Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3)

by Veronica Lancet

  But most of all, what will he say when he realizes his empire is no longer his?

  To say it's been tough to get here is an understatement. I feel like dying inside the more I see my Allegra languishing there in a state of being, but not being. She's on life support and knowing that anyone could walk in and pull the plug has me perpetually restless.

  I visit her weekly, but it's not enough. It's never enough. I want her by my side and in my bed. I want to worship her body and make love to her like never before.

  I want to show her my love.

  I'd never jerked off to a woman's picture before her. But sometimes the longing becomes too much, and I find myself coming with her name on my lips, reliving the many times I'd fucked her hard and fast but also the other times, during her pregnancy, when we'd gone so agonizingly slow, exploring each other's bodies and connecting on a soul level.

  "And I win," I smirk, "again," I pull the chips towards me, noting some people watching me closely from the sidelines.

  Sure enough, one of them comes to me, speaking low in my ear that his boss wants to see me. I shrug, and seemingly very compliant, I follow him to the back.

  He opens a door for me to step in before closing it in his wake.

  It seems I'm regaled with a private audience.

  The room is dark, a low lamp on the desk in the back, allowing only for enough light to see the silhouette of a man. Smoke is coming from what I assume is a cigar, and glinting eyes watch me attentively.

  "You've been trying to get my attention for a while Agosti," he rumbles, a deep, rough voice from decades of smoking.

  "I'd say it worked." I joke.

  It's imperative to keep my playful mask on, even though I suspect the man in front of me might know the truth.

  "Take a seat," he motions in front of him and I oblige.

  He wasn't an easy man to find, and this wasn't my first attempt. But it would be worth it in the end — even if I'm selling my soul to the devil.

  "I'm surprised you took the bait this time," I incline my head, lighting a cigarette of my own.

  "I felt sorry for you, boy. You've been to what? Ten of my casinos in the last year? And you're always counting cards... tsk, tsk. I thought you would have learned your lesson after the shoot-out, or the beatings, but here you are — again." His tone is filled with amusement, so I know that even though we're technically enemies, he might admire my perseverance.

  "You know," he continues, leaning back in the shadows, "initially I thought this was about your sister. But it's not, is it?"

  "No. It's not," I reply, even though it takes everything in me to put that tidbit of information out of my mind. It had been even harder to put my thirst for revenge aside so I could bargain with him. But I find that for Allegra there's nothing I wouldn't do.

  Even joining hands with the person who had my sister killed.

  He's the only one with interests and resources to help me achieve what I want — total annihilation of the Agosti empire.

  "Of course," he smiles, "you wouldn't be sitting so calmly across from me then. But I figured this before I invited you in. You see, you fascinate me, Mr. Agosti."

  "Do I?"

  "There's something about you that doesn't fit the mold. I must say, I'm rarely surprised by people. But you've managed to do just that," he rises from his seat, his back to me as he stares out the window into the night. "Is your wife worth all this?" He asks, and I'm momentarily stunned. But then I realize who I'm talking to — one of the most elusive drug lords in America. Of course he'd have ears everywhere.

  "She is. She is my heart." I reply, unashamed of what Allegra means to me.

  "I envy you. Maybe if my heart had been alive I wouldn't be here either..." he trails off. Taking a deep breath, he turns to me, stepping from the shadows so I get my first glimpse of him.

  He's a handsome man, even in his fifties, with a strong physique and shrewd eyes that seem to see through everything.

  "Let's talk business, shall we?" His open invitation is all I needed to put my offer on the table.

  "I'll go straight to the point. I'll give you New York as long as you help me take down Rocco and the Marchesi. I want them to never see it coming — to hit where it hurts."

  Once I'd found out the circumstances of Romina's death, I'd been able to piece together why she'd had to die. And the lists of suspects had narrowed significantly.

  But there's only one person powerful enough to dare something like that, and desperate enough to attempt it — Arturo Jimenez.

