Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

  "We'll have them in a bit," he assures me.

  And he's right. An order of cherries arrives not thirty minutes after he hangs up.

  Enzo forces me to remain where I am, saying he's going to take care of everything. He washes the cherries carefully, after which he starts on the batter.

  "Do you know what you're doing?" I ask as he looks perplexed at the ingredients.

  He shrugs, pulling up his phone to google a recipe.

  "It can't be that hard." He replies cockily.

  An hour later and two failed batters, it is that hard.

  I watch in delight as he struggles with the right consistency. The entire kitchen is a mess, and there's flour on the floor, on the counter, and on Enzo himself.

  His entire chest is painted in white, and half his face too.

  "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

  "I got this," he narrows his eyes at his phone. "I think I know what went wrong."

  He goes back to mixing the batter, and I can't hide my amusement anymore when the second bag of flour explodes at the bottom, the contents falling down on him.

  "You clearly don't." I jump off the table to help him.

  "No, you shouldn't exert yourself," he's quick to stop me, but I swat his hands aside.

  "Enzo, I am cranky and hungry and you look like you've never been in a kitchen before." A sheepish smile appears on his face at my tirade, so I raise an eyebrow. "You haven't, have you?" I almost groan.

  "Guilty. But it can't be that hard."

  "Have you seen yourself in the last couple of hours. It is that hard. For you. Now step aside," I playfully smack him with my butt, moving him aside as I start assembling the ingredients again.

  "Watch and learn, city boy."

  I start on the eggs, adding some sugar and beating them together until I have a nice and thick consistency.

  "See, it's not that difficult," he notes ironically as I finish mixing all the ingredients into a cohesive whole.

  I tilt my head as I study him. "And yet someone couldn't get it right even on the third try."

  "Hey! I got the cherries," he defends himself, hand on his heart as if I just hurt his manly pride.

  Finishing everything, I put the cake tray in the oven.

  "Now we wait." I take a seat on a chair, my gaze fixed on the oven clock.

  Just a little longer...

  My mouth is already salivating at the thought of having the spongy cake melt in my mouth. Closing my eyes, a soft moan escapes me.

  But then I open my eyes to find Enzo on his knees before me, his hand on my belly, an expression of awe on his face.

  He fits his palm over the small bump.

  "It grows so fast," he says, almost breathlessly.

  It's also the first time he's touched me like this in weeks.

  "You know," I start, my fingers trailing all over his face and smearing the flour around, "I'm not made of glass. I'm not going to break if you..." I trail off, the sudden darkening of his eyes telling me it's not for lack of desire.

  "I don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his hand drifting lower. A breath catches in my throat, excitement building up inside of me.

  "You won't. The doctor said it's ok if we're careful."

  His face comes closer to mine, and I wet my lips, ready for the much anticipated kiss. We're a mere breath away from each other when the alarm on the oven ticks.

  Damn...

  Enzo smirks at me as he dons a pair of mittens and takes the cake out and puts it on the table.

  Too impatient, I take it out of the tray and cut it in pieces, taking one and blowing on it. Enzo is quick to swipe it out of my hand, shaking his head at me.

  "Wait. It's too hot." I pout at him.

  Reluctantly, I wait a couple of minutes, but my gaze never strays away from the cake. Again, Enzo surprises me by trying the cake before giving me his approval.

  "Finally," I sigh in pleasure as I bite into the cake. I devour one piece, then another.

  Enzo's staring me with an odd expression on his face as I chew on the cake, so I find myself asking. "What?"

  "You're so pretty when you're happy," his words take me aback, especially since I don't detect any untruths on his face. "And before you come for me," he continues, "I'm not lying, or trying to butter you up. It's simply the truth."

  "Then why don't you do something about it?" I ask, shamelessly.

  "God, do I want to..." he groans, taking a step forward. Wounding my arms around his neck, I raise myself on my tiptoes to lay a kiss on his lips.

