Unholy Union: Unholy Union Duet Book 1

by Knight, Natasha

  I climb out, then offer to help Cristina, but she refuses my hand. She slides out of the SUV herself.

  I shake Harry’s hand in greeting and ask about his family before introducing Cristina.

  “Ms. Valentina will be my guest while I’m here.”

  He greets her.

  “Has Dr. Davidson arrived?” I ask him.

  “Yes, sir,” he says. “Waiting upstairs.”

  “Good. Let’s go in,” I tell Cristina, setting a hand on her lower back to guide her inside.

  I’m going to be late to deal with the Clementi situation, but they can wait. I have a feeling Cristina is not going to be so compliant when she understands what happens next.

  By the time we cross the luxurious lobby, the elevator doors open, and I gesture for her to enter. I follow her in, and we ride up with Cash, the soldier who will remain behind with Cristina.

  A few moments later, we step off the elevator on the twenty-fourth floor and enter the penthouse. I can see that Cristina is impressed even though she tries not to show it. Although she has been raised with money, this is another level of wealth.

  Dr. Davidson turns from the glass wall that overlooks the city and smiles.

  “Doctor, thank you for coming on short notice,” I say.

  “It’s no trouble, Damian,” he says as we shake hands. “How is your father? Not well enough to travel?”

  “He wasn’t invited,” I say, and I see that he’s not sure how to take that for a moment. But then I smile, and he laughs a little awkwardly. “This is Cristina Valentina. Cristina, this is Dr. Davidson.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Valentina.”

  Cristina’s confused gaze searches mine. “Um, nice to meet you.”

  “This should be pretty straightforward,” Dr. Davidson says. “If you can show me which room we can use.”

  “Cash, can you show Dr. Davidson to the master bedroom?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s going on?” Cristina asks as she watches the two disappear.

  I wait until the others are out of earshot to tell her, knowing she’s going to give me a hard time.

  Once we’re alone, I reach into my pocket to take out a syringe. “I brought one of these.”

  I know she recognizes it because she backs away instantly. “What’s going on? What’s that for?”

  “I’m hoping not to have to use it,” I say, tucking it back into my pocket and matching her steps as she backs herself into a corner.

  “What do you want, Damian?”

  “This is the thing I told you last night that we have to take care of.”

  Her breathing has picked up and she has her hands up against my chest to ward me off.

  “What thing?”

  “I need to be sure you’re clean.”

  “What? What does that even mean?” It takes her all of two seconds to put it together, so she raises her eyebrows and stares at me. “Like sexually?”

  “Dr. Davidson will run some tests.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Just to be sure. I took some measures—”

  “So, you think I’ll just go in there and spread my legs for that man so you two can be sure I’m clean?”

  “He’s a doctor.”

  “No way. I am not doing it.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, Damian. Period.”

  “I have a meeting to get to. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way? Easy way is you walking in there and letting the doctor do what he needs to do, hard being I carry you in unconscious.”

  “How about this, I’ll make it even easier. I’m not sleeping with you! I will never sleep with you! So send the doctor home and go to your meeting and leave me alone.”

  “Never say never, don’t you know that?” She scoots under my arm, but I catch her wrist before she can get away. “Besides, I think you will sleep with me. I think you can’t wait.”

  “You’re delusional. Let go of me!”

  I gather her arms behind her back and grip both wrists in one of my hands. I weave my fingers into the hair at the back of her head and encourage her to look up at me.

  “I don’t want to give you the sedative.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Then walk in there and do as the doctor says.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not a request.”

  I tuck one hand into my pocket and take out the syringe.

  “Please, Damian! Don’t make me do this. I won’t forgive you.”

  I uncap it with my teeth and toss the lid. “Last chance.”

  “I’m clean. I’m…oh my god.” She twists and turns. “Let me go.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know!”

  “Have you been tested recently?”

  She snaps her gaze to mine, eyes filled with hate. “No, I haven’t been tested recently. Maybe you should be the one who’s tested because you’ve probably slept with more women than I can count on my fingers and toes together.”

  “That’s irrelevant. I’m clean.”

  “So am I!”

  “Don’t make this hard. I don’t want to use the needle.”

  “Then don’t!”

  “Cristina—”

  “God. I can’t believe…I’m a virgin, you fucking bastard! I’ve never had sex before!”

  I stop because I guess even considering the requirements as she grew up, I knew it wasn’t realistic especially after seeing her birth control pills. Last night I was messing with her. I didn’t really believe that she’d be a virgin.

  “Satisfied?” she asks.

  I’m confused.

  “You’re hurting me. You already left bruises on my jaw. Let me go!”

  I loosen my hold on her wrists.

  “Do you need him to check to believe me?” she spits. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? More humiliation for me.” She’s angry and crying at once, and I’m guessing the tears are from stress as one more brick of the realization of her circumstances, of the inevitability of her fate is mortared into place.

  “No, I wouldn’t like that,” I tell her. I’m not my father, I want to add, but don’t. “Why are you on the pill, then?”

