Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

  Manolo comes around and snaps the lock open, lifting the top of the case to reveal a small gold ring.

  I immediately look back at him in confusion. That? Six million dollars for a ring? Call me skeptical, but I don't see how.

  "This here is the ring of Edward the Confessor." Professor Moore dons a pair of gloves before picking up the ring and holding it in the clear light.

  It's nothing special, really. A thick gold band with some hollow places I assume used to house precious stones. I almost snort. It doesn't even have the most valuable items, and it's priced at six million?

  "The buyer's in Malta and he requires the item by Wednesday noon," he looks me up and down again before continuing, "and I'm told you're the best person for the job."

  "He is." Manolo quickly assures them. "He's the very best. He'll make sure the ring gets to the buyer by the designated time."

  "Why is he willing to pay that much for a ring?" I ask. Maybe something escapes me, but six million for a gold band?

  Professor Moore smirks.

  "I gather you aren't familiar with the legend of the ring? It belonged to Edward the Confessor, and it was used for his coronation. See here," he points at the hollow space, "there used to be a sapphire here that is currently part of the British Imperial crown. Edward was canonized, and that's what started rumors that his ring can perform miracles. The ring disappeared in the sixteenth century and it hasn't been sighted since then. It's considered a religious relic, and it's coveted by many people around the globe."

  I listen attentively to his explanation and merely raise an eyebrow after his done.

  "If it's been lost for so long, how can we know it's the real deal?"

  "We don't. We did carbon date it and ran tests on it, and it fits the time period."

  "But you can't know for sure." I add, thinking it's weird for someone to drop six million on the possibility that this might be a fake.

  "No," he smiles, "but that's not important. The people who believe will believe no matter what." He brings the ring closer to look at it. "The reverse is also true. We can perform as many tests as possible and there will still be skeptics. It's the nature of the trade." He shrugs, placing the ring back in the briefcase.

  Seeing that the deal is already secure, and I just need to do my part, I ask no more questions. It's not my business if some random person is swimming in money and wants to splurge on a ring.

  We spend some more time negotiating everyone's cut. Eventually we settle on a third each, and I'm handed the briefcase.

  The flight is booked for early the next morning — Palermo to Malta. Somehow I don't see this job being too hard. I'll finish the delivery tomorrow, and I'll still have two days to spare until Wednesday. I may just spend some time in La Valette since they have some great libraries.

  While I enjoy artifacts, my true hobby lies in collecting old books. Another perk of the job is that I'm the first one to get an alert if there's a new first edition being sold anywhere in the world. It's also why I can't really begrudge our mysterious buyer for paying so much for a bauble. I've paid a pretty sum for a book too — a first edition Gutenberg Bible. Considering there were only a few ever printed, it was worth every penny.

  Putting the briefcase in the hotel's safe, I take off my clothes and head to the shower. When the steam greets my skin, I sigh in relief, finally allowing myself to relax a little.

  But even that is cut short by my phone ringing.

  With a curse, I stop the water and drape a towel around my waist. I reach the phone just in time to see it's my father calling. I roll my eyes, but answer, as any dutiful son would.

  "Enzo," my father starts, his voice a notch higher than usual. He's in a good mood. I've learned to listen to his cues, so I know exactly how to deal with him. He might think himself a strong and unyielding capo, but he's nothing else but a proud fool.

  "Father," I answer back, adjusting my tone accordingly so he doesn't catch the annoyance I'm feeling.

  "Splendid news! I just met with Benedicto Guerra. We decided to sign the marriage contract in two weeks," he blabbers on happily, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from saying something in return, "I've emptied your schedule so you're free to return when you're done with this job." He continues to sing praises to Gianna, emphasizing her beauty and her upbringing. "If everything goes according to plan, you should be married by the end of the month." I clench my fist, my lips twitching in disgust.

  "Perfect, father. I can't wait." I say through gritted teeth before hanging up.

  Closing my eyes, I count to ten, feeling the rage leave my body.

  I'd known it was going to happen, eventually. I just didn't realize it would be this fast.

  Gianna Guerra.

  I snort just remembering her. I'd met her once last year, when our parents had decided it was time to see if we suited. Benedicto, for some unfathomable reason, wanted his daughter's opinion. Maybe because his own second marriage was allegedly a love match, he'd decided to try the same for his daughter.

  I'd indulged my father and gone to the meeting, but I'd realized from the start it was a mistake. She'd taken one look at me and she'd fitted herself to my body, quite obscenely might I add, trying to find topics of conversation. When she'd gotten nothing out of me, she'd just prattled on about some mundane things–like her clothes, her jewelry and other material things. I may have only listened with half an ear, but somehow she'd gotten it into her mind that I was the perfect prospect for a husband. Just as I'd excused myself to leave, she'd leaned over to whisper in my ear.

  "I look forward to our wedding night." Her hand had crept lower over my crotch in what she probably perceived as a seductive gesture.

  I'd only been further disgusted.

