Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4)

by Veronica Lancet

  With a quick snap of a button, I have her pants opened, my hand pushing her panties to the side to find her soaking wet.

  "You're fire, hell girl," I look her in the eye, my fingers already caressing her pussy before settling on her clit. "Why don't you say a prayer so I can take you to heaven?" I nuzzle my face in the crook of her neck, her breathing harsh as she grinds herself on my fingers. "Can you do that?" I ask, and she gasps when I enter her, using her juices to ease my way in.

  "Our father, who art in heaven," she starts, pausing as I thrust into her, burying two finger to hilt, "hallowed be..." she moans when I use my thumb to flick her clit, "thy name," she clears her throat, her walls contracting around me. She's so fucking tight, her pussy greedily grasping on to my fingers as I stroke her deep. "Thy kingdom come..." she trails off on a long whimper as I curl my digits inside of her, finding her G spot.

  "Please make me come," she breathes hard, abandoning the prayer and lowering herself on my hand as she seeks her release.

  For a moment I want to keep teasing her, enjoying her little mewling and the way she's putty in my arms. But one look in her eyes and I cannot help myself as I focus my attention on her clit until she's screaming my name.

  "I didn't realize what a jealous little thing you were." I comment as she peers at me through her lashes. She's laying on my chest, spent and purring in satisfaction as I move my hand up and down her arms in a light caress.

  She gives me a sheepish smile.

  "I take my possessions seriously," she adds, yawning slightly.

  "Is that what I am for you?" I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

  "Mmm," she burrows her face in my chest, "you're mine," she says, tracing her name on my skin with her fingers.

  I've never belonged to anyone before, and the prospect of being hers fills me with an unprecedented warmth.

  "I..." I start, but I'm interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Quickly helping her dress, I right my own clothes as I open the door.

  "The entertainment is about to begin," an employee informs me, and I give him a nod.

  "Ready? I turn towards Sisi, and she comes to my side, lacing her fingers through mine.

  "Let's do this," she whispers, kissing my cheek.

  The employee scans his finger on a steel door in the back of the club, motioning us to follow him. We're lead down a dark corridor until we reach a set of stairs. As we start descending towards the basement, noises start attacking my ears. The music is blasting but it's almost drowned out by collective voices yelling, cheering and cursing out. For a moment, I am confused, since this is merely supposed to be an auction.

  But as we step on to the platform, the entire basement spreading in front of us, I realize why Enzo had said their entertainment is varied.

  The basement had been turned into a fighting arena. A big stage stretches in the middle of the room, with people surrounding it as they cheer on, some swinging their auction paddles around while yelling exorbitant amounts.

  As the employee shows us to a corner, he gives me an auction paddle with the number 64 on it. He doesn't even glance at Sisi as he leaves, and I'm once more reminded that in these places women are little more than cattle.

  She doesn't seem to notice the affront, her eyes glued to the stage as one man climbs up, a microphone in his hand.

  "Is everyone ready for tonight?" he calls out, people yelling yes at him. Introducing himself as Mauro, he goes on to give a brief introduction of what's up for tonight.

  I half-listen to him, my eyes focused on my surroundings as I take in everyone, looking for familiar faces. Off the bat I see people I'd been following for years, all elbows deep in human trafficking.

  Now, who could be Miles' broker...

  I somehow don't doubt that Mr. Petrovic must have worked for him at some point, or any other influential person, since someone must have sent those people to look for him. I'd looked into their backgrounds trying to tie them to a someone in Mr. Petrovic's inner circle, but I hadn't gotten any hits on that. Too bad Mr. Petrovic ended up dead not long after he'd divulged Miles' name, since I have no doubt he had more information than he'd imparted.

  "Are they..." Sisi tugs my hand as she nods towards the stage. Two men, looking more like killing machines than anything, walk on the stage.

  "On the right we have Seth, hailing straight from the pyramids. With a total of fifty kills under his belt, he is yet undefeated in the ring. He's been without a master for the past two months, so place your bets gentlemen. We're going to have an interesting show."

