Unholy Union

by Raines, Rumer

  “Did you hear my question?” she asks.

  “Sorry, I guess I didn’t. What was the question?”

  “I was asking how you feel about getting married again?”

  “What?”

  “The first time wasn’t real, and we have been together for quite a while, Matteo.”

  Where the hell is this coming from? How can she think I would want to get married again? “You never mentioned marriage before?”

  “That was before, this is now,” she replies.

  “I have no use for marriage.”

  Her eyes narrow. Obviously, she doesn’t like my answer.

  “Matteo, I would like for us to get married. It’s time for you to make an honest woman out of me.”

  I choke back the last of my drink and almost laugh at her. This bitch is crazy. “Make an honest woman out of you?” I laugh.

  Sarah crosses her arms and quickly stands. I watch as she starts to pace in front of my desk.

  Why is my first thought to grab my gun? I can kill her and put us both out our misery.

  “I’ll give you more time to think about it,” she says then turns to leave.

  I watch as she walks out. It was nice of her to give me more time to consider, but I don’t need it. I will never get married again. In my small, cold heart, I am still married. A few hours later, I am in my normal spot, watching Isabella’s condo. My fist clenches as it remains empty. Where the hell is she? Who is she with? My head falls onto the headrest as I try to control the anger that is quickly building. I grab my phone and make one call.

  “Find her. I want to know what she is doing and who she is doing it with,” I demand.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if she is with another man. She is mine, whether we are still married or not. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. We still are. ‘Til death do us part. Don’t the vows mean anything to people today? Slamming my fist against the steering wheel, I drive away… pissed.

  Does it ever feel like the weather reflects your mood? The dark sky and stormy weather perfectly match the mood I have been in the past three days. It’s the middle of the day, and I have to drive with my headlights on. I didn’t want to get out of bed.

  The only thing I can think about is Isabella. Shoving open the door, I notice him the minute I walk inside. Brutus follows me to my office, and I pull off my jacket and wait for him to talk.

  “I have the information you requested boss.” He groans.

  I take a deep breath and wait for him to break the news to me. I won’t be surprised if he tells me there is someone else. I have sat in front of her place for two nights, and she hasn’t been home. I couldn’t go back the third night. I would have been a safety hazard to the city if I had.

  “What has she been up to?” I ask. He tenses, and I realize this isn’t going to be good.

  “Can you pass me your gun?”

  “Why?”

  “I just would prefer to hold it until I am done talking.”

  I chuckle and reluctantly pass him my revolver. “Talk.”

  He inhales and steps away from me. “She has been spending time with Nikoli.”

  My heart starts to race and constrict at the same time. The room suddenly goes black, and I reach for my gun. Fuck. He has it. Why the hell did I give it to him? I should have known when he asked for it, not to give it to him.

  Tossing everything off my desk, I walk over and punch a hole into the wall.

  “WHAT. THE. FUCK!” I yell.

  “Calm down, boss!” Brutus warns.

  I take two steps in his direction, and he balls up his fist, prepared to fight me. I manage to stop myself and pull my own beard instead. What the fuck is she doing with him? I warned her about him. What the hell is she thinking? I have to talk to her… now.

  Grabbing my jacket, I walk past Brutus and head straight to my car. I ignore everyone that attempts to talk to me. Pulling into traffic, I don’t stop until I pull into the parking garage. I don’t want to hear anyone’s shit either. I will buy this company and sell it off in pieces after firing anyone that tries to refuse me.

  The receptionist stares at me over her red-rimmed glasses like she realizes I don’t belong there. I have always been told to respect my elders, but Grandma will hear some very foul language.

  “I’m here to see Isabella.”

  I don’t even recognize my own voice. It’s gravelly and yet I hear a little fear. Don’t let her say no. I will fucking snap. What if she really is with Nikoli? The receptionist asks me to take a seat and she’ll find out if Isabella is available. I can barely squeeze into the little plastic office chair as I watch her whisper in the phone and glance at me with suspicion. When Isabella finally walks out of the elevator, her eyes narrow when they meet mine. She slowly approaches me, and I can see her hesitation. I can almost see the guilt written all over her beautiful, semi-innocent face.

  “Matteo? What are you doing here?” She glances around the lobby. What the hell is she looking for? Is she embarrassed to be seen with me?

  “We need to talk.”

  “About?” she whispers.

  “I think we need to talk privately.”

  She nods, and I follow her as I watch her perfectly round ass swaying toward her office. The plain white wall and cheap furniture aren’t good enough for her; she deserves better. She doesn’t even pretend that she is going to sit. She stands at the door and waits for me to start talking. My sweet ex-wife doesn’t realize it’s going to be harder than that to get rid of me. Speaking of hard, I immediately get hard just from being in the same space as her.

  “What did you want, Matteo?”

  She doesn’t even look at me. Her eyes look past me to the empty wall, and it hurts. What do I say to her? I didn’t plan this shit out on the way here. I don’t think I can just come out and ask her, can I? She’ll probably tell me it’s none of my business. On one hand, she is right, but on the other, she is dead wrong.

  “Matteo? I have a lot of work to do.”

