Page 50 of Morally Corrupt

Before I fall asleep, I text Marcel to call off Rico. I will just have to trust my wife.

17

BIANCA

"I think I managed to convince him about the hotel," I say over the phone to Vlad.

"I'm curious, what did you come up with?" he asks with a chuckle.

"That I got rained on by pigeon poop and had to take a shower before a meeting?"

"B!" Vlad groans aloud. "Tell me you didn't actually say that?"

"Well…" I bite my nails. "It was along those lines."

"And he actually believed you? I stand corrected, your husband is a wimp."

"Hey! I told you to stop insulting him. I can assure you he is not a wimp."

"Only a wimp would buy that shit because he's afraid to accept the truth. I really don't know why you're so obsessed with the guy."

"If you knew him, you'd be obsessed with him too," I retort, because honestly, in my mind, everyone should be obsessed with Theo.

He is just that special.

"Sorry, B, I don't swing that way."

"You don't swing either way, do you?"

"B, don't let out all my secrets, malyshka. I need a little mystery. I'll also have you know that leading the Bratva is hard, and my Tinder dates would take offense to me showing up with blood residue on my sleeves after a bout of torture," he whines, and I can already imagine his face.

Truth is, I'd never seen Vlad with a woman, a man, or any other individual. I don't know whether it's his maniacal side that drives them off or merely his disinterest.

But then again, Vlad's never shown any type of feelings other than loyalty. Even his sense of humor is a mask that he started using to avoid scaring people off. It was also why I was the only one who could be partnered up with him, anyone else being too terrified of him.

He'd fought against it at first, saying he didn't need a partner, especially a little girl, but his father had known that he required someone to keep his blood lust in check.

The thing about Vlad is… he seems affable and normal until something sets him off. Then God help anyone in his path. Supposedly, at fifteen, he'd single-handedly offed an entire gang in Harlem, only with his shashkas, and it had taken a sedative to calm him down.

"I've heard some chicks dig the whole blood and gore thing."

"They do only if I'm a sparkling vampire. I keep up with the times, you know. They'd run for the hills if they knew my body count."

"What's your body count?" I ask cheekily.

"I don't kill and tell, B."

"You've probably lost count."

"Yeah… I'm going to plead the fifth on that."

"What kind of assassin are you if you don't have any notches?"

He pauses as if it's a foreign concept. "Do you?"

"Of course. I'm very organized. I would also like to know how many times to ask for forgiveness if Theo finds out."

"Damn, little goddess. Seriously, what did you see in that wimp? You got a suit of all things. Couldn't you at least have gone for a more hands-on profession?"

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