Unholy Union

by Raines, Rumer

  I’ll need to get married immediately. I hope Isabella understands that I don’t want to wait months to get this done. I wonder if she is open to going to the courthouse.

  After a long day going over financial statements and business assets, I realize that we have to talk. I am so nervous as I drive to her apartment. I wonder how she’ll react to seeing me. I can’t worry about that shit. She is officially my fiancé. She’ll have to get used to seeing me.

  My heart races as I stand outside her apartment. Why am I afraid to knock on the damn door? I wipe the sweat from my brow and remind myself that I am Matteo Stone. I can do this. She opens the door, and I can see the disgust on her face.

  There is a long, brittle silence as she stares at me. I start to think she isn’t going to invite me in. Maybe I should have brought flowers? According to Paolo, women like that kind of shit.

  “What do you want?” she asks.

  “I thought we could talk.”

  Biting her lip, she looks away. “Is it okay for us to talk, or should Sarah be here to pass messages?” she replies.

  I stare at her, baffled. What exactly did Sarah say to her? “I think, if we’re getting married, it will be a requirement for us to talk.” I falter in the silence that engulfs us. “We are getting married, aren’t we?” I ask.

  “I don’t think I have any other options, do I?”

  I can feel the chill in the air. I am also starting to worry that she isn’t going to let me in. I also don’t know what she is referring to, but I don’t have time to figure it out. I have my own issues to deal with, and right now, they are my priority.

  I would hate to think Sarah threatened her into this marriage, but if it ends with me married and running the family business, I couldn’t care less.

  “Isabella… are you going to let me in or are we going to do this in the hallway?”

  She finally allows me to come in. I notice that she keeps her distance as she stares at me with cold eyes. She sits in the chair, her thin fingers tensed in her lap. She feels so close but so far away. I want to touch her so bad, but I can’t. Awkwardly, she clears her throat.

  “What did you want to talk about?” she mutters uneasily.

  I hesitate, measuring her for a moment. “I was hoping we can agree on the wedding date.”

  She turns away, wearied by indecision. “I will need a few months to plan the wedding. I have to find a dress, send invitations, and find a place.” Nervously, she bites her lip.

  If only I could bite that lip. “We don’t need all those things, Isabella. I was hoping we could just go to a courthouse. We actually have a family friend who is a judge that can marry us tomorrow night.”

  She gives an anxious little cough. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Yes. This needs to happen immediately. I don’t know how long my father has.” I give her a narrowed glance. I hope she doesn’t back out of the deal. I don’t want to come on too strong, but I don’t have time for her to plan a fairytale wedding. We’re not getting married for life. She can save her fairytale for her next wedding.

  “Isabella? Are you free tomorrow night?” I ask.

  “I guess I have to be,” she whispers.

  I advise her that a car will pick her up tomorrow night. She nods, and when I tell her that I must leave, I can see the relief on her face. On the drive home, I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The innocent, beautiful woman that I used to know felt different tonight.

  Her eyes were cold. I could feel the barrier that she was putting between the two of us. I know I don’t deserve anything more than what she is giving me, but I don’t like it. She didn’t even fight me on having a real wedding. The Isabella I know would have put a little fight. She would have insisted that, if she does this, I need to meet her halfway. I guess the only important thing is that, tomorrow night, she will officially be Mrs. Matteo Stone. I will be a married man. Tonight, I am still single and will crawl into bed with Sarah.

  We fuck like two caged animals while I think about Isabella. How will this work with Sarah when I am married to another woman? I’ve never considered being married, but I don’t know if I can cheat on my wife. How will Sarah react to this? As heartless as my father is, I know he was loyal to my mother. I think I would have killed him if I found out otherwise. He treated her like a queen. He raised me to respect her and love her like she was the most precious woman on earth. How can I not give my wife the same treatment? The minute I put the ring on Isabella’s finger, my world will change. I wonder if Sarah realizes that her world will change, too.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “I was just thinking about tomorrow night. I can’t believe I am getting married.”

  “It’s just a piece of paper, Matteo. Nothing will change between us. You belong to me. You always will.” She spits out the words contemptuously.

  At one time, I would have agreed with her statement. Tonight, I am not so sure. I have a feeling that everything will change, but I just don’t understand why.

  Isabella

  My entire world is about to change. I am getting married in a few hours and still haven’t told anyone about my upcoming nuptials. I don’t know how to explain it to them. My parents and friends all know I have dreamed of getting married.

  I have shared with them the kind of dress I would wear. I know the wedding planner I wanted to hire. I know the church that I wanted to get married in. My father was going to walk me down the aisle. My best friend would be my matron of honor. The minute I say the word “courthouse,” they will smell trouble.

  Unable to make up any story that they will believe would cause me to get married in the exact place criminals are charged for their crimes has me fidgeting. I have heard of shotgun weddings, and I feel like that is what I am having. Normally, the guy has got some girl pregnant, and they are forced into marriage. Who would have thought it would be the girl getting forced into it?

