Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

  "Enzo, mon fils, not all women are like your mother."

  "I know that," I say with a wry smile. "Allegra is unlike anyone I've ever met. She's just... special."

  Her smile, her warmth, how she'd made me look forward to waking up in the morning.

  "Then why don't you tell her what happened? Open up to her? I'm sure she'd be understanding."

  I take a deep breath.

  "I think I broke her heart, maman, and I'm not sure she's ever going to forgive me."

  "Enzo..." maman leans back, her lips pursed, and I finally let all my worries spill.

  "I need to keep her at arm's length. Catalina's rape... Romina's death... it all happened to people I vowed to protect. I can't fail her too." I look away, the pain threatening to spill.

  "Mon Dieu," maman crosses herself, "tell me you don't actually believe it was your fault. You couldn't have done anything to prevent those horrible things from happening."

  "Maybe I could have..."

  "Enzo!" Suddenly standing up, she plants herself in front of me, lifting my jaw so I can look her in the eyes.

  "After everything that happened, life gave you a woman that by all accounts is your match in every way. Why would you alienate her when I can see the pain in your eyes as you say her name? Mon fils, one thing I've learned in my life... Quality people don't come by easily. And when they do, you hold on to them against all odds. Now get out of here and go apologize to your wife. Maybe she'll still have you."

  She doesn't leave room for argumentation as she turns her back to me, taking a seat by the window.

  I gather my ruffled coat, and I head out, almost dreading going home.

  It's been so long since I've remembered those days of my childhood so clearly.

  Childhood...

  I almost laugh at the notion. I stopped being a child the first time mother touched me inappropriately.

  Yet, for all my enthusiastic immersion in the mob, for all the people I killed... she still lives.

  I was thirteen the first time I tried to kill her, only to be interrupted by my little sister crying for her mother.

  I was fourteen the second time. I'd just learned how easy it was to pull the trigger and watch someone's soul exit their body. And yet, as I held the gun to her sleeping form, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

  Weak!

  So weak... and the memories had continued to torment me, the idea that all women wanted one thing from me firmly and irrevocably planted in my mind.

  Throughout the years her presence became more bearable, even though her touch was still repulsive. But I managed, because she was still my sisters' mother.

  Now...

  Catalina's gone. Romina's dead. Augusta is far away...

  There's nothing holding me back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  MY EYES SNAP OPEN WHEN I hear footsteps down the hallway. That can only mean one thing.

  Enzo's back.

  Three days he's been absent... three days in which I'd cried my last tears — for the idiot I'd been, and for the brilliant actor he'd turned out to be.

  No more!

  Getting out of my bed, I open the door, coming face to face to the man who's been tormenting me from day one.

  But the sight I find is not the one I expected.

  He's wearing the same white shirt and black pants he'd been wearing last I saw him. His eyes widen when he notices me. My gaze moves over his body, and I note the shadows on his face, the slight growth of beard on his jaw...

  He doesn't look good.

  As I step towards him, I almost feel sorry for him.

  Maybe it was the grief talking.

  Just as I tell myself that, I catch a whiff of the same perfume that had been clinging to his skin the last time — a woman's perfume.

  He was with that woman again... He fucked another woman.

  I don't even wait for the pain to settle in my chest as my hand stretches out, the echo of a slap resounding in the hallway. His face moves to the side, but he doesn't react. He just looks at me in a bored manner, his entire expression closed off.

  "This was for last time," I start, willing my voice to remain steady. I'd rehearsed so many times the things I'd like to scream in his face, but as I look at him now, I find myself rather speechless.

  "I told you once, Enzo Agosti, that I'll give as good as I get. If you ever think to bully me again, then you'd better watch where you sleep."

  He doesn't react to my threat, his shoulders angling up in a lazy shrug.

  "Do your worst," he says, closing the door to his room in my face.

  Speechless, I stare at the closed door.

  What just happened?

