Unholy Union Page 2

“No… I don’t. Which is why I am hoping you’ll do what he wants.”

  “What exactly does he want in exchange for me running the business?”

  “He wants you to get married,” the lawyer answers.

  I swallow wrong and start to choke.

  Paolo grabs a glass of water and hands it to me. I chug it down, glance at my father, and notice his eyes are now open and he is staring at me.

  If I didn’t know any better, I swear I see the old bastard smile.

  “Is this a fucking joke?” I ask between taking big gulps of water.

  “No, Matteo, it’s not. You need to get married to take over the family empire. Do you believe this shit?” Paolo asks.

  I throw the glass against the door, watching as it shatters. I start to pace as my father’s eyes slowly follow me.

  “Married? Okay. You want me to get married? I’ll take Sarah to Vegas tonight and we’ll get married.”

  “Are you talking about Sarah Angelo?” the lawyer asks.

  “Yes,” I growl.

  “She is mentioned in clause 1.2. You can’t marry her. She doesn’t count.”

  I laugh and run my hand through my stubble. My father hates her more than he hates anything in the world. He has never liked her, and the feeling has been mutual.

  “Who in the hell do you expect me to marry if not the woman I fuck?” My eyes meet my father’s, and he closes his.

  “You might want to start dating because you only have six months,” Paolo teases.

  “Six months?”

  “Yes. If you aren’t married in six months, Paolo will be given 100%.” The lawyer drops this bombshell with a straight face, smartly, but I can tell he’s trying hard not to smirk at my newfound obligations.

  Don’t make the same mistakes. Those were the last words he said to me. My father never remarried after my mother’s murder. Did he wish he had found another wife?

  The last thing I need is to be stuck with some ball and chain.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  I need air… I can’t fucking breathe…. I need out.

  “Are you going to come back inside?” Paolo asks.

  I can’t get out of the house fast enough. I run down the stairs, pull the front door open, and walk down the driveway.

  “Fuck no.”

  I won’t even look at Paolo. He’s never wanted anything to do with this business, and it’s being handed to him on a silver platter. He won’t have a clue to what to do.

  “You know I don’t want any of this,” he tells me again.

  “Well, it doesn’t look like that matters, does it. Good fucking luck!”

  I reach into my pocket to pull out my keys and find a joint.

  “Do you have a lighter?”

  “No, I don’t. When did you start smoking that shit?” Paolo rolls his eyes.

  “Sarah gave it to me.”

  “Of course, she did. This is exactly why she was in the damn clause. You need to get your head out of your stubborn ass and find a decent woman to marry. If you don’t, I will sell off this business in pieces.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. You could sell it to me.” I raise my brows as I take in my younger brother.

  Paolo laughs and shakes his head. “No, I can’t sell it to you because that was in clause 3.”

  I don’t remember getting in my car or how I got to Sarah’s house.

  She pulls open the door in a silk robe and wraps her arm around me. “Hey, lover. I missed you.”

  “We need to talk,” I whisper between kisses.

  I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I tell her about my father having another stroke and how things don’t look good for him. I also tell her about the rules he made if I want to take over the family business.

  I thought she would be upset, but she’s just sitting there smiling.

  “I don’t see what the problem.” She doesn’t seem concerned at all.

  “Are you serious? Have you been listening to me?”

  “I have been. This is your company, baby. No one deserves it more than you, especially not Paolo who would rather stick band-aids on disgusting sick people. If you need a wife, I think we should find you a wife.”

  “We should find me a wife?” I reply incredulously.

  “Yes, we should. Besides, just because you find a wife doesn’t mean things have to end for us. You get married, we still do our thing, and once everything is yours, you divorce her.”

  “I like how you think, Sarah Angelo.”

  She crawls into my lap, and I take the robe off to show her exactly how much I like her plan.

  Afterward, I play with her hair as she lies across my chest. I start to think about my father and his damn marriage clause and Sarah’s willingness to help me. I can’t believe what a loyal woman I have. I am a lucky bastard.

  “How about we get out of town for a week?” she asks.

  “I would like nothing more. I’ll check on my father tomorrow morning then we can head out.”

  Isabella

  I don’t know how I got myself into this situation. Why did I agree to do this? Note to women everywhere: if a man asks you out, and your gut feeling tells you no, listen to it.

  He is a nice guy. He comes in every morning to service the coffee pot at the bank. He always smiles at me as he walks past my office, and I always meet his blue eyes and smile back. This should be where the story ends, but it isn’t.

  He came into my office this time and asked me out. What harm could it do? This could be the man of my dreams. At least, that is how I convinced myself to make this mistake. Hours later, we sit across each other having a pizza. He orders a large pepperoni pizza and two glasses of water. He ordered for me, didn’t even ask what I want. I hate pepperoni pizza and would have preferred a beer.

  It doesn’t take long to discover we have nothing in common. His entire life is coffee and the small company he works for. I try to change the subject, but he brings the conversation back to coffee. This is why you should listen to your gut feeling.

  “Did you catch the news this morning?” I ask.