  “How do you know I am? Oh, that’s right. You looked through my things, and I guess you just assumed I sleep around.”

  “Why?”

  “None of your business, creep.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “Because I get really bad cramps, okay? Happy? Is it enough? Have you had enough? Or do you want more? You have me. Against my will. What else do you want to take?”

  “It’s enough, Cristina.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I said it’s enough.”

  She draws in a deep breath, and I can see she’s holding back a flood of tears, although she’s about to lose her battle.

  She sits down, scrubbing her face with her hands, and looks around her at this foreign place. In a house where she’s not quite welcome but also not permitted to leave.

  I don’t know why this bothers me. I don’t know why her being upset like this is fucking with me.

  “Come with me,” I say.

  “Don’t make me do this. Please.”

  “Just come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “You can lie down. Alone.”

  She looks up at me suspiciously. And she has every right to.

  I walk down to one of the guest rooms and open the door, then wait for her to follow me.

  She enters without a word.

  “No one will bother you for a few hours. I need to go but Cash will be inside if you need anything,” I say.

  She looks around, refuses to look at me as she sits on the bed and hugs her arms around her middle.

  “Okay?” I ask.

  She looks up at me. “Is there a lock?”

  I nod.

  I don’t mention that I have the key.

  21

  Cristina

  I lis
ten to his receding footsteps and only relax after ten minutes of complete silence. I look around the room. It’s luxurious with a king-size bed layered with a plush comforter and pillows in cream. The drapes along the two windows match the bedclothes.

  From the one closest to me, I can see the busy street below, the storefronts, and the rush of people. It’s oddly comforting even though I know I’m up here alone. That I’m not one of them.

  In the distance, I glimpse Central Park. What I’d give to go for a walk there without Damian or any guards or even the knowledge of their existence.

  I go into the attached bathroom and wash my hands, then splash water on my face. I look tired. I am tired.

  When I return to the bedroom, I take off my shoes, pull the covers back on the bed, and lie down. I don’t expect to sleep, but I must, because when I open my eyes, it’s to a soft tickle along my temple. I try to brush it away only to feel it again as I settle back into sleep.

  I blink my eyes open, momentarily disoriented. A deep orange glow streams in from the window. I sit up, rub my eyes, and see Damian standing over me, only to realize what that tickling must have been and suddenly hyper aware of what I must look like.

  He steps back and stands there in all his beautiful darkness, sliding his hands into his pockets, making my belly flutter when it should revolt.

  I swallow, then shift my gaze because I’m at a disadvantage again. I’m always at a disadvantage with him.

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after seven.”

  I slept the whole afternoon?

  “There’s someone here to see you.”

  I pull the blanket up, holding it between us like a shield. “Another doctor?” I sneer.

  “Your cousin.”

  I’m confused. “Liam?”

  “He’s inside.”

  “Liam is here?”

  Damian nods, looking almost sheepish. No, not quite that. But not as much an asshole as he usually is.

  “Is this a joke?”

  “Why would it be a joke?”

  “Because you like messing with me.”

  “It’s not a joke, Cristina.”

  I push the covers back, and for the first time since that stormy night when I first laid eyes on Damian, I smile. I leap out of the bed and run out into the hallway.

  Liam sees me at the same time I see him.

  “Liam!” I bound toward him, letting him catch me. We hug each other so hard that tears spring from my eyes.

  “Hey, Cousin,” he says, sounding so much more casual and relaxed than me.

  I step back and look him over. It’s been days, but it feels like years since I’ve seen him.

  Damian appears in my periphery. I turn to him, one hand holding Liam’s, replacing the happy smile with something harsher just for him.

  He looks at us, only I get the feeling he knows he’s not welcome, and for some reason, it bothers me. I’ve never been one to exclude anyone. I’ll go out of my way to make sure people feel welcome.

  But this is Damian Di Santo, I remind myself. Even if he did just give me time with Liam. And he isn’t welcome.

  “You have one hour,” he says. Turning, he walks down the hall and disappears behind one of the closed doors.

  22

  Damian

  I strip off my suit jacket and undo my tie, feeling claustrophobic. Elise won’t be able to get the stain off the sleeve of my dress shirt. I should have known better than to wear white.

  Unbuttoning the top buttons and undoing the cuffs, I pull it over my head and drop it into the trashcan.

  I think of Cristina then. Sleeping so soundly, she didn’t hear the lock turn. I’ve watched her sleep before. I sound like a creep even to myself, but I like the look of her when she’s so relaxed. When she’s not fighting me.

  I’ve had my share of women. Overindulged even. But this time, with this particular woman, things are different. The circumstances make it so, obviously, and maybe it’s just the fact that for almost the past decade of my life, I’ve known this time would come. I’ve known she’d be mine, but it’s something else. Something I feel deep in my bones.

  And I don’t like it.

  Forcing thoughts of Cristina Valentina out of my mind, I make my way into the bathroom. There, I splash water on my face, then stand at the sink for a minute and look at myself.