  The following day is even worse. Sunday is the only day of the week when we're all expected to come down for dinner — the only day Rocco himself is present.

  Tensions run high as I make my way to the dining room. Rocco is seated at one end of the table, with Lucia on his left side. Enzo is seated at the other end, and I take my seat next to him as expected.

  Everyone is silent as the dishes are served, but I detect a quiet smugness on Lucia's face.

  Does she know?

  She must, otherwise she wouldn't be gloating like this. Was she in on it too? Make fun of the peasant girl — gain her trust and discard her like trash?

  Something strange seems to pass between Enzo and Lucia, their eyes intensely glued to each other. It only serves to confirm further that I may have been played — by everyone.

  I won't cry... not anymore.

  "Father," I address Rocco as he'd asked me. He stops eating, putting his utensils down and turning his attention to me. He raises an eyebrow and I take a deep breath, my plan set.

  "I think it's been long enough now since my marriage to Enzo, and we don't need to pretend to be cordial anymore. I'd like to move into my own place." I look him straight in the eyes as I say this, showing no weakness.

  His eyes widen and his fists hit the table, his bowl of soup jumping up and spilling some liquid on to the tablecloth. Another sound from my right tells me Enzo's done the same thing.

  "Enzo, what is this? Is this some sort of joke?" Rocco sputters as he looks between the two of us.

  "No, it's..." I start, wanting to make my position clear. But a hand grabs my leg from under the table, squeezing my flesh hard.

  "Of course it's a joke, father." Enzo amends, throwing in a smile for good measure. I try to shake off his hand, but his hold tightens to a painful degree.

  "It's not funny, son. It's borderline insulting that she'd even suggest such a thing." Rocco exclaims, clearly incensed.

  The hypocrisy doesn't escape me, as I know fully well that like his son, he spends most of his time with whores. The mere reminder that Enzo's been playing me like a fool while he'd been sleeping with who knows who has me almost rabid with anger. So I return Enzo's loving touch by lodging my nails in his hand. The more he squeezes my thigh, the more pressure I apply, digging my nails deeper in his skin, the thought of drawing blood a small satisfaction.

  "Don't worry, father. She's not serious." Enzo continues, gritting his teeth in pain, and my desire to hurt him increases tenfold.

  He knew how careful I was with my heart, and he went through great lengths to get it and then stomp on it. Death is the greatest mercy for those like him.

  "Enzo," Rocco turns to his son, his expression grave "your wife doesn't know her place. She needs to be disciplined." He turns to me with narrowed eyes. "Women need to know where they stand, and how much they should open their mouths."

  "Discipline? I'm not a child." I burst out, incredulous he'd even suggest such a thing. Enzo's fingers tighten painfully, but I've long forgotten about the pain.

  "Shut it, Allegra." Enzo says through gritted teeth.

  "Son, I think you need to show your wife who's the man in the house." Rocco continues, and Lucia is finding it harder to hide her happiness at the turn of events.

  "What do you..." I trail off when I feel a pinch in m
y thigh. I turn to Enzo, but his expression is unyielding.

  "She needs to know what respect means. If you can't do it then..."

  "I'll do it." Enzo replies immediately, forcefully tugging me to my feet. "Don't worry, father, she won't bother you again."

  Rocco hums in approval.

  "She needs to learn from your mother — seen but not heard. I rather think she needs something else in that mouth of hers," the corners of his mouths pull up, the innuendo clear.

  Enzo drags me out of the dining room and into his office, closing the door behind him.

  "Are you really that stupid, Allegra," he asks, coming towards me with measured steps, "to bring that up with my father?"

  "Well, this," I point between us, "is clearly not working, so we might as well go our separate ways." Folding my arms over my chest, I take a defensive position lest he see through my mask.

  "Separate ways," he scoffs, laughing derisively at me. He comes closer, his hand gripping my arm and bringing me into him. "You forget one small detail, wife. Till death do us apart. Either I die first or you do, there's no going back. You're mine for the rest of your days, so you might as well get used to it."