  He immediately cuts me off. “I really don’t like to watch the news. I don’t like to hear about that stuff.”

  “You don’t like to hear about what stuff?”

  “You know, bad stuff. I don’t like to know about the bad things that happen to people,” he states.

  “Okay, so how do you keep up with what’s happening in the world?”

  “If it doesn’t affect me, I couldn’t care less,” he replies.

  I am taken aback when he says this. He only cares if it affects him?

  I don’t think this is the man for me. I don’t think this is a man at all.

  What kind of man only cares about shit that affects him personally?

  Give him another shot, Isabella. There has to be some good in him.

  “What are your career goals?” I ask.

  I have no interest in his career goals, but we still have a lot of pepperoni pizza left.

  “I plan on staying with this company until I retire. I am happy with my job. Why leave?”

  I stop my mouth from dropping and grab a slice of pizza. It tastes bad, but it isn’t as bad as what I am listening to. He has no ambition to have more in life. He is boring, and I am ready for this date to end. He doesn’t care about anything other than his small coffee company. He doesn’t even own the company; he just works there.

  I place the napkin on my plate and wait for him to finish. I wish I would have stayed home to watch TV. I just ruined my diet for nothing. I could be at home in my pajamas, eating ice cream. Granted, the ice cream is just as fattening as the pizza, but at least I wouldn’t have the unwanted company.

  When he stuffs the last slice in his mouth, I slide out of the booth. I pray there isn’t heavy traffic. I swear, if there is a traffic jam, I’ll jump out of the truck and walk. He smiles as we stroll to his truck. I hope he doesn’t try to kiss me.

  “When can we do this
again?” he asks.

  “I had a nice time tonight, Steve, but I think we should just stay friends.”

  I watch as his smile drops. “You didn’t have fun?” He sounds completely surprised.

  “It’s not that. I just don’t think we have much in common.”

  “How can you tell after one date?” he replies.

  “I just know.” I turn away from him and start glancing at my cell phone.

  I am being so rude; my mother would be ashamed. What can I say to him? I don’t want to tell him that he bores me. I want a man with life goals. I want a man who watches the news and understands what is happening in the world. I want a man who cares about what is going on whether it’s something that personally affects him or not.

  He quickly turns away to focus on the road and pulls out of the parking lot. I start to feel a little guilty. Why can’t I just like this guy? He is nice and has a decent job. Why do I need more? Why do I think I deserve more? Can I find a man with life goals who also cares about the world? Does that man exist?

  Will I find that man or should I settle for Steve? The ride home is a quiet one. Steve doesn’t look at me or attempt small talk. A cold, congested expression settles on his face. He walks me to the door and waits for me to get inside. His expression grows hard and resentful.

  Once the door is open, I turn around, and he is already walking back to his truck. The guilt over hurting Steve’s obviously fragile feelings is almost too much to bear as I crawl into bed.

  I hope I didn’t miss Mr. Available-Right-Now because I am waiting for Mr. May-Never-Show-Up.

  Steve ignores me when he enters the bank the next morning. He laughs and talks to the tellers. He glances at me, and his expression holds a note of mockery. I wonder why he didn’t say anything funny during our date? When he leaves, the girls gather together and stare at me. It’s not hard to notice that they appear to be very upset with me. I can only imagine what he told them. The girls all give me the cold shoulder for most of the day. Whatever Steve said obviously portrayed me as the villain.

  Hours later, Jake comes into the bank to make a deposit. He stops by my office to ask about my date. I wish he would ask about something more exciting, like the weather. Jake laughs when I roll my eyes and sigh. I have no interest in sharing what happened during my date. Jake leans back and shakes his head. He is wearing jeans and a nice suit jacket. His shoes look more expensive than my entire wardrobe. Not to mention he smells good. Why can’t I find a guy like Jake? He is all alpha man and has career goals. He is so successful but never settles.

  “Isabella?” His expressive face changes and becomes almost somber.

  I didn’t realize I had stopped paying attention to him. Shit, did he say something?

  “Yes?” I feel my flesh color.

  “What are you thinking about?” He laughs.

  “I was just wondering if I will find a man like you.” I force a demure smile.

  He blushes and looks away. He uncrosses his leg and leans over my desk. “I am sure, one day, you will meet the man of your dreams.”

  If only I am so lucky.

  Matteo

  Our vacation only lasts two days. Sarah and I are both disappointed when Paolo calls and advises that I need to get back home immediately. He won’t say what is happening over the phone, but it doesn’t matter. If he needs me home, I’m going back home. I see the disappointment on Sarah’s face as we drive back. She wants to come back to the house with me, but there is no way in hell that can happen. I think my father will yank the tubes out and stand up just to throw her out of the house. I take two steps at a time to get to his room. Paolo and my father’s attorney stand in the hall, waiting for me.

  “What is going on?” I ask.

  Paolo and the lawyer look at each other and back at me.

  I have never liked the pencil-necked motherfucker and wonder why he’s even here?

  “He’s refusing his medicine.” Paolo takes a step toward me, his face just barely masking his feelings.