  The host introduces one of the men, a hulking beast of at least seven feet and a half. His entire body is filled with scars, one of his eyes replaces with a glass one.

  "Damn, that must be tough," I mutter.

  "Why?" Sisi leans into me.

  "That's a hell of a disadvantage for a fighter to have. You need your eyes for coordination, but also for peripheral view. If he's managed so many wins with only one eye..." I whistle in admiration.

  "Next up is Drew, our resident champion. Mr. Meester has allowed us to borrow him for yet another entertaining evening. Let's give a round of applause to Mr. Meester," the host motions to one of the men at the balconies who waves smugly at the crowd.

  "Who is he?" Sisi asks.

  "A crime lord, more or less." I say with half a smile.

  I had expected to see people I know here, since most of the criminal world has no scruples, certainly not when it comes to the easiest and cheapest form of exploitation—human labor and sexuality. But I certainly had not expected to see Petro Meester here.

  And now it's imperative he doesn't notice me.

  "Let's hope we don't get his attention." I tell Sisi, giving her a quick rundown of my history with the man.

  A Ukrainian immigrant, he'd been under my father's wing for a long time before branching out and building his own empire. All had been fine and dandy, until Misha had killed father, and then I'd killed Misha. Petro had approached me with a potential alliance with his daughter, which I'd promptly refused. He'd taken it personally, and we've butted heads on more than one occasion since then, but mainly in business. I don't know why he'd been so offended by my refusal, but every time I was about to close a deal, he'd intervene to try to stop it.

  "His pettiness knows no bounds." I add drily.

  I'd never gone out of my way to look into him, but last I knew, he was in the meth trade. Interesting that he's leveled up, and it makes me wonder if he has any connection with Jimenez and the Gallaghers.

  "Drew is Mr. Meester's favorite, and he has a total of two hundred fifty-four kills under his belt. Quite a discrepancy, no?" the host asks the public, and everyone is quick to shout their predictions. That Drew will finish Seth off.

  "What's the point of all this?" Sisi asks, looking intrigued.

  "He's showing off, no doubt," I explain. Knowing Petro's hubris, that's exactly why he would lend his champion to one of these fights. "Other than that, I guess there must be a bidding on the winner, should Seth win instead of Drew."

  "What do you think? Who will win?"

  I look closely to the two men. Their physiques are closely matched, but logically speaking, Drew has more experience and should be the favored one in this battle.

  "Seth," I say, narrowing my eyes at the stage.

  "What? Really? Why? He has fifty kills versus two hundred and fifty-four kills. How can he stand a chance?"

  "We'll see," I add, curious about the outcome too.

  But while the two fighters look evenly matched in physical strength, Seth has something Drew does not — the desire to live. Drew's many victories must have stroked his ego, because I can see the smugness in his gaze as he looks down on Seth.

  A lengthy monologue by the host and the gong is hit, the fight officially starting.

  Drew is the first one to advance, immediately taking the offensive. Seth, on the other hand, skirts around the stage, avoiding a direct confrontation. Instead, his goo
d eye is focused on Drew's movements, cataloguing every step and how those steps are done.

  Interesting.

  More dancing around each other, and Drew grows impatient, just like the crowd. And out of that impatience, the first mistake is borne. Drew jumps on Seth, throwing his entire weight forward, no doubt counting on tackling Seth to the ground. Instead, Seth stays put until Drew is but a millimeter away from him, after which he promptly moves away with an incredible speed for someone his size.

  He places his body diagonally, rooting his lower half on the ground while he twists his torso to the right. Holding one foot down, he uses the other to knee his adversary in the gut, the combined momentum of Drew's jump plus the strength behind Seth's kick magnifying the pain. Drew winces, the air knocked out of him, and he takes a second to stabilize himself.

  A second too much, because Seth finally unleashes his true potential, barreling into Drew with his fists. He concentrates on his head, landing blow after blow at his temples until Drew can barely stand still.