  He'd correctly assumed that Romina's death would drive a wedge between Agosti and Lastra, and further leave the five families in shambles, going at each other's throats and not noticing a smaller presence slowly entrenching on their territories.

  Jimenez had long wanted to move his business to New York, and I'll just make his dream come true.

  "That's a rather generous offer," he raises an eyebrow, doubt clear in his gaze.

  "I don't care about the famiglia as long as I get my revenge," I add.

  "Hmm," he narrows his eyes at me. "The made men I've encountered in my time would rather die a painful death than betray the famiglia. Why should I trust you? This could very well be a trap."

  "I'm not seeking any retribution for Romina's death. I think that should be proof enough."

  He regards me silently for a moment.

  "Then I'll take you on your offer, kiddo. But know that the moment I feel that you might be playing me..." he lights a match, holding the fire in front of his face before lighting his cigar again, "it won't be you I'm going after," he lets the threat hanging. It won't be me; it will be Allegra.

  "I'd never play with her life," I assure him, and we start discussing business.

  "We'll have to do a seamless transition so your father doesn't realize what's happening under his nose." Jimenez comments, and we soon hash out a plan.

  Everything would be under the guise of a partnership with the Boston Irish mob. Jimenez has a big stake in their underground fighting rings and is very close with the Gallagher family. Given the ongoing conflict with Lastra, we'd be looking elsewhere for resources, which is when the Gallaghers would step in.

  They'd offer their services in exchange for using some of our locations as fighting arenas — thus bringing the underground rings to New York and setting up the groundwork for Jimenez's transition. When father least expects it, he'd be hit by betrayal from all sides, and all of his businesses would shift ownership to Jimenez. He would be helpless as he'd watch his life's work go to waste. I can only imagine his expression when he'll realize that it was his beloved son who put everything in motion and played him for so long.

  "Get Martin Ashby to invest. He's a greedy fool, and if the offer is appealing, he will be the first to dive in. Besides, he's on my naughty list," Jimenez chuckles and proceeds to tell me his tumultuous past with Martin, as well as the reasons he wants him dead — just not yet.

  "His time will come, obviously. But like you, I take my time with revenge."

  The most interesting bit of information has to be the identity of Theodore Hastings, the NYPD Chief Commissioner, and Jimenez's features morph immediately as he talks about him, his expression filled with pride.

  "He's my heir, but he's too set in his righteous ways. I need to give him a little push so he can take his rightful place when the time comes."

  "So you want me to blackmail him," I ash my cigarette as I try to understand what Jimenez's endgame is.

  "Yes, there's plenty on him. His previous identity as Adrian Barnett for one; or the real identity of his wife," Jimenez slides a folder towards me.

  "His wife?" I raise an eyebrow, opening the file to peruse its contents. It has detailed information on Bianca Ashby, also known as Artemis. "This is too rich," I laugh at the irony. "And he doesn't know he lives with an assassin?"

  Jimenez shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips.

  "I don't think my son would suspect if you were to throw it in his f
ace. That's how enamored he is of her. But because of that, it's all the incentive he'll need to come to the dark side."

  "I see," I reply.

  The Gallaghers would insinuate themselves into the Agosti business until they can steal it from under Rocco's nose. Then Jimenez would swoop in and take over the empire and father would see his life's work destroyed. He'll either die from a coronary, or I'll do the honors.

  "Now for the Marchesi," I start, and we plan a couple more years in advance.

  Funny how now I have all the time in the world.

  "PAPA, WHO'S THIS?" I look down at my four-year-old as he wiggles his eyebrows in confusion.

  "This is papa's friend, and she's very sick." I explain, feeling a pang of sadness at the fact that he doesn't recognize his own mother.

  As he'd grown, I'd stopped bringing him with me to visit Allegra, afraid he might tell someone about the woman who looks just like his mother.