  Ignoring his words, I push him off, heading for the door.

  "Where do you think you're going?" His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me with wry amusement.

  "Evidently anywhere you're not." I roll my eyes at him.

  It's easier to go on the offensive than to acknowledge the way my heart still skips a beat when I'm near him.

  "I think there's one outstanding problem," he casually comments as he folds the sleeves of his shirt up.

  "Not my business," I shrug.

  I try to pass by him, but somehow he maneuvers us both on the couch in the middle of the room. I fall on top of him, lying across his lap. My dress is suddenly raised over my hips, the cold air hitting my skin and making me squirm.

  "What..." I don't even get the words out as a slap comes down on my ass.

  Hard.

  I yelp in pain at the surprise.

  "That mouth is going to get you into trouble, Allegra," he says as he slaps my butt again. And again.

  "You should be thankful it's not my belt that's touching your pretty ass." His palm touches my skin tenderly, his movements gently diffusing the pain.

  "But father was right. You do need disciplining." Another stinging pain as he continues to spank me, stopping now and then to caress my battered bottom.

  Tears are gathering at the corner of my eyes, but I keep myself from crying out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of winning.

  I suffer in silence until he ends his discipline session. Draping my skirt over my legs again, he pulls me to a standing position on his lap.

  "Vile... you're vile," I grind my teeth as I spew the insult at him, his erection hard and digging into me.

  He's getting off on my pain.

  I scramble to my feet, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

  "And you'd do well to remember that Allegra," he says as I rush to the door, wrenching it open to see both Rocco and Lucia waiting outside, their faces full of delight.

  "I'm proud of you, son," I hear Rocco's words as I move past them, and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.

  Fool. I'm such a fool.

  TIME PASSES AND I FIND that it's not so easy to bury my heart as I'd previously thought. Enzo and I engage in small taunting matches, but even when he annoys me his presence is comforting. I feel trapped between my pride and my feelings. My pride doesn't let me give him an inch, whereas my feelings want me to give him my entire heart.

  Lucia, noticing the drift between us, keeps upping her antics. She knows I can't leave, so she does everything in her power to make me miserable.

  The pinnacle of it all was when I found a small camera embedded in the wall. Initially, I'd been furious, thinking she'd been spying on me — on us — the entire time. But as the anger had subsided, I'd realized that I could use this to beat her at her own game. I'd left the camera there, and I'd moved some furniture around so that it obscured the view of the bed.

  Seeing that she can no longer monitor me, Lucia had become more creative. Case in point, the situation I'm staring at now.

  I shake my head as I watch a rat running around my room before burrowing under my bed.

  She's trying, but that doesn't mean she's succeeding. Rats don't phase me — I am a peasant girl after all. I'm used to animals of all sizes and varieties.

  But that can't be said about dear Lucia.

  Using some leftovers, I bait the rat until I catch him in a makeshift box. Then, waiting until Lucia's out for her afternoon social calls, I sneak inside her room and leave the rat under her pillow.

  Later that night, when I hear a sweet shrill of panic resound in the house, I smile to myself.

  Peasant girl - 1; Vicious mother-in-law - 0.

  The conflicts continue, and I have no idea if Enzo or Rocco are even aware of the extent of our enmity.

  It's not as if I see my husband more than once every couple of days anyway... At this rate he'll even forget he has a wife — if he hasn't already.

  One night, though, as I surreptitiously make my way to the kitchen to steal some food, I come face to face with my husband. And I can't even gloat at the way I find him.

  His clothes are soaked in blood, more red liquid dripping from his forehead and falling down his cheek. His breath is ragged as he holds on to his midriff, his steps uncoordinated.

  I gasp, my hands going to my mouth as my eyes wildly assess his condition.

  "Enzo," I whisper, and he puts one hand up to wave me away, trudging his way to his room.