  "You know," I start, caressing his face with mine, the flour slightly abrasive against my skin, "pregnant women have needs."

  "Do they," he cups my cheeks in his hands, his nose nuzzling mine in a sweet gesture. "What my woman wants I'll have to oblige." His words send a shiver down my back, particularly the fact that he called me his woman.

  "Kiss me, damn..." I don't get to finish my words as his mouth is on mine. His hands move down my body until he grabs my ass, lifting me into him. Wrapping my legs around his torso, his hard length comes right into contact with my center, a prickle of awareness turning into a mountain of sensation.

  "Damn, sleeping next to you and not touching you was pure torture," he admits, his voice rough.

  "You're not the only one."

  And I also have pregnancy hormones that make me a horny mess. But I refrain from saying that out loud.

  He places me on the table, his fingers slowly skimming along the inside of my thighs before slipping my panties off my legs.

  "Slow... we need to go slow," he mutters, almost as if he's trying to convince himself of that.

  He encounters me slick and wet, but as he plays with me I find that I lack the patience for foreplay.

  I tug at his pants, pushing them down his hips and wrapping my hand around his cock.

  "Inside. Now." I urge, guiding him towards my entrance.

  "Your wish is my command. Always," he whispers in my hair as the head nudges against my heat. He's teasing me as he strokes his cock along the seam of my pussy, coating it in my wetness.

  "Fuck, my little tigress," he grits his teeth as he sinks into me slowly, inch by inch.

  We both moan at the sensation, our mouths fused to one another. He holds me close to his chest as he pushes in all the way, settling deep inside me.

  Staring into each other's eyes, he thrusts into me slowly, and I feel every bit of him as he completes me. His hand is stroking my cheek, his thumb parting my lips and sneaking inside.

  I suck it into my mouth, all the while not taking my eyes off him.

  I don't know if it's the pregnancy emotions that are simply out of control, but feeling him so deep inside causes me to tear up. I make to avert my face, embarrassed by this sudden outburst.

  "Shh, baby girl. I'm here with you," his hands keep my head in place, his gaze unwavering. "Let it all out," his tone is gentle, and somehow it all crashes down.

  I wrap my hands around his neck, my heels digging into his ass as I urge him on.

  The tears flow freely as my entire body is flooded with love — for him and for our baby.

  "Ah, Enzo..." I start before I can stop myself, "how I wish you were all mine," unrequited love and longing imbue my words with hopelessness.

  "I am, little tigress. All yours," he replies, his lips trailing around my cheek, kissing the tears away.

  "I wish I could believe you," I whisper, a tight lump forming in my chest.

  "Trust me," his fingers grasp my ass, impaling me with a hard thrust. "You have all of me," he lays his forehead on top of mine, his hips still pumping in and out of me.

  I feel the moment nearing, and I grab on to his shoulders, holding him close and absorbing the meaning of his words.

  I really wish I could believe him.

  But I don't.

  My entire body convulses as I come around him, tears still leaking from my eyes. My pussy grips him tightly and he soon follows, spilling himself inside me.


  On a ragged breath, the euphoria of the orgasm makes him whisper sweet words in my ears.

  I hold on to those words, clinging to a hopeless hope that nonetheless still exists in my heart.

  Wretched is the one who loves, but can never be loved back.

  Even as I know his words to be a lie, I accept them. I'll remain in my shackles as I watch the shadowy illusions play on the wall, and somehow I'll make myself believe they're true.

  Because the alternative is a long, suffocating death of my soul.

  Chapter Nineteen

  SURPRISINGLY, ENZO continues to amaze me. After our late-night kitchen adventure, he started learning how to bake the perfect cake, and he loves to surprise me now and then with a new recipe.

  I never saw it coming, but we've settled into a comfortable routine. He spends most of his time at home, with me, only going to work when he's called for an emergency.

  We resumed our library sessions, and with time I started loosening up around him.