  I went to lunch with the wrong couple, and now I am being blackmailed into marriage. I don’t know how Sarah managed to steal money from the bank and place the blame on me. What I do know is I don’t have fifty-thousand dollars to hand over. Sarah promises it will be paid back once I marry Matteo. What kind of woman would let her man get involved with someone else? I now understand why she was so pissed when she saw us together.

  Six o’clock gets here too early, and the car arrives to pick me up. I climb into the back seat wearing a simple white dress that I already own. It was either this one or the black one. I suppose it would have been more fitting, but I don’t know how Matteo would have reacted. I’m sure as hell not buying something new just to wear to the damn courthouse.

  The car is so quiet, I hear my watch ticking. I can’t believe I am about to get married. Is there any way I can get out of this? How bad can prison really be? I think they have a library and a gym. We stop in front of the courthouse, and the driver opens my door. Why didn’t I jump out of the car when I had the chance?

  My legs feel weak as I walk up the stairs. Pulling open the heavy metal door, I see Matteo, Paolo, Sarah, and another man huddled together. The guys are all wearing tuxes, and Matteo is wearing the yellow bow tie that he had on for our first fake date. Sarah is wearing a short red party dress that perfectly matches her red lipstick. I merely stare, tongue-tied as Matteo quickly makes his way over to me.

  “You look beautiful,” he whispers.

  I look at him with surprise, remembering that I am being forced into this marriage. I won’t allow myself to fall for his bullshit. He puts his hand on my lower back and walks me over to the little group.

  “I think you remember Paolo and Sarah. This is Halstead, my lawyer.” My mouth drops open when he advises that he brought his damn lawyer. “I’ll need you to sign some paperwork before we get married,” Matteo informs me.

  “What kind of paperwork?”

  “Obviously, I’ll inherit a lot of money after we’re married, Isabella. I need you to sign a prenup indicating that you aren’t entitl
ed to any of it.”

  I lift my chin, meeting his icy gaze straight on. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I swallow hard and boldly meet his gaze. I am being blackmailed into getting married and he wants to protect himself?

  “Isabella? Do we need to talk in private?” he asks.

  “No, I’ll sign your damn prenup.”

  Halstead reads over the important parts of the prenup, and I sign. I practically throw the pen at him when I am done. My eyes meet Sarah and a concerned Paolo.

  “Are we ready to get you two married?” Sarah asks.

  “I have to go to the ladies’ room.” I rush to the bathroom and pray I don’t vomit before I get inside. Tossing cold water on my face, I don’t look when I hear someone enter.

  “You sure as hell better not be getting cold feet,” she threatens.

  “I am in no mood for you, Sarah.”

  “You better get in the mood. Once you get married to Matteo, you’ll be seeing plenty of me.”

  “When are you paying the bank? It has to be paid back before the end of the month.”

  “You get married, and I’ll pay it back before the police come to take you away,” she teases.

  How can Matteo spend time with this bitch? How could I ever have cared for a man that would spend time with a woman like this? I suppose, at this point, I don’t even know if I dated the “real” Matteo. It was all just a game to him. I was only a game. I was the ticket to his inheritance and precious family business.

  “Take this, you’ll need it.”

  I halt, shocked when Sarah places a gold band in my hand. She looks me over in disgust and turns to leave. I take a quick sharp breath as I prepare myself to walk out of the ladies’ room to get married. Several minutes later, we stand in front of the hired judge. I listen with bewilderment as we are pronounced “Husband and Wife.” I am married to Matteo Stone.

  I didn’t notice the group of reporters standing in the back. The flashing lights very quickly clue me in. I feel the screams of frustration at the back of my throat as they snap pictures. A gamut of perplexing emotions rushes through me when I realize how my parents and friends will find out about this marriage. They will all be so hurt that I didn’t tell them. They will be even more hurt that they weren’t invited.

  “I’ve had your things moved to my house,” Matteo advises.

  My mind refuses to register the significance of his words as I sign the marriage license. “What do you mean, my things have been moved to your house?” I mask my inner turmoil with deceptive calmness. He is expecting us to live together?

  “I arranged for movers to bring your belongings to my house. Of course, some things had to go into storage.”

  “You had no right to do that!” I yell.

  “Isabella, we are married. You didn’t think you would be able to go back to your apartment, did you? Until I take over the business, this marriage has to look real. My father’s lawyer will be sniffing around like a fucking bloodhound.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I whisper.

  “I realize that you are giving up a lot to help me. I really appreciate it.”

  I fight to control my swirling emotions. “Is there anything else you want to take from me?” I ask.

  His brows flicker a little. “There is one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll need to quit your job. It will look suspicious if Matteo Stone’s wife has a job. It’ll also be dangerous once the news hit.”

  I press my lips together in anger. Is he kidding? “You want me to quit my job?”

  He nods.

  “You want me to quick the job that you had me fired from?”

  His eyes slightly narrow.

  “What do you mean, I had you fired from your job?” he questions, his eyes narrowed.

  “Hello… it’s the reason I agreed to go through with this!”

  His mouth is tight and grim.

  “There you two are!” Sarah approaches.

  “Not now, Sarah.” Matteo tries to wave her off.

  “Yes, now. Paolo suggested that we all go out for dinner to celebrate.”

