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

by Veronica Lancet

  "Now it's not fun anymore," Bianca sighs, and the others seem to join her, all looking rather disappointed. Instead of arguing, they turn their backs to me, heading back to the basement. Even Marcello looks suddenly disinterested and doesn't even blink twice at Sisi and I being so close to each other.

  "What's happening?" I ask Sisi, a little confused about what just happened.

  "They were taunting you because you're so easily riled up," she confides, a sheepish smile on her face. "Especially when it comes to me."

  "Goddamn," I mutter, already tired of this.

  And they wonder why I don't like to socialize.

  Heading inside the basement, we go to the meeting room where a round table occupies the center of the room, with chairs strewn around in disarray. There are a couple of computers to the side and a big projector illuminating the other side of the room.

  "This hasn't changed much in the last ten years," I add, shooting a glance at Marcello. I'd been a fixture in his house due to our parents' friendship, and I'd been here more times than I could count.

  "At least you dusted it off before you called us here," I swipe my hand on the table, noting it's clean.

  "Vlad," Sisi pokes my arm, "stop antagonizing people," she mumbles, shaking her head.

  Shrugging, I just take a seat at the table, watching attentively as Sisi does so as well so I can pull her chair right next to mine.

  As the others take their seats as well, I turn to Bianca.

  "How come you're here? Isn't your contract expiring in a few months?" I raise an eyebrow.

  I'd gone through a lot of trouble to get her a job with some connections in Russia and I hope she's not slacking since that would reflect badly on me. And with my reputation already in tatters around the country, I don't need that abroad too.

  "We're here to help, you idiot," she rolls her eyes at me, her hand going to her belly, and stroking what I realize is a rather large bump.

  My eyes widen.

  Now that's something I would have never expected of Bianca.

  "She's four months pregnant," Adrian explains, "so she's taking it easy with the assignments. But when Marcello called to tell us your situation, she insisted on coming here," he adds drily.

  Adrian and I had never gotten along, mostly because he's always been jealous of my friendship with his wife. I don't know why he would be, though, since I've made it clear to him that Bianca's never been on my radar as a woman, or anything really except my partner in arms.

  But somehow he got it into his head that I was a threat, and he's never stopped being a pain in the ass about it.

  "Why, Hastings, I must say I am impressed," I jibe, "already," I glance at my watch, "thirty minutes and you haven't insulted me. We might become best friends yet."

  "As if," he snorts, "you have a better chance of becoming a canonized saint," he mutters under his breath.

  "Wouldn't be too hard," I shrug when I note Sisi's small smile. "I'd just make sure to become mummified after death. You'd do that for me, wouldn't you, hell girl?" I murmur softly, leaning into her and inhaling her fresh scent.

  She turns so that only her profile is visible.

  "Only if I get to join you," she answers saucily, "we'd be two mummies," her voice is breathy as fuck and damn if my cock doesn't jump in my pants at that sexy sound, "wrapped in each other and ready for the afterlife."

  "Fuck, Sisi," I groan.

  "Ew," Bianca's voice puts a damper on my growing erection. "I see now why you're with her," she says before she points at Sisi, "or why you're with him," she shakes her head, disgusted.

  "Can we drop the odd morbidities," Marcello says, massaging his temples with his fingers and looking completely done with us. Catalina, on the other hand, seems a bit more receptive to our relationship as she sends a comforting smile to Sisi.

  That alone puts her in my good books.

  Even Marcello, for all his sputter and protests, managed to surprise me by inviting Bianca and Adrian. It might not be much, but there's always strength in numbers, especially when they happen to be an assassin and a trained fighter.

  Just then, Enzo and his wife stride through the door too. My eyebrows shoot up as I realize Marcello's really gone big with this.

  "Nero should be here soon," is the first thing Enzo says as he takes a seat around the table.

  "You," Bianca spits out, launching herself at Allegra. Her eyes widen, and she barely evades Bianca's attack, Enzo quickly placing himself between the two of them and shielding his wife.

