Chapter 2 THE ENCOUNTER

Before picking up the call, I ricochet my eyes around the busy place, trying to scan for that familiar, ugly face that I came to pick up. That is, if I still remember him well, which I doubt. It's been what again?

Ten years?

Yes! Pretty right! It has been ten good years of pure peace without having to breathe the same air with that annoying bastard of my father.

My stepbrother, Joe Fredrick Montana!

I still don't get where he got the balls to come back here because he can go fuck himself with that lame excuse of attending my damn wedding. He might be the bad omen ruining my wedding plans because I am certain that there is no way he would come all the way from Cuba to share my joy after the hell that I put him through ever since my father brought him and his mother to our home as his second family. My mother could not bear the shame, embarrassment, and disgrace. As a result, she developed a serious high blood pressure that later led to her demise twenty years ago, when I was just ten and Joe was twelve.

I laid all the blame for my mother's immature death on them all, and I still do. Ten years later, Joe could no longer bear my hostility towards him and his mother. He asked to be transferred to a school abroad, and since Mr. Montana has all the power that money coughs, that was as easy as blinking an eye.

Just like that, phew! I had one problem down since my half-nuisance-brother was out of my life. I actually prayed that he would remain there. But now, ten years later, he is back? To do what? Has he mustered the courage to bear with my loath because hell knows that I still loathe him as much as I did back then?

Actually, no. Rephrase that. I detest him much more than I did before. He and his mother. My anger has mounted over the years, and now that he dared to come back and my father had the guts to force me to pick him up, I feel like all that anger I have been concealing since he left is crushing down on my poor soul.

Having failed to scan that ugly face anywhere, I swipe the receiver button on the third ring.

"Bella? Where on earth did you go? Joe has been waiting for more than an hour now." Dad did not even wait for me to speak first.

He must be thinking that I disobeyed him and went some other way because he knows the great rift between me and his bastard son is beyond bridging. Come to think of it, I should have done that, actually. I should have gone to meet the caterers, waited for the wedding planners, or attended to my job other than coming to pick that annoying bastard.

"Then where is your son, Dad? Tell him to find me in less than three minutes! A second longer, and I will be out of here!" I say.

"Can't you call him, dear? Why are you complicating things so much?" My dad asks furiously.

Call that jerk? Eyes roll! "I don't have his number," I respond.

"Impossible children!" He curses as he hangs up the phone.

Impossible? That is a proper phrase to define me and Joe! Wait and see how hell will come crumbling down on the Montana family once again with this jerk's return! He and I are like two axles in the same basket. Always crashing and making each other bleed! Ooh, yeah! That is how we damn rock and roll-taking pleasure in hurting each other. The juiciest part of our endless fights is that I always take the trophy.

Well, I am actually getting a thrill out of this somehow. It has been so damn long since I picked a fight with someone or angered someone to the core, aside from his mother, which didn't quench my thirst because my father is always ready to play the Koffi Annan role. The satisfying brawls minimized the day Joe left, but it is just about to go down again, and I am so ready!

Just when I am dropping the phone from my ear, a spark strikes me as a strong arm pats the bare skin of my hand. The scent tickles my nostrils from behind.

A very unfamiliar shiver jolts down my spine! I hold my breath as I take in the unfamiliar intoxicating scent.

"Waiting for someone?"

Forget the sin-screaming voice, but whatever this guy is percolating must be something so forbidden. Only something forbidden could have such a domineering allure to entice someone like this. I mean, how can a plain, harmless touch from a mere stranger affect me this way?

I turn around. Slowly and curiously.

An adorable male frame dwarfs me beneath it, and I take a minute to take in his bewitching allure.

He is gorgeous in all conventional ways; his skin tone is between fair and pale, and he is flawless. I anticipate his eyes, which are hidden behind the black shades, to be extremely deep and golden brown. His square jaw and high cheekbones frame his face perfectly. He is not the common, muscular alpha male with 8-pack abs and 16-cm biceps, but he can indisputably stand out in a crowd of millions. His moist, full, pink lips are something that any straight girl would give anything to lick. He is, in short, charming. Breathtaking. Someone that any straight woman would swoon over-and I am no exception. That explains why my legs are crossed right now, preventing the throbs down there from coming out so loud.

He lifts his black shades, giving me the pleasure to delve into the deepest depths of his eyes. They are exactly as I anticipated-deep, golden orbs with a strong spark enough to hold you at the base of their depths forever.

"Hello, gorgeous!"

And when he speaks? That husky, guttural baritone?

Oh, mio, Dio! Lord have mercy!!!