  I don’t know why he looks surprised and even a little disgusted. He got his way, and I doubt he has one ounce of regret. He grabs my arm as I walk behind Sarah.

  “We are not done talking about this,” he whispers.

  Matteo

  If looks could kill, I would die a slow, painful death. Isabella is staring at me like she is plotting my murder. It doesn’t help that Paolo insists on having a post-wedding dinner. Sarah insists on coming along and sits next to me while Isabella sits across from me next to Paolo.

  He smirks as Isabella’s knife hits the plate in anger. I hate that she is being forced into this, but hopefully, once I deliver the marriage license to the lawyer, we can end it just as fast.

  “I’m glad that we are getting fast service. I bet the two of you can’t wait to start your wedding night.” Paolo laughs.

  Sarah sighs and clutches my leg under the table. “They will have plenty of time to be alone,” she states.

  “I realize that. It is a special night for them.”

  “It’s really not that special, Paolo,” she spits.

  “How can you say that? Matteo and Isabella just promised to love each other forever. It’s a bond that no one will be able to take away,” Paolo teases.

  Sarah is getting angrier while Paolo antagonizes her. I watch as Isabella ignores them. When she notices me looking at her, she stabs her steak. Her eyes move to the glass of water, and I slide it in her direction. She is careful not to let her fingers touch mine.

  “How does it feel to be Mrs. Matteo Stone?” Paolo asks.

  She manages a tremulous smile. “It feels like bad cramps.”

  We all look at her, confused.

  “It hurts like hell, but you realize there is a benefit to it,” she adds.

  Paolo laughs while Sarah shoots her a twisted smile. My mouth spreads into a thin-lipped smile. Isabella Stone will realize what benefits I have to offer her. She will apologize for that comment. She will be screaming her apology before the night is over. We are married, and it would be silly not to take advantage of the perks. Is that wrong of me to think so?

  Paolo offers to take Sarah home after dinner. She protests that she can get home on her own, but I suggest that she leave with Paolo. I need time alone with Isabella… my wife. Sarah doesn’t like it one bit that she has to leave me alone with Isabella. When I finally convince her to leave, my eyes meet the cold eyes of my new wife.

  “Are you ready to head home?” I ask.

  She keeps her expression under stern restraint. “If I have to be,” she whispers.

  She doesn’t look at me on the way home. We sit across from each other in the limo, and she stares out the window. She raises her eyes once to find me watching her. Quickly, she looks away. My eyes finally catch and held hers. I can see the hurt and distrust she has for me. At one time, I think she cared for me.

  Now, all I see is disgust. Why did I expect to see anything different?

  “I think we should visit the family attorney tomorrow morning.”

  She watches me with a critical squint but doesn’t say a word.

  “I want this to benefit you, too, Isabella. You can live the life you only imagined,” I offer.

  Her eyes widen in alarm.

  “I can give you money, and you can go shopping tomorrow or go to the spa after we see the attorney.”

  A sudden, icy contempt flashes in her eyes.

  “You mentioned that you don’t work at the bank anymore. Why do you think I had anything to do with it?” I ask.

  Her eyes grow large and liquid. “Fuck you.” Her voice is fragile and shaking.

  “All you have to do is ask.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she looks away from me. She doesn’t look at me again until we are home. Isabella refuses to take my hand as she exits the limo. The driver looks away, and I can see the smirk on his face. I won’t even try
to carry her over the threshold. I push the door open, and she reluctantly walks in. She glances around the house as if she has never been here before.

  “Isabella… I haven’t redecorated.”

  “I realize that. It feels different being here,” she says quietly.

  “How does it feel different?”

  “When I was here before, it was because I wanted to be. It feels like a prison this time,” she mutters.

  It hurts to hear her say that. Damn… get a grip, Stone.

  “Where should I sleep?” Her words are as cool and clear as ice water.

  “I have four bedrooms. You can pick one.”

  “Are they all upstairs?” she asks.

  “No. There is a small bedroom down here.”

  “I’ll take that one,” she replies.

  I shouldn’t be surprised that she selects the bedroom farthest from me. I had all her clothes moved into my room, so she goes into my room to find something to wear. She walks past me clutching an arm full of clothes.

  “Goodnight,” I whisper as she walks past.

  She doesn’t even say it back as she slams the bedroom door shut. I never would have imagined that I would spend my wedding night giving myself a hand job. If I had known Isabella was going to act like this, I would have had Sarah come over. It is a man’s right to get laid on his wedding night. I know this is all a business arrangement, but we are legally married. I have fucked out of wedlock, and now I am married and get nothing?

  I don’t get any sleep, staring at the clock for most of the night. She is downstairs in bed. I want to crawl under the covers with her. It is taking every ounce of willpower not to go to her and fuck out that apology. I am staring at the clock the minute it changes to seven. I can’t lie here any longer. I take a long, cold shower and get dressed. Isabella is already dressed and watching the news. She glances at me and looks back at the television.

  “You’re up early.”

  “I didn’t know how early you wanted to see the attorney.” There is bitter cynicism in her voice.

  “Did you have breakfast?” I ask.