  While Luca thinks Chiara is his mother, I'd tried to keep their interactions extremely short. Long enough so that Allegra won't be a stranger to him when she wakes up, but also short enough to avoid Chiara's bad attitude. It's even better that Chiara doesn't seem to have any interest in being a mother. In the last few years, she's become the center of New York social life. More often than not she's not even home, preferring to spend her time partying or fucking who knows who.

  Observing her behavior for so long, I'd realized that she suffers from multiple addictions — alcohol, sex, and cocaine. Add in a bad personality and you have a winning combination. The stories I'd heard about her had given me such a headache, mostly because when Allegra wakes up it will be her reputation she'd have ruined.

  But I can't do anything about it and still keep my act.

  And even that worries me. What will my little tigress think when she wakes up only to see numerous tabloid articles with me and different women? I dread the day I'll have to see the sadness on her face as I attempt to prove to her there's never been anyone else.

  Taking Luca in my arms, I grab a seat next to Allegra. Over the years her health had improved a little and now she's able to breathe on her own. Still, there's no guarantee when she's going to wake up.

  "Why is she sick?"

  "She had an accident and now she's sleeping." Luca nods at me, his gaze lingering on Allegra's form. There's absolutely no sign of recognition in his gaze. Not when Allegra looks so frail and so pale — completely different from the glamorous Chiara Luca is familiar with.

  I wish I could tell him that she is his real mother, that she loves him more than anything. But that would just confuse his little mind.

  Like any rambunctious toddler, Luca is getting increasingly restless, so I send him over to maman Margot, who's waiting outside. He jumps out of my arms, running to her. She nods to me that I can take my time, so I return my attention to Allegra.

  It's weird how the time passes. We're getting closer and closer to the five year mark and my little tigress is still sleeping.

  I take her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips.

  "Little tigress," I start, and the sight of her so helpless, so vulnerable, never fails to get to me, "I don't know if you can hear me. Or if you heard anything I said over the last few years. But I'm closer than ever to fulfill my promise to you. And when I'm done, the Agosti crime family will cease to exist." I swallow hard, a lump forming in my throat.

  "When you wake up, I promise I'll leave everything behind. Just... come back to me. I can wait forever for you, but the sooner you recover the better," I attempt a lighthearted joke.

  Bending over, I press my lips against hers in a brief kiss.

  "I love you," I whisper against her cheek before standing up to leave.

  "Papa, can I go to maman Margot's house? She has cookies!" Luca tackles me when I exit the room. I swoop him up in my arms, and I turn an eyebrow at maman.

  "Oh, come on, Enzo. One cookie can't hurt. I'll bring him over tomorrow, d'accord?"

  "Fine, you can go to maman's place." I relent, knowing I have some outstanding business to take care of.

  After I drop them at maman's, I go to Rocco's club for a meeting.

  The room is dark and full of cigarette smoke. On one couch, Rocco is deep in conversation with Matthew Gallagher. Pants around their ankles, they are definitely mixing business with pleasure. Two girls are on their knees in front of them, sucking them off, their fake moans echoing in the room.

  In the other corner, Martin Ashby is pumping in and out of Chiara, all the while barking some commands on the phone. I immediately avert my gaze. While I don't care who Chiara fucks, she's still Allegra's identical twin, and I don't want to have the image of my wife being taken from behind by any other man.

  Chiara and Martin's affair started soon after we invited him to join our business venture, and it's been going strong since. It might even border on monogamy, which is a first for Chiara.

  I move to the other corner of the room, where Quinn is sitting by himself, watching the others with hooded eyes.

  "Not joining?" I sit next to him, taking the bottle of whiskey from the table and pouring myself a glass. Lighting a cigar, I take a big swig, hoping dulled senses would help my eyes cope with the scene before me.

  "No," he downs his own glass, placing it on the table and shoving his hand towards me. "Married," he says, his Irish accent even thicker from the alcohol.

  "Doesn't stop us," I shrug, nursing my drink and putting on my best charm.