  For once, my hatred is put aside as I hurry in his wake, stopping by my room to grab the first aid kit.

  He's sitting on the bed, the bloodied shirt discarded next to him, and I see the extent of his injuries. Angry slashes are all over his torso, all of them leaking blood.

  "Enzo," coming down to my knees, I start assessing the damage. "What happened?" I ask as I pull open the first aid kit, taking out some bandages and disinfectant.

  He just shrugs, as if it's no big deal that he came home half dead.

  Keeping himself still, he watches me intently as I dab at his wounds, the flaring of his nose the only indication of pain.

  "Why would you do this to yourself?" I ask, more to myself. I continue cleaning his skin, but the blood won't stop pouring out of the open laceration. With the back of my hand, I wipe a tear from my eye, belatedly realizing I'm crying.

  Damn!

  "It's the way of our world, little tigress," he eventually answers, but he's not looking at me. He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pants, lighting one up.

  "Does it have to be?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. "What if one day you go out and never come back? I know our world is full of violence? But do you have to..." I sigh, frustration gnawing at my insides. "Look at you now," I point to his still bleeding wounds.

  "Allegra," he cracks a smile, smoke coming out of his mouth and into my face, "you speak as if you care about me."

  "So what if I do?"

  "Don't," he declares, that seductive smile still on his face but not quite reaching his eyes. Tucking a stray strand behind my ear, he leans into me. A mix of his hot breath and cigarette smoke blows softly in my ear as he whispers, "don't forget this was never anything more than me paying my dues."

  "What are you trying to say?" My voice is clear, my tone unaffected, even though inside I'm slowly dying.

  "This is an arrangement, my dear wife. It will never be anything but," his empty eyes look at me, and in them I see the confirmation of his words.

  "Is that why you won't let me touch you? Because it's an arrangement? What do you even see me as? A little sister?" The unspoken accusation is there — am I so disgusting to him? I must be, given his reaction to me.

  "You're not my little sister Allegra and thank god for that. You're my partner, my wife."
>
  I drop my hand from his torso, laughing. It seems we have two different definitions of wife.

  "Really? So you get to fuck your whores and I'm to remain like this. Lonely and... alone. How is this a partnership?"

  It's not as if it's the first time he's lied to me about our so-called partnership. In his view, it's me being entirely biddable and accommodating. He takes and I just give...

  "Easy, little tigress, put your claws away. Who I fuck is none of your business. Don't try to pretend you expected fidelity when it's been this way for generations. You knew what you were signing up for. "

  I tilt my head to the side, studying him and his audacity.

  "Did I? Then I'll find someone else to fuck too."

  The clench of his fists is unmistakable, the way his lip is twitching in displeasure, and I know I hit the mark.

  "Listen, little tigress," he speaks low in his throat, the underlying threat sending a shiver down my spine. His hand comes to lie on the column of my neck, his fingers caressing my pulse. "You ever so much look at another man and you won't like what I become. He'll be a dead man and I'll make sure you never see the light of the day again. You're carrying my name, which means you're mine. Understood?"

  Refusing to show any signs of weakness, I stare him right in the eye.

  "What about women?" I ask, a need to rile him up growing inside of me.

  "I'm one of the few that doesn't differentiate, darling. If anyone so much as touches you, they will cease to exist. That, I vow." His face twists in a cruel smile, his lips barely a breath away from mine.

  "Then why don't you do it? Why don't you sleep with me?" Could I have sounded more pathetic? Still, I need to know...

  "Honestly, dear, you'd be a lousy fuck." He smirks, releasing me and getting up, disappearing in the bathroom.

  Curiosity satisfied.

  I close my eyes, and with a deep sigh, I get up, leaving the room without looking back.

  WEEKS PASS AND IT SLOWLY dawns on me that Enzo really doesn't want anything to do with me. I try to fill my time with meaningful things, but even my outings have become far in between. I started writing more, and my diary has become a window to my soul. Every little thing that happens finds its way inside.