  "I guess no one told B about the new developments," I joke, but no one seems to be laughing.

  A short explanation from Enzo and Bianca finally retreats with a huff, plopping herself back on her chair where Adrian promptly tries to comfort her.

  "It's nice to meet everyone," Allegra says after a complete round of introductions. Her accent is thick—thicker than Enzo's—and probably the best way to tell it's not her sister, since Chiara had developed a flawless English accent from all her years of travel.

  Safe to say that Chiara hadn't been anyone's favorite, least of all Bianca's since she'd had an affair with her father while also trying to come on to her husband.

  While we wait for Nero to show up with the highlight of today's meeting, I quickly catch everyone up with what we'd found out at Sacre Coeur.

  "Sisi," Catalina gasps, horrified when she hears that Sisi had been the target of such a transplant. Marcello's fists are clenched as he undoubtedly blames himself again for what happened to her.

  "But that's not the most important thing," Sisi interjects, and I can tell she's trying to move the conversation from her, since she doesn't like to be seen as a victim. "There was something else that Mother Superior said," she gives me a worried look, but as I nod, she turns towards Marcello.

  "Nicolo was my biological father," she explains with a sigh.

  Marcello is trying his best to stay still, but I can tell how much this is affecting him, especially in light of his own conflict with Nicolo. He'd been so obsessed with Marcello's mother that he must have assaulted her at some point, resulting in Sisi's birth.

  "But the most unexpected twist," I add, "is that Nicolo fathered another," I pause and everyone looks expectantly. "Michele Guerra."

  "You're joking," Marcello is the first to interject, and I just shake my head.

  "I wish I were," I reply, telling him all about Michele's leukemia diagnosis and the fact that Sisi had been a match.

  "It makes sense why he would prefer Raf for the succession," Catalina notes and I nod.

  Michele was already hated for his attempted assault on Catalina, but as everyone hears about his current involvement with the clandestine transplants, it's safe to say he's now most reviled.

  "That bastard," Enzo curses out, vowing to kill Michele himself.

  "Children," I put my hands up, "we're getting ahead of ourselves. Right now the most important thing is to break down the organization, and then we can pick them apart one by one."

  "Good, because Michele is mine," Marcello grits his teeth.

  "Do you want to call dibs too?" I ask Sisi, since she has very good reasons to hold a grudge against him.

  "Not really," she shrugs, "he's such a shit human being that he'll end up dead one way or another. I'm not particularly keen on being the one who kills him."

  "I'll do it for you," I eagerly propose the alternative.

  "No," she puts her hand on top of mine. "Let him flounder. Once Miles' operation ends, he won't have any more resources. I want to watch him drown like a fish on dry land," she says, her eyes full of fire as she turns them towards me.

  I can't help myself as I grab her nape, bringing her into me for a quick kiss.

  "And there he goes again," Marcello mutters.

  "You know, Kuznetsov, for someone who proclaimed he'd never exchange bodily fluids with anyone, you're exchanging quite a bit," Adrian chuckles.

  "And there goes our truce, Hastings," I groan, still keeping Sisi next to me
. "But she's not just anyone," I grumble, almost offended he'd lump Sisi in the same category as all other ordinary people. "She's the only one who makes exchanging bodily fluids madly appealing," I speak as I look down at her red stained cheek. There's also some blue residue from the paint on my face, but I'm not about to point that out.

  Instead, I make to caress her face softly as I remove all traces of the paint. I wouldn't want her getting mad at me for getting her dirty, too.

  "Can we stop talking about exchanging bodily fluids," Marcello interferes in a loud voice, "especially since that is my sister. And I really don't want to imagine..." he trails off, a loud sigh escaping him.

  "I'll end up putting a bullet through his brain," Marcello mutters, with Catalina by his side trying to calm him.

  "What can I say, 'cello. I have that effect on people," I add smugly.

  At this point, getting people to want to kill me seems to be a skill.