  “How have you been doing?” I choke out.

  Her eyes narrow and she realizes that I am up to something. “You didn’t come here just to ask how I’m doing, Matteo.”

  Damn, she looks sexy in her black silk blouse and grey skirt. Her hair is pulled into a tight bun, and I just want to wrap my fist in her hair and bend her over this flimsy desk. She clears her throat, and I have to shake off my dirty thoughts.

  “You’re right, I didn’t. I am worried about you, babe…” I stop myself. “I am worried about you, Isabella.”

  “Why are you worried about me?”

  “I was informed that you are spending time with people who don’t have your best interest in mind.”

  She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes start to slowly narrow. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Have you ever been asked a question that feels like a set-up? How do I answer that without her getting angry?

  “I think you know what I am saying,” I finally answer.

  “You bastard! Have you been following me?”

  “Why do you think I have been following you?” I ask.

  Hey… the best way to get out of answering a question is by asking one, right?

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Matteo. You obviously know that I am dating Nikoli. What I do is none of your damn business. We are no longer in that fake ass marriage, and you got everything you wanted,” she whisper-yells.

  “If you are involved with Nikoli, it is my business. You can’t trust him! He will get you killed, Isabella, and I am willing to bet he doesn’t have your best interest in mind.”

  She laughs and looks at me in disgust. “As if you ever had my best interest in mind either.”

  Damn… that comment had to hurt more than being shot. I did have her best interest in mind. If I didn’t, I would still be with her.

  “Isabella,” I whisper.

  She holds up her hand, effectively letting me know to shut the hell up. She is done with me. Opening the door, she nods h
er head toward it for me to leave. I have hurt her enough, so I do exactly as she asks.

  Isabella

  He was the last person I expected to see waiting for me. Why does he want to talk? He got everything he wanted when he married and divorced me. I didn’t even take the settlement he offered. I left the marriage with what I came into it with. I guess that isn’t totally true… I left a piece of my heart.

  Now that I am finally moving on, he shows up? I agree to talk to him, not that I have a choice. I have a feeling he isn’t going to leave without getting his way. Does Matteo Stone ever hear the word no? I can feel his eyes on my ass as he follows me to this coat closet of an office. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for my office. It just feels ten times smaller with him in it.

  “How have you been doing?” he asks.

  Is he kidding me right now? I don’t believe for one second he came to ask me that. It suddenly hits me what this is all about. He found out about Nikoli. I should have known it would get back to him. Nikoli warned me that it would. I want to slap the hell out of Matteo when he says Nikoli doesn’t have my best interest in mind. This from the man who forced me into a marriage while he screwed his girlfriend?

  I give him three minutes longer than I want and soon show him the way out. He stalls, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time I see him. The worst part is I don’t want it to be the last.

  Matteo’s aftershave drifts in my office, making it impossible for me to work. Turning off my computer, I head out and wave to the receptionist as she puts on her plaid blazer. She is such a nice lady; too bad Matteo had her frazzled earlier.

  The last person I need to think about now is Matteo, especially since I have a date with Nikoli. We have officially been dating a few weeks now. Nikoli and Matteo are like day and night. Matteo was fancy restaurants, plays, wine, and midnight treats. Nikoli is more bottled beer and night clubs. Despite the difference, I have to remember that Matteo was all about impressing me so I’d marry him. Nikoli is more about fun, and I don’t have to worry about him tricking me into marriage.

  He came at the perfect time. I think he was an answer to a prayer.

  I have been helping out at the church three times a week. I pull into my usual spot and notice a few extra cars in the parking lot. When I enter the church, I hear shuffling and rush to the office where the noise is coming from. The door is locked, so I knock and ask if everything is all right.

  “Everything is fine!” Pastor Platt hollers through the door.

  “Are you sure, Pastor?”

  A few seconds later, the door is pulled open and the back-office door is slowly closing behind him. I glance at Pastor Platt, noticing his tie is twisted and he looks flushed. There are papers on the floor, and one of the chairs has been knocked over.

  “Are you sure everything is good?”

  “Everything is fine, Isabella. I don’t think I need your assistance today. How about you take the night off?”

  He gives me a small nod as he gently squeezes my arm. I don’t know what was going on in this office, but I suppose there can be secrets in the church, too. Making sure that the parking lot is safe, I head to my car. I lock my car door and decide to make a quick call. I hope he isn’t busy. This is spur of the moment.

  “How about dinner?”

  “Isabella, I thought you were helping out at the church tonight?” Nikoli questions.

  “Plans changed. Pastor Platt doesn’t need me today. I thought maybe I could pick up dinner and stop by your place.”

  “My place? I haven’t cleaned all week. How about I come over?”

  “I couldn’t care less about how tidy you are, Nikoli. I really want to see where you live,” I nearly beg.

  The silence is deafening, and I start to wonder if I pushed him too far. Is it wrong for me to want to find out where he lives? He always has a reason why we should meet at my place instead of his.

  “Isabella,” he whispers.

  “You know what, I actually think I could use the rest. How about I call you tomorrow?” I reply and quickly hang up. Laying my head on the headrest, I almost don’t notice the black suburban that pulls behind my car and stops.