  I never liked Arthur Clementi’s sons, not as long as I’ve known them. I never trusted them, even though my father had made Arthur my godfather. I have no idea why he did that. Maybe they were close once. Who the fuck knows?

  Today, the sons received a warning.

  If I’d lost my ships due to the unexpected customs check, I’d have bypassed that warning.

  Arthur thought that knowing my father, being my godfather, would make some difference. But thing is, if you fuck me, and I let you get away with it, my enemies will line up to have their turn.

  And I’m not fool enough to think anyone in this business is anything other than an enemy.

  But that’s not what has me standing here studying my reflection. It’s not that this part of the business makes me uncomfortable. The opposite, actually. I’ve always made sure I’m the one to carry out the punishments, the one to make the example when an example needs to be made. I have a reputation for it, for being someone who, with countless soldiers at my disposal, enjoys getting his hands dirty.

  I come back to this every time I’m put in a situation such as this.

  The fact that I’m a monster.

  The fact that this part of me feels more real, more like home, than anything else.

  All the things my father expected and wanted my brother to be, I am. What would my mother think if she saw me now?

  I drop the towel and undo my belt as I switch on the shower. I strip off the rest of my clothes and step beneath the warm flow, thinking about Cristina again.

  Cristina out there with her cousin.

  Cristina happy.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy, I realize. Funny how you don’t notice the lack of something until you experience its opposite.

  And then the vanishing of that happiness when she faced me again.

  Why do I give a fuck? She should hate me. She’s smart to. I will give her another reason to tonight.

  Is giving her time with her cousin to make up for earlier? Maybe.

  Is it to buy favor?

  I don’t need to buy anything. She belongs to me.

  The kid had come with his father for the brief meeting we had today and had told me he wanted to see Cristina. He hadn’t been rude although he’d not quite asked my permission. Given what happened earlier, I agreed.

  I have to give him credit. He’s braver than his father ever was. I wonder if he’ll manage to hold on to that as he grows older. If he’ll behave with integrity when he sees the reality of how fucked up this world is.

  Some people believe in Karma balancing the scales.

  I believe that’s a load of bullshit.

  You balance your own damn scales.

  Some believe in coincidence. Take comfort in the expression that everything happens for a reason. And then they credit some god with this grand plan.

  Idiots.

  There is no god.

  And if there were, what an asshole for allowing what happened to my family.

  When I’m done, I switch off the shower and wrap a towel around my hips before walking back into the bedroom. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But she’s got another forty-five minutes, and I’ll give her that.

  I get dressed in another suit, this time with a dark shirt and use the door connecting the bedroom to my study so I don’t disturb them. There, I sit at my desk and switch on the monitor that shows me the living room. I don’t turn up the volume. That has to mean something.

  She’s so relaxed with him. Sitting on the couch like she is, one leg curled under her and laughing at what he says. He hands her something, a piece of paper. She takes it, reads
it, wipes her eyes, then leans her head against the back of the sofa to look up at the ceiling, almost looking directly into the hidden camera.

  And I can’t look away.

  Whatever he just gave her has upset her, and she’s trying not to show it. Struggling against emotion.

  I switch off the monitor wondering what the fuck is wrong with me and open my laptop to pick up the email I was reading earlier.

  I’ve had an investigator on my brother for two years now. Off and on, I’ve known where he is, yet he’s pretty good about giving them the slip. I get the feeling he’s sending me a message every time he does. Wanting me to know that he knows I’m watching. That he’s still in control.

  The PI lost him three weeks ago. Trail went cold in Bangkok. What the fuck my brother is doing in fucking Bangkok’s got me, but that’s not what I care about.

  I have a bad feeling about Lucas. He’s always had shitty timing. And Michela’s words have done their damage. I know my father will want to hand him everything I’ve built on a silver fucking platter. Firstborn son bullshit. First by seconds.

  We were born holding hands, Lucas and I. Mom would always tell us that story especially when we fought. It’s hard to imagine it now even though there was a time we were close.

  My father poisoned that, though.

  When the hour is up, I get up from my desk and walk into the living room. They’re still in the same position, but they both get quiet when they see me.

  “Cash,” I say, not taking my eyes off Liam.

  “Sir.”

  “See Liam out.”

  “Already?” Cristina asks, but Liam stands and puts up a hand to stop the argument he must hear coming just like I do.

  “It’s what we agreed,” he tells her but looks at me. “I’ll hold up my end of the bargain.”

  “Then you’ll be allowed to see her again.”

  Cristina gets up and walks him to the door as I pour myself a whiskey and watch their emotional goodbye. Well, emotional on Cristina’s part. Cash escorts Liam out.

  Once he’s gone, she turns to me. She wants to hate me, but I can see she’s struggling with it.

  “Thank you,” she says finally, stretching the sleeves of her sweater into her hands and folding her arms across her chest. She does that a lot, tugging her sleeves into her palms. It’s when she’s at a loss for what’s expected or what to do.