  I'm still a bit wary of him and his intentions, but I'm trying to enjoy my pregnancy.

  "Look at our little one," he looks lovingly at the sonogram, tracing the features of our baby with his fingers.

  "I can't believe we're having a boy," he whispers, almost reverently.

  "I knew from the start," I tease. From the beginning I said I wanted a boy while he'd shared he wanted a girl.

  "Another little tigress cub to join our family. Just like her mamma," he'd say.

  "Now we'll have another handsome devil like his papa," I move closer to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

  "I wish he wouldn't," he says, so softly I can barely hear him. I turn my head towards him, my brows knitting in confusion.

  "What do you mean?"

  The tick in his jaw lets me know this is a delicate subject.

  "Being handsome doesn't guarantee you anything except doubting everyone's intentions towards you." He says cryptically.

  "I don't understand..."

  "Remember Symposium?" he asks, and I nod. "It's easy to desire the flesh — it's innate. It's human nature to be drawn to beauty. It's harder, though, to desire the soul, because you're first dazzled or repulsed by the flesh," he pauses, his hand gently stroking my hair. " But when everyone desires the flesh, how do you know who desires the soul?"

  "So you'd rather be repulsive?" I counter, because our experiences are polar opposites. "Isn't it the same the other way around? When everyone is repulsed by the flesh, how do you get someone to give you a chance?" He may have grown up fawned by everyone around him, but I grew up being scorned by everyone, so I can attest that it's not fun either.

  "I'd rather be... normal," he says with a sigh. "Average... the type of person you'd pass by on the street and you wouldn't look twice at."

  "I'd rather be pretty too. We all want what we can't have."

  His fingers suddenly grip my chin as he forces me to look in his eyes.

  "You are. To me you're the prettiest woman," he says, and for once I don't argue. Instead I smile, going up on my tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. So what if he's lying? For once in my life I feel pretty, and his words bring me even more joy.

  "Thank you," I whisper against his lips.

  I refrain from telling him that I'm not with him because of his looks, and that it's the glimpses into his heart that made me fall in love with him. Because that would mean admitting my feelings, and I don't want to give him any future leverage.

  We're fine like this, loving but with no words of love. We're... comfortable.

  My next appointment to the doctor comes, and we get ready to go together. On the way to the hospital, though, Enzo receives a phone call about an urgent situation at Sacre Coeur where his sister lives.

  "I don't want to leave you alone," he says reluctantly, and I can tell he's genuinely sorry for missing the appointment.

  "Go help your sister. There will be more appointments," I push at him playfully.

  A little more back and forth and he finally decides to go, but not before assigning me double the number of bodyguards.

  When we reach the hospital, I convince my bodyguards to wait outside the gynecology section, not wanting to inconvenience anyone with five menacing looking men.

  I enter the hallway and take a seat in the waiting area. I'm a little early, so the nurse informs me to wait until my name is called.

  Picking one of the magazines lying around, I try to immerse myself in the reading, hoping time will pass faster.

  I notice, though, from the corner of my eye as a man sits right beside me. I frown, noting all the other empty seats around.

  Odd.

  Trying to ignore it, I turn back to my magazine.

  "Nice weather for November," the man speaks, and I realize he's addressing me.

  "Sorry, I'm married," I say quickly, showing my ring finger. I've experienced Enzo's jealousy before, and I don't want a repeat.

  Instead, I stand up to move seats.

  "It's not a pickup line, Mrs. Agosti." His knowledge of my name has me immediately on alert.

  "Special Agent McNaught," he opens his jacket slightly, showing me his badge. "Please sit down."

  "I'm sorry, I think you got the wrong person." I say, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

  "Your husband is Enzo Agosti, son of Rocco Agosti. Please sit down. You might be interested in what I have to say."

  I don't know what prompts me to do this, but I resume my seat. I'm well aware that both Rocco and Enzo operate outside the law, but I've never heard specifics.

  "What do you want?" I ask, keeping my gaze forward.

