyes light up. He takes the rag out and gives him again a piece of flesh to chew on.

  "Eat!"

  The prisoner does as he's told, slowly munching on the piece of skin. Just as he's about to swallow, Vlad puts his hand up. "Stop!"

  With a sudden swipe of the knife, he tears a hole in the man's throat. "Now!" He commands.

  I don't know what's happening, except there's blood coursing from the man's throat. He squirms a few more times before he becomes limp under my hold.