  What the hell is that about?

  Have you ever felt like you were being followed? I have watched enough police chases to realize that you have to switch lanes and cut in and out of alleys if you want to lose someone. The problem is I am not sure if I am actually being followed or if it’s just my own paranoia. This has to be because of Pastor Platt, the shuffle I heard in his office, and the strange Suburban, right? Who the hell would be following me? The answer hits me like a slap across the face.

  His number is on speed dial for no other reason but to torture me.

  “Stop…”

  “Isabella? Stop what?” Matteo answers.

  “I know you’re having me followed, Matteo.”

  “Isabella, where are you?”

  “Oh, please... As if you don’t know,” I reply.

  “Isabella, I don’t have anyone following you. I will send someone to you.” He sounds concerned.

  I hit the gas and pull into a nearby alley, cutting off several cars. I wait a few seconds to see if anyone pulls in behind me. Holding my breath… I wait. Closing my eyes and hearing Matteo’s frantic voice on the phone, I realize that I have lost my damn mind.

  “Can you please forget I called you? I pulled into an alley, and there isn’t anyone following me,” I whisper.

  “Fuck. You thought someone was following you, and you decide to pull into a damn alley?”

  “I should go, Matteo. I am on my way to a date,” I lie before I end the call.

  Can someone please tell me why I feel the need to lie to him? Instead of going home, I visit Simone. She has been fighting with Jake lately and has been anti-man. I vent to her about Nikoli and casually mention Matteo coming to the office today. Unfortunately, that is where the conversation goes from zero to one hundred with her. I listen as she reminds me of the hell that Matteo put me through and how I should call security if he ever shows up again.

  Here is the question… Do I want him to show up again? There is a small part of me that does. Matteo Stone will always feel like my husband.

  Matteo

  “I swear to you, boss, we haven’t followed her for weeks!” Brutus promises.

  I called him into my office the second Isabella hung up. I know I told him to stop following her, but she was insistent that she is being trailed. She tried to blow it off, but I know better than that. Your gut feeling should always be trusted. If she thinks she is being followed, she is being followed.

  Who the hell could be following her? I knew shit would blow up if she got involved with Nikoli. I am not naïve enough to believe that she would never be with another man after our divorce, but him? Nikoli is the fucking devil on earth. He has no morals, and if I am saying that, you know he’s bad news.

  “Do you need me for anything else?” Brutus asks.

  The office suddenly feels cold and sterile as he towers over my cherry wood desk.

  Pinching my bottom lip, I realize I can’t just move on and let this rest. I nod and tell him that I want him to put eyes on her. She is to be watched every second until I tell them to stop. Brutus grunts and walks out of my office. The minute he walks out, Sarah walks in. She has still been all over my ass about getting married. She slides onto the brown leather sofa that is sitting against the white wall. I can’t help but notice the tight red dress that she is wearing that shows off her cleavage. She is dressed like a woman on a mission with her red lips and tousled blonde hair. If Nikoli is the devil on earth, she is his sister.

  “Did you need something?” I ask. I don’t know if this will be about marriage or if she just wants to be fucked.

  “You know what I need, Matteo. I need you and me to make this relationship legal. I have been by your side through a whole lot of shit and think it’s my time to be rewarded. Don’t you think I deserve that?”

  This bi
tch just dangled the carrot along with issuing a threat. She has been by my side for a lot of shit. Unfortunately, she also realizes it was all illegal shit. I think the temperature in the office suddenly drops.

  I slowly walk toward her and sit next to her, pulling her into my lap. She moans as she sits perfectly on my thickening bulge. “You are right. You do need to be rewarded.” Pushing my hand under her dress, I push her panties aside and slide two fingers inside of her. I watch as her head falls back, and she quickly unbuckles my pants and lifts so she can shove down my pants. I stare into her eyes as she rides me, all while I think about Isabella. I am a sick, disturbed bastard.

  With every hard bounce, I wonder what is Isabella doing. Has she done this with him? I stare into Sarah’s cold eyes and pretend I am staring into Isabella’s warm, dark eyes. I lose myself inside of Sarah while thinking about my wife.

  When I finally release myself, Sarah slides off my lap and adjusts her panties and dress. Her eyes are distant as she stares at me. Pulling up my pants, I rest my head against the cold leather and stare at the ceiling. How much longer can I keep this up? I got everything I wanted, but I feel so empty. Maybe I need to go visit my father and Paolo? They are family and won’t hold anything back when it comes to the truth. I will never get it out of the people that work for me.

  The next morning, I book the first flight out of Chicago. Paolo and my father are surprised to find me standing at the door. Paolo has still been flying here every other week to be with my father. I have to admit he is a great doctor. Despite what I wanted, Paolo started doing these experimental treatments on him, and Dad has been doing better. He is getting stronger, gaining weight, and his speech is much better. It is hard to believe that he was so close to death when he was in Chicago. I believe that getting rid of the business was the best form of medicine he received. When the old bastard signed over the company, I swear I saw a small smile. I assumed I saw wrong, but now, I am starting to wonder.