  "Then why don't you join?" He raises an eyebrow at me, motioning towards the stripper dancing on the pole, whose attention is currently on me.

  "I'm not into... exhibitionism," I answer. It is technically true, since I'd never allow another person to see my little tigress. She's for my eyes only.

  He grunts, turning his attention to the bottle of whiskey.

  "Weren't we supposed to talk about the next stage?" I ask, rather put off by the orgy in front of me. I'm sure they could have found any other time to fuck. Maybe I'm a little impatient, but my plan is too close to being finalized.

  We'd already set up two fighting arenas in Midtown, and both Rocco and Martin are still oblivious to the trap they're diving headfirst into. Soon they'll both end up broke and dead, the order debatable.

  "My daughter and her husband are coming tomorrow." Martins is the first to speak, switching positions so that Chiara's now blowing him. "We need to get them on board with this. Theodore's influence will help make sure the arenas have enough spectators but no police," he says, his voice fluctuating with Chiara's careful ministrations. I almost roll my eyes at this.

  The only relief is that Chiara's recently dyed her hair, so it's not exactly like Allegra's.

  "Piece of cake," my father says, pulling his dick out of the hooker's mouth and turning her around so he can have her ass. It's all a little offensive, really. I try not to show how disgusted I am, especially when he spits in his hand and palms his cock, shoving it into the hooker's ass with no preparation, or protection. The girl releases a pained whimper she pretends is of pleasure, but she makes no protests when Rocco starts fucking her ass raw.

  I don't even want to know what type of diseases they both have, since clearly my father isn't a big fan of condoms. At least Matthew wraps it up before fucking his hooker.

  "Did you really call me here to watch you fuck?" I ask eventually, annoyed that they're wasting my time and that we're not making any progress.

  "We can fuck and talk," my father winks and everyone starts laughing.

  Everyone but me and Quinn, who seems to have finished the whiskey bottle and is barely awake.

  "How are we going to get Hastings to comply," I ask Martin, trying to see what he has under his sleeve.

  "I'll use my daughter. She's his weakness." He smiles insidiously.

  Of course he'd throw his own daughter under the bus. In the time I've known Martin, I've come to realize why he was on Jimenez's naughty list. The bastard is a treacherous dog, wagging his tails to whoever pr
ofits him the most.

  He refrains from saying how exactly he'll use her, hoping to maintain some secrecy. I can hazard a guess as to what the big secret is — from her ties to the Russian Bratva to her kill count, I'd say there's plenty to blackmail them with.

  I almost groan out loud when I realize I'll have to pretend to flirt with her — as per Jimenez's instructions. In his own words, he wants his son truly cornered, and apparently some good ol' jealousy will do the trick. The only reassuring fact is that by all accounts, she's completely enamored her husband, so there's less chance of her taking me seriously.

  The following day, our goal is achieved, and Theodore Hastings is officially under our thumb. Now for the piece of resistance — the fall of an empire.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY know?" I lock myself in my office, careful to avoid any prying eyes or ears.

  "They somehow found my picture and put two and two together," Jimenez grunts, and I can tell he's not pleased at this turn of events.

  Soon after we'd taken a good chunk of Martin's fortune, Jimenez had decided that it was time to dispatch him. He'd chosen none other than my house to do it — the very office I'm standing in.

  Now, Jimenez, for all his willingness to share information, hadn't told me one tiny detail. The person who killed Martin was someone Theodore Hastings knew from his time as Adrian Barnett.

  In the spirit of cordial cooperation, I'd sent Hastings and his wife the footage from that night, sure they wouldn't find anything suspicious that might link the killer to Jimenez.

  Well, they had.

  And so a witch hunt had begun for Jimenez. Only we didn't think it would get this far.

  Years ago, in his attempt to get close to his eldest son, Jimenez had borrowed the identity of Matthew's deceased brother — Andrew Gallagher. And so for years he'd coached his own son in underground to-the-death fighting, trying to create the perfect killing machine.