  We spend some more time catching up with what everyone's been up to, and since Sisi is asking me nicely, I make a marked effort not to get on anyone's nerves—again. It's not as easy as it seems, because I have to bite my tongue from blurting out anything that might be misconstrued as offensive. After all, we might be all gathered together here, but I know most don't have any lost love for me.

  If anything, I'm just a necessary evil.

  My hand on hers, since I need to have her near to function, I just put on my most charming smile as I try to play along.

  A while later, the door bursts open and Nero barges in, his face devoid of any expression. Draped over his shoulder is who I expect to be Meester's daughter, her entire body tied in a potato sack. There are muffled noises coming from inside, but he doesn't seem to mind it.

  With a glance at the room, he gives a quick nod before he settles his prisoner on a chair, making quick work of removing the sack while preserving her bounds.

  "Salome Meester," he nods to her was he pulls the cloth from her head.

  Salome Meester isn't a bad looking woman, at least I guess so. My senses are skewed when it comes to that sort of thing because I only have one golden standard, and she's sitting next to me.

  Black hair and pale skin, Salome has dark blue eyes framed by dark lashes. Together, they give her an almost doll like appearance, and definitely inoffensive. You wouldn't think that someone looking that innocent would have gone through at least three husbands by now.

  But as she turns her eyes to Nero, her stare deadly, I can see that there is some fire under that innocuous appearance.

  "Remove?" he asks, pointing at her gag. When everyone agrees, he does so, lowering it down her face.

  "You fucking bastard. I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to strap you in my menagerie and have my wild animals feed on you!" She spits at him, thrusting her body forward as she continues to curse Nero out.

  "Or not," he belatedly nods, firmly placing the gag back in place.

  His hand lingers a little too long on her face, her eyes widening slightly.

  Interesting.

  "I guess we can finally call Meester?" Marcello asks, and I can see he cannot wait for us all to leave his house.

  Why, he shouldn't have been the host if he's going to be so grouchy about it.

  "I'll do the honors," I rise from my chair, slowly heading to where Nero and Salome are.

  "You..." she narrows her eyes at me and I can see a hint of recognition.

  "It's been what? Eight years?" I ask, amused.

  She'd been underage when Meester had to ask me to marry her, and when I'd refused, he'd promptly married her off to someone else. I'm not even sure she was legal when that happened.

  "Why am I here?"

  "I'm sure Nero must have told you why," I add and her eyes skitters to Nero.

  "Him?" she asks, "until a while ago I was pretty sure he was a mute," she smirks at him but he doesn't react at all. A bored expression on his face, he just stares at her. When she sees her taunt doesn't work, she huffs, turning to me.

  "Why am I here? You heard I'm back on the marriage mart?" she flutters her lashes suggestively.

  I already feel someone drilling a hole in my back, and I don't have to turn to know Sisi's probably one step away from lashing out.

  "Carry her to the torture room," I instruct Nero, not wanting to touch her and get in trouble with my wife.

  Nero does as told, placing the gag back in place and taking her out of the room.

  "I hope you don't plan to torture her yourself," Sisi says as she comes to my side.

  "Nope," I reply, "didn't even touch her," I continue, putting my hands in the air.

  "Good," she nods, satisfied. "I can do it."

  "You?" I ask, surprised.

  "Of course. This is primarily our business, so if you can't do it then it befalls to me," she states matter of factly, raising her hands and gathering her hair in a tight bun at her nape.

  "Right," I answer, once again in awe of her. "But we only need to roughen her up a little so that Meester will take us seriously."

  "No worries," she immediately replies, folding the cuffs of her shirt and following after Nero.

  "That's my sister?" Marcello asks almost in disbelief, his eyes on Sisi's retreating figure.

  "No. That's my wife," I say proudly, "and she's a force to be reckoned with," I clap him on the back, before I follow after her.

  We make quick work of the torture room, decorating it to show we're not playing, and installing a camera right in front of Salome.

  Sisi hadn't been kidding when she'd said she had it covered, as Salome is now sporting a busted lip and an already bruised eye.