  “What the hell do you mean he’s refusing his medicine? Just put the shit in his mouth.”

  “It’s not that easy, Matteo. He’s given up.”

  I stare into the bedroom and shake my head wondering how I can fix this.

  “Where were you?” the lawyer questions.

  I glance at Paolo and smirk. “None of your damn business.”

  I try to move past him, but he blocks me. He has no idea who he’s fucking with. He already has one strike against him with this damn clause he added. I know it wasn’t his idea, but he is the only person I am willing to blame at this moment.

  “I think it is my business. Your father is my client, and you going off with that woman isn’t good for the future of…”

  I grab him, and Paolo pulls me off. “You don’t talk to me about my father or my future.”

  “Fine. You go ahead and do whatever the hell you want. Meanwhile, I’ll make sure Paolo is filled in on the business.”

  He nods at Paolo and walks back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. It takes everything in me not to pull him out of this house and beat his ass. I have a better idea. It would only take one call to get rid of him… permanently.

  “He’s right.” Paolo sighs.

  “He’s not.”

  “Yes, Matteo, he is. You need to focus on finding a wife and not fucking Sarah. I know you like her, but let’s be honest. She served her purpose, and you need to grow up and move on.”

  I don’t respond because the lawyer comes out of the bedroom to announce that he is leaving. While Paolo walks him to the door, I go into the bedroom and sit next to my father.

  “Why?” I ask.

  He opens his eyes when he hears my voice.

  “Why are you doing this to me? Marriage? Really, Dad?” I whisper.

  He opens his mouth and starts to moan. He’s trying to communicate with me. I hope I am willing to hear what he actually says.

  “No… mis… mis… mis… t… take…” he stutters.

  “Is the clause a mistake, Dad?”

  He shakes his head. A tear falls down his cheek, and I notice he isn’t looking at me but past me.

  He is staring at his wedding picture.

  “That is what you want for me?”

  “Yes,” he answers clearly.

  My eyes widen.

  He wants me to get married to some nice girl just like my mother.

  If it didn’t work out for him, how will it work out for me?

  Why would I want to go through the same shit he did?

  Sarah may be a bitch, but she is a safe bitch for me.

  I don’t have to worry about her safety. If something happens to her, I can easily move on. She is a convenience that I am accustomed to. But I’ll do this if it’s what he really wants. What other choice do I have? I need to find some nice girl, marry her to become the Don. Paolo can live his dream. I can live mine, and my father will rest in peace.

  Sarah and I can always fuck around on the side. I will get married to take what is rightfully mine. This won’t be a marriage based on love. It never will be focused on love. It will be a business arrangement as far as I am concerned. Love is for suckers. It’s for the weak, and I am too powerful to be weak.

  I excuse myself to make a call when Paolo reenters the bedroom. She answers on the first ring.

  “I have to do it,” I growl out. My stomach starts to bubble, and I think I am going to be sick.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else, babe,” Sarah replies coolly.

  “I don’t know how you can be so understanding.”

  “You are doing this for our future. You’ll marry someone your father approves of. Once it’s all yours, you’ll come back to me. We’ll own this fucking city,” she brags.

  Sarah never had a problem with the marriage clause. She has no doubt we can find someone for me to marry. I don’t want any part of it. When we took our little vacation, I put the issue to rest, hoping to come up with a different so
lution.

  “You’re right. We will.”

  Closing my eyes, I know she is right. Operation: Find a Wife begins.

  One month later, I am frustrated and bored as hell. I don’t know how many dates I have been on, but I haven’t found the woman I want to marry. Granted, I have been picking them up in bars, but where else do you find a nice girl? I have been too busy searching for a wife to spend time with Sarah. I have so much pent up frustration that I decide to go for a walk. I glance at every woman that walks past me on Michigan Avenue. Making eye contact with a cute little blonde, I start to make my move. As I start to approach her, my phone starts to ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey… are you busy?” she asks.

  “Why? What is it?” I groan when I notice the blonde walking away.

  “Can you meet me at the bank?” Sarah asks.

  Why in the hell does she want me to meet her at the bank? “What’s going on, Sarah?”

  “I think I found her,” she whispers.

  I hesitate for a moment before I ask, “You think you found who?”

  “I think I found the future Mrs. Matteo Stone.”

  Isabella

  “What do you like to do in your free time?” she asks.

  The infamous bitchy blonde sits at my desk with a suspicious smile on her face. She is never nice to anyone… ever. I don’t understand why she is talking to me at all.

  Her eyes followed me as I walked out of the bank vault. I could feel her cold eyes burning a hole into my back. As I left the vault, she was still waiting. She followed me back to my office, and she is asking me questions.

  She asks my age, if I am married, if I have kids. I start to panic that she is hitting on me, but my luck isn’t that bad. At least, I hope it isn’t.

  “I like to read,” I whisper.

  When I try to get rid of her by indicating that I have work to do, she mentions opening a CD. She nervously starts to search through her handbag. Sighing, she tells me she forgot her checkbook. She can have her brother drop it off while we talk. I wait as she steps out of my office to call him.