  One more punch, and Drew looks dazedly at the crowd before his knees buckle and he hits the floor.

  "Wow..." Sisi breathes, and I share the feeling.

  Impressive. Very Impressive.

  The entire room is silent as they are probably mourning the loss of their bets, and I sneak a glance at Mr. Meester who is looking at the stage as if he can't believe what just happened.

  As I predicted, the host blunders through a small speech, eventually putting Seth up for bidding.

  "Starting price is determined by Mr. Meester, since it is his loss," the host says, but Mr. Meester is already gone from his balcony, no doubt the disappointment too great for his fragile ego.

  My lips pull up in a smile as the host settles on a random amount, with multiple people already trying to up the previous bid.

  "Ten," I raise my paddle, unable to help myself.

  It's like everything stops as the host looks at me askance, rolling his eyes no doubt at my current attire.

  "I'm sorry sir, but we're talking millions here, not thousands," he says almost exasperated.

  "Ten million," I agree, shrugging.

  Sisi is looking at me as if I'd grown a second head, while the entire room seems to be awfully quiet at my pronouncement.

  "Right, so... ten million once, ten million twice..." not a soul challenges the amount, so the host is obligated to declare me the winning bid.

  "What are you doing with a fighter?" Sisi asks in shock, "a ten million dollar fighter?"

  "What could I do? Make him fight, of course," I give her a brilliant smile.

  Seeing his skills firsthand solidified it for me. He's the perfect candidate. Because at some point in the future, he will need to fight. Intriguing, though. Seth might just be the warrior drawn on my back manifested into reality.

  The one who will save the world from me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sometimes I look at Vlad, and I don't know who I am seeing. No matter how much I get to know him, there's just so much hidden, so much he's not saying. He's always giving me the facts. But never more than that. With him, it's always cold, logical facts.

  Like now.

  I watch stupefied as he bids ten million dollars on a man, and I can't figure out why he would do that.

  Once the auction is over, Mauro comes to speak with Vlad, telling him he'll be able to pick up his purchase after the recess, since they have to get Seth ready for his new owner. Vlad grunts in approval, his hand never leaving my waist as he finalizes the details.

  "What's the plan?" I ask when the host leaves, and Vlad gives me a weird look.

  "No plan. It was merely a spur of the moment decision," he quickly gives me one of his charming smiles but I can see what he's trying to do.

  "You're not fooling me," I narrow my eyes at him. I can see through the mask he's trying to put on, and I'm sure there must be an ulterior reason for it.

  "Sisi, Sisi," he tsks at me, stooping down so that our faces are on the same level, "sometimes your intuition amazes me," he says, the intensity in his eyes making me shiver. "You might be right, but then you might be wrong too," he jokes, his lips pulling up in a lopsided smile.

  So many masks, so many faces. When will I ever truly know him?

  I shake my head at him, my expression telling him that I'm on to him. But just as I look into his eyes for any sign of vulnerability, his features become grave, his hand catching me by the throat, his fingers massaging my pulse.

  "Sometimes," he leans forward, whispering in my ear, "ignorance is bliss, Sisi."

  "And knowledge is power." I reply, watching a myriad of emotions filter over his face, eventually settling on fake joviality. His smile widens as his lips brush over mine.

  "Knowledge is also damnation," he replies, his voice deep with an underlying hint of threat.

  "Aren't we already damned?" I ask, bringing my hand up and caressing his cheek.

  He doesn't reply, his eyes pinning me to the spot, his touch making me his prisoner. Even the boisterous sounds surrounding us fade away as we gaze at each other, so close yet so far away.

  And just as it started, everything is over. His hands off me, he settles me next to him, turning his attention to the stage and the continued entertainment.

  We'd been so in synch not too long ago, and that intimacy we'd just shared had made me think we'd become... more. A first for both of us, I'd really thought that in that moment he was irrevocably mine.

  I slip my hand into his, threading our fingers together, and for the first time the coldness of his skin seems to seep into mine. He's like a marble sculpture looming over mere mortals, his presence imposing and awe-inspiring.