  Still, the most astonishing thing was the fact that even in her beat up state, she was chatting with Sisi as if they were long-lost pals.

  "I'm not your father's biggest fan," Sisi mentions, "since he's tried to kill Vlad and me at least twice now. But since you're not on his side, I guess we can be friends," she smiles, "after he's dead."

  "You guys plan on killing him?" Salome raises her gaze around as she asks the question.

  Nero grunts, still by her side.

  In fact, he hasn't left, even while Sisi was rearranging her face.

  Allegra is at the end of the room with Enzo and Adrian while Marcello is arranging the camera in place. Catalina had taken Bianca upstairs to feed her since she'd gotten some pregnancy cravings.

  "Yes," I answer honestly. "He's as good as dead."

  "Damn," she mutters under her breath. "Can you make sure I'm his official heir before you kill him though? I really don't want to wake up and find that he's given all his money to some charity or something. Not that my father is very charitable, but he'd do it just to spite me," she sighs deeply.

  "Why would he do that?" Sisi asks.

  "We fucking hate each other. The only reason I haven't killed him myself is because I kept hoping he'd change his will," Salome says, disappointed.

  Sisi turns sharply towards me.

  "Will it work then? If he hates her?"

  "Oh, he hates me all right, but he still needs me for a male heir," Salome interjects. "That's the only thing I'm good for apparently," she rolls her eyes.

  "Good, that works then," I nod, going back to the camera to ensure everything is fine.

  I tell everyone to step aside, ready to record Salome begging her father to save her, but I'm a little surprised to see that Nero seems reluctant to leave her side.

  "Nero?" I ask, my voice sharp.

  His gaze meets mine and he nods, stepping aside.

  "Put your best act on, Salome. I might even forge his will for you if you're successful," I promise.

  Her eyes grow wide, her pupils sparkling with excitement.

  "Deal," she agrees.

  I start the countdown, and then I tell her to begin.

  The camera zooms in on Salome's face, her bloody lip and her purple eye as she's trembling, sniffling.

  "It's all your fucking fault, old man! Why couldn't you let me be?" she cries o
ut, cursing her father and calling him all types of names.

  Well, if this is her way of sounding convincing, then so be it.

  "Do you know what they threatened to do?" she continues to yell, her face red from the exertion. "A hysterectomy. Say bye, bye to your heirs, papi dear. I know I won't miss them," she smirks at the camera.

  I bring my hand to my forehead, unable to believe how that message is going to get Meester to cooperate.

  "I'm surprised the video worked," Sisi comments as she joins me on the deck of the boat.

  Everyone is completely geared up for whatever we'll find on the island, and while I would have liked for Sisi to stay behind, since it will be dangerous, I couldn't stop her from coming.

  I know she would have followed me anyway, because if there's one thing I've learned about her, it's that there's a stubbornness to her that infuses strength into any decision she takes. She never backs down, regardless of the dangers involved, and the attack in New Orleans had showed me that just as I'd go to any extent to protect her, so would she for me.

  She twines her fingers with mine, her head resting on my shoulder as we watch the boat leave the harbor.

  "Meester is just as mercenary as I'd pegged him," I tell her, sneaking a glance to where Meester is sitting on deck, restrained and currently being interrogated by Enzo.

  The negotiations with Meester had gone according to plan. Although Salome's message hadn't been a traditional one, it had honed in on Meester's interests.

  When I'd spoken to him it had taken a while to convince him that we actually have his daughter, but after seeing the recording, all traces of doubt had evaporated and he'd agreed to help us get to the island. He'd given away his trump card too, as he'd asked at least a dozen times to make sure his daughter—specifically her womb—would be safe.

  It had also confirmed, without a sliver of doubt, that Meester has been involved with Miles all along, including all those years ago when they'd roped Misha into their plans and attacked my house. For that alone, I'm reserving the right to send him to his grave after everything is over.

  "We're so close, Vlad," Sisi whispers.

  "Indeed," I reply stiffly.