  "We've been studying your husband's family for a while now. It's very much a surprise to be able to meet you here. We've known about your existence for a couple of years now, but you've barely been sighted in the city before."

  "So?"

  "I can only assume your husband has been keeping you away." He says, and he's not far off the mark. Still, I don't trust him.

  "I'm not sure how that's any of your business, agent." I mutter, a little put off by his tone.

  "I don't know if you're aware, but your attending physician when you had your ER visit in August noted potential domestic abuse in your file. That's how you came into our sights for the first time."

  "I explained to the doctor, and I'll explain the same to you. It wasn't, and it's never been domestic abuse." I grit my teeth.

  Why are people so quick to assume?

  "Do you know what your husband's family does, Mrs. Agosti?" The agent continues, and I have an idea where this is going.

  "Yes. They own a restaurant chain." I answer truthfully.

  "The restaurant is a front for multiple clubs facilitating drugs, human trafficking and prostitution."

  I don't answer, because what can one say when faced with such facts?

  "So? Get to the point, agent."

  "I think we can help each other. We know of the existence of these clubs, but we don't know the exact locations. If you could find that out for us then..."

  I tilt my head to the side, a bored expression on my face.

  "We'll help you get out. We can move you into a witness protection program. You and your child would be safe." He nods towards my belly.

  I smile at him sweetly. It's interesting how a few months again I would have jumped at this opportunity. But I've since decided to give Enzo and parenthood a chance. And my baby will have both parents.

  "That sounds like an interesting story, agent. For whom will believe you." I start, and I look at him from the corner of my eye. His fists are clenched.

  "Mrs. Agosti," the nurse calls out for me and I stand up to go. But I feel the need to clarify one thing.

  "Just for the record, agent. I am not in an abusive relationship, and my husband is a wonderful man. If you'll excuse me," I start walking towards the cabinet, when the agent grabs me by the hand.

  I'm ready to go on the defensive, but he only slides a contact card in my hands. />
  "If you ever change your mind," he nods at me before he disappears down the hallway.

  ALTHOUGH THE ENCOUNTER with the agent rattled me, I tried to put it off my mind. It wasn't worth losing energy over it. But for some reason, after I'd gotten home, I'd immediately set out to find the location of those clubs. It had taken me a few weeks, some strategic snooping and listening in to phone calls, but I'd done it.

  Leverage.

  That's what I told myself. After all, nothing is ever certain in this world, and I won't take any chances with my baby.

  I'd only managed to find where two of the clubs are, but I have another list with properties owned by Rocco under different aliases. If anything were to happen, I'd be ready.

  But being by Enzo's side is too intoxicating, and the guilt's starting to eat me alive. He's been so attentive, so caring, that by doing this I feel like I'm betraying his trust.

  After the initial missed appointment, Enzo made it a priority not to miss any of the others.

  Currently at thirty-six weeks pregnant and I feel like a whale.

  "It's all your fault." I grumble as we head home from the latest checkup. "You're feeding me too much cake."

  He'd really become a master pastry chef. I'd always joke with him that he could quit his life of crime and just get a job as a chef at one of his restaurants.

  "My boy needs his strength," he jokes, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head. "Now tell me honestly," he talks in between small kisses, "what do you want for your birthday? You can have anything you want."

  "Anything?" I raise an eyebrow, jokingly.

  "Anything, so shoot."

  "Hmm...." your love, "nothing. I have everything I want. Or I will, once this little one decides it's time to come into the world."

  "Just a couple more weeks until your due date, little tigress, and we'll meet our baby boy." He leans forward to kiss my enormous bump.

  "Luca, can you stop by the gas station. I need to get some cigarettes." Enzo instructs our driver.

  I look back and see the other car still behind us.

  "Do we really need that many bodyguards when we go out?" I ask, mostly out of curiosity.

  "I'm never taking chances with your life, little tigress. Besides, they always keep a distance so they don't bother you too much."