  It was only after that I heard the rumors floating around in some restricted circles. Gianna Guerra had a penchant for public bathrooms and ass fucking. Not that it had been too surprising, given its increasing prevalence among young Italian principesse. Since virginity's still a hot commodity, especially among the more traditional upper class, they'd certainly found a way around it. And as long as the sheets are red stained on the wedding night, some people turn a blind eye to it.

  I don't.

  I've been surrounded by whores my entire life; I don't want to be tied to one forever.

  And it's because I know how these high society women behave, and how the men take advantage of them, that I've tried to shield my baby sister from it. I've done my best to shelter and protect her, even from our own parents. Even so, it had not been enough. She'd been ripped from her safe haven and shown the worst the world has to offer.

  And I'd failed her.

  I still have nightmares of the night we'd found her in front of the house, her dress in tatters; her back destroyed by some lunatic's blade. I'd taken her in my arms and she'd whimpered softly in pain–I'd felt my heart die that very moment. Catalina's always been my one weakness, the reason I complied with father's dictates. And to see her so battered, so hurt... I'd tried my best to help her recover from her ordeal, but some wounds never heal.

  I should know...

  It had all come crashing down when she found out she was pregnant. That was the day I'd cursed God and all other deities out there. It wasn't enough that she'd been defiled in the worst manner, she'd had to suffer further consequences.

  As expected, our family hadn't reacted well, and father had been ready to send her packing to the streets, especially when she'd declared she wanted to keep the baby. I'd improvised on the spot by suggesting she could go to a convent.

  Sacre Coeur's had tight connection with the mafia for generations, and at least there I was confident enough that she'd be safe. At least for now. I'd made a vow to my sister–as soon as my father died, I'd come for her.

  A few months ago, Lina gave birth to the most precious little girl. I'd been right there with her as she pushed her into the world. The moment I'd laid my eyes on her, I'd known that I'd do everything in my power to ensure she will n
ever come to harm. I wouldn't fail her like I did her mother.

  I stare down at my phone, at the photo of Lina and Claudia that I'd set as my wallpaper. They're the only thing that matters, and if keeping them safe means I'll have to marry Gianna, then so be it. Father knows very well that she is my weakness, and he will use her against me if he has to.

  Even if it weren't Gianna, it would be another Italian girl of impeccable breeding and far-reaching connections, and I know they all end up behaving the same–they take one look at me and want me as their personal sex slave. Just because I'm a man, they think anyone would do for me. Because what healthy, sane man would refuse readily available sex?

  Rising up, I head to the bathroom mirror. A cruel smile stretches across my face. What wouldn't I give to take a piece of glass and ruin this pretty face everyone seems so enamored of? A scar so grotesque it would make them avert their gazes instead of openly worshipping me with their eyes. My fingers trace the contour of the mirror, the thought so appealing yet so unreachable. I'd tried it once, and it had backfired. I'd learned my lesson that day–we can want certain things with all our might; it doesn't mean we're going to get them.

  I shake my head, trying to shrug off those thoughts. It never does me good when I indulge in fantasies... in the what ifs. Because in my alternate reality, I'm the ugliest person on earth. But at least then I can see who is genuine and who is not, who loves me for who I am, or who loves me only for my face.

  "Tough luck," I mutter to myself, and I go in search of a cigarette.

  The following morning I take out the briefcase and do a little swap, placing the ring in a small box instead. I do a quick inventory of my weapons and then I check out of the hotel.

  Getting in my car, I place some guns under the seat for easy reach before starting towards the airport. While this job should be easy, it never hurts to be extra safe, not only because of my line of work but also who I am. There's few people in Sicily who don't know who I am, and it might invite enemies to play.

  The car purrs to life and I quickly shift the gears until I'm skidding down the road. I'm twenty minutes into my ride when I notice another car right behind me. I monitor my side mirror and note that they are following me. Keeping a distance, they still take all the turns I take, even the dummy ones.

  Interesting.

  I decide to play with them a little, and I start surfing the streets of Palermo like a madman. The thugs are following suit, and I have to give it to them. Few people can keep up with my driving.

  I'm almost amused at the situation until they decide to pull guns on me, two men climbing out of the windows and aiming AK-47s at me.

  Fuck!

  That's not regular thugs.

  I swerve the car, barely avoiding the incoming bullets. I do a quick U turn and I avoid their car, but they are quick to follow.

  Shit!

  Their car seems to have a sunroof too, and one guy is quick to climb up and aim at me.

  I slam my foot on the brake and the bullets whizz through the passenger door.

  That was close!

  I put the car in reverse, and instead of running away, I go towards them at full speed. We're already in a secluded part of the city, so there is little chance of casualties. I also know that if I don't get rid of them now, then I'm going to be looking over my shoulder the entire trip.

  And that's something I do not want to do.

  I slip the ring into my pocket, and put two guns in my lap, ready to use them. I push down on the accelerator, at the same time unbuckling my seat belt. Once the car's moving at full speed, I grab onto the guns and I open the door, rolling onto the floor. The car crashes into theirs, but not before a few jump out.

  Fingers on triggers, I shield myself from any open attacks and I fire.