  Looking at his profile, I have to wonder if this man can truly belong to one person. He's so raw, so barely contained, that sometimes I feel he might overwhelm me. He's full of wicked charm and sinister intentions—a deadly combination both to my body and my heart. But why is it that I'm so drawn to him? So taken by this inexplicable darkness that lies just beneath the surface, waiting to engulf me whole? Why do I crave him like an addict craves his next fix? Because I can barely go through the day when he's not with me.

  In such a short time I've become so dependent on his presence, so used to the warmth of his skin on mine, that I don't know what I'd do if he suddenly disappeared.

  I want him.

  For the first time in my life, I'll let myself be greedy. I want the bad and the good. I want everything.

  The noise coming from the stage brings me back to reality, and I shake myself from my musings.

  Five almost naked women take the stage just as the music changes from lively to seductive. For a second I'm confused, since the atmosphere looks identical to the one at the bar. Mauro, though, is quick to explain what's going to happen.

  All five girls are available for one round, and each will be bid on individually.

  "One round?" I ask, confused at the terminology, and Vlad grimaces.

  One after another, the girls are auctioned to someone in the crowd. When the fifth one's been called, all the men who won make their way to the stage, slapping the women around and tearing the clothes off their bodies.

  "What," I frown, but it's soon clear what one round meant.

  The men are quick to unzip their pants, and that's the last thing I see as Vlad suddenly twists me in front of him, blocking my view of the stage.

  "Don't watch," he whispers, holding me tightly.

  "Why? Isn't that the whole point of us being here?"

  "I don't want you watching naked men," he tips my chin up, ensuring I look into his eyes. "I want you to only see me," he smiles. "You're not the only one with the jealous streak," he jokes.

  Warmth unfurls inside my body at his pronouncement.

  "Is that so?" I let my hands trail up his muscular arms, feeling the tension bubbling under his skin.

  He catches my errant hands, bringing them to his mouth, his teeth nibbling at my fingers.

  The volume
of the music decreases, moans and shrieks resounding in the room.

  "I'm the only man you can look at," his tongue does wicked things to my fingers, and my breath hitches every time he sucks the tips into his mouth, "the only one you can touch..." he trails his lips over my wrist, right above the pulse point, "the only one you can fuck."

  Words fail me as I become lost in his seductive gaze. How is it that he can be so detached one moment, but so suave the next?

  "Will you... keep me?" I ask, my voice small. For the first time, I'm asking what I've wanted to know from the very beginning.

  One arm tightens around my waist as he lowers his mouth to my ear.

  "Keep you? You're mine, Sisi. You go where I go, in hell or beyond." I feel him smile against my skin. "Dead or alive," he says and chills spread across my skin, "even if I have to kill you myself."

  "As long as you never abandon me," I lean back so he can see the seriousness in my gaze, "I'm yours. Dead or alive." I must be insane to agree to such a thing, but for him I'd do just about anything.

  "I'm glad we're on the same page," he smirks, toying with a long strand of hair, "because I'd miss your lovely heartbeat."

  "You'd kill me if I left you?"

  He doesn't answer, his smile wide.

  Only when we hear Mauro's voice announcing the next event does Vlad let me turn around, keeping a possessive arm around me.

  As everyone stops to the bar at the other end of the room for refreshments, we're invited by one of the employee to follow him to get to Seth.

  I hold on to Vlad as we go down some dimly lit corridor before we stop in front of a row of cages.

  "Lord," I whisper when I see eyes glinting in the darkness of the room, all curious and full of pain. I'm momentarily struck by what I'm seeing, and Vlad tugs me forward, shaking his head at me.

  The employee opens one of the cages to reveal Seth, already dressed in a clean shirt and pants, his gaze empty and numb as he glances at us.

  "This is your controller." The man gives Vlad a tiny device, explaining that Seth has a chip implanted in his brain, and the controller zaps him into obedience.