  The sound of bullets flying right and left is deafening, and the guys are holding their own pretty well. I take out two of them, and there's two more left. They've now abandoned the AKs in favor of more handy pistols.

  I keep shooting until I run out of ammo. I do my best to recharge the guns with speed, and then I switch positions.

  I need to end this fast.

  I have maybe twelve bullets left in total. I'll give myself six bullets per person, but that means that by the sixth bullet one person must be dead. Forced by the circumstances, I must take this seriously. I can't play anymore, which is a pity, since I needed to blow some steam after the conversation with my father last night.

  Entering a tense head space, I tune everything out and I look at my surroundings as a board game, calculating angles and distances.

  Lines and squares appear all around my field of vision, and I calculate the probabilities. To make it just a little more fun, I challenge myself to limit the game to two bullets per person.

  The moment I see an opening, I run out of my hiding place and across the street, hiding behind another car. Without giving them any time to regroup, I turn around and aim at the first guy. One bullet lodges itself in his leg while the other in his heart.

  One down!

  The other seems to have hidden. I scan the area for any movement, and I finally spot him trying to make his way inside the already ruined car.

  Interesting. He's looking for something.

  My lips curl up as I watch him take the empty briefcase, convinced it must have the ring inside. I spend a second at war with myself. Should I kill him, or let him leave with the empty case?

  The decision is made for me when he enthusiastically opens the case to realize there's no ring. Even better, his impatience puts him in my vantage point so it takes only one squeeze of the trigger to watch him fall.

  Targets vanquished, and with plenty of bullets left, I raise to my feet and dust my suit. Retrospectively, I realize maybe I should not have been so careless with my car since I find myself rideless at the moment.

  I stop by a window to make sure I look presentable enough, and then I hail a taxi. I might still make it to my flight.

  True to his word, the taxi driver takes me swiftly to the airport. The moment I step inside, something is odd. I can feel it in the way the guards are looking at me. Even the airport staff seem to be in on some type of joke as they follow my every movement.

  I'm alert and a little wary, but my suspicions are confirmed only when I see a few other people in black suits heading towards the security area, their clothes clearly hiding guns.

  Shit!

  Whoever it is after this ring has the entire airport controlled. There's no way I'm getting out alive if I continue.

  I try to look as relaxed as possible as I make my way to the restroom. The moment I'm inside, I immediately lock the door and prop a mop under the handle. Then I think about my options.

  The bathroom has a window that connects to the outside yard. I raise myself up to survey the area, and I don't spot any black suits. For now, this might be my safest bet.

  I hold on to the stall as I push myself into the window, propelling myself outside. It takes a little effort, considering the size of the window. My feet hit the ground with a thud and I make a run for it.

  Stopping by the parking lot, I don't even think as I break a window and hot wire an old Fiat.

  If the airport is a no-go, then my only option is by sea. The question remains — who the fuck would be so desperate to get their hands on a damned ring?

  Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I dial Manolo. I quickly explain the situation to him, but I only get a vague answer.

  "You knew what you signed up for." He says, and I bet he's shrugging off his responsibility. Gritting my teeth, I hang up, the urge to smash the phone almost too overwhelming.

  Yes, these jobs come with a certain degree of danger, but for someone to control an entire airport?

  One hand on the wheel, I use the other to take out the ring and study it. There has to be more to it... Curious, a little peeved, but mostly still committed, I map out my course.

  I always keep a yacht at Porto Empedocle, so I just have to get there
and set sail to Malta. A few hours by sea, there shouldn't be any issues — at least I hope.

  I change cars when I'm outside Palermo, and then it's only a couple more hours until I reach Agrigento. I stop in the city to do some shopping. When I pass by a bookshop, a sudden idea forms in my mind. Maybe I can find more about this ring.

  I enter the bookstore and I browse the history section. I find a few titles about Anglo-Saxon England and decide to buy those. I'm almost at the register when I spot a kid looking quite scandalized as he picks an erotic novel, the cover a dead giveaway for the genre.

  A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth, and I watch amused as he furtively starts reading the first pages before deciding to buy it. He goes to the cashier and puts the book face down on the counter.

  I stay slightly behind, noting the nervousness of his movements. He can't be more than thirteen or fourteen, his height a clear indication that he hasn't gone through puberty yet. He must be all of five feet, and his clothes seem to hang over his slender frame. Once he's paid, he puts the novel inside his bag and dashes out of the shop.

  I slide my own books on the counter, the ghost of a smile still on my lips. Absentmindedly, I grab some cash from my wallet and give it to the cashier. When I look at the person behind the counter, though, my smile falls immediately. She's biting her lip and gazing at me with a come hither look, slowly pushing a note with her number on top of the books.

  I roll my eyes and take the books, leaving her note behind.

  "Signor..." I hear her call behind me, but I'm already out the door.

  Perfect way to ruin my day.

  My lip twitches in annoyance and I pull on my pack of cigarettes, slipping one between my lips and lighting it. Taking a deep drag, I dial my uncle to ask him for some more weapons. Seeing that this ring might prove more dangerous than I'd previously thought, I need to be prepared for anything.