MY STEPBROTHER'S RETURN

"Come on, Leon! This is the fourth time that we are postponing this, all because of your schedule again? Come on!" I fume at this ever-busy, soon-to-be husband of mine.

Well, that is, if this damn wedding will actually find favor in the eyes of the gods and push through. I actually wish it does because I have invested more than just love in it. I have done even the impossible to make this work. Things that my dad would kill me for if ever he learned about them.

They say that how much you sacrifice in love should not matter as long as the end results are as you anticipated. I wanted the best for this man, the best of the man that I would spend the rest of my life with. I wanted to scour off the inferiority complex from him so that he could match my class. And so I gave my all, ensuring that I shaped him into the best version a man can ever be. And I am glad of the results.

And all has been sunshine and roses until recently. We are in the middle of our big day preparations, and I don't like the direction that things are taking of late. I would like to understand why he seems to be drifting slowly away from this marriage thing. I mean, he should be as committed as I am, right? Why is it beginning to feel like I am the only one interested in this wedding? Why does it feel like I am the only one anticipating this day?

"You know how important my work is, don't you?" Leon's voice comes through the line.

The same old excuse that I have been hearing for weeks. And for God's sake, what is not important? Me? Our wedding? Is us tying the knots like we have been dreaming of and starting our family not important again?

"And I am not?" I squeal back through the line. "Our wedding is not important, Leon?" I quiz, and anger is getting the best of me, and this is warranted. What I am feeling right now would be felt by anybody in my shoes.

"I didn't say that, Bella," he roars back in forced calmness. "Look, my desk is so full. I don't need any more frustrations right now. I have a million things to take care of. See what you can do with the caterers if you must do this today."

Hold on!

I am frustrating him now? When will he have time for this because this is becoming too exhausting? I have better things to do as a Montana than frustrate people, you know?

"And ooh," his deep voice echoes through the line again, "the wedding planners called to say that they are coming over to the resort tomorrow to start the preparations. I gave them your number because I want you to deal with them from now on."

Shock slaps me! My anger rises threefold!

Even them? This was the only thing he had agreed to take care of because, apparently, the bitch leading the team is his best friend. But even this, he has let go? Just what the hell is wrong with this guy? How the hell does he expect me to manage the resort and handle this marriage pressure all by myself as if I am marrying myself?

Ooh, no! We can't continue this way! I also have an office to run. My table is also full in the office. It is either we are in this together or together. No more excuses!

"Hel... Hello? Leon! le...!"

Dead end! I only receive back the echoes of my own wrath. The jerk already hanged the fuck on me! That son of a nobody!

I slam the damn phone on the empty seat beside me, letting my frustrations out in a loud growl. Since when did he start disrespecting me this much?

"Son of..."

I feel like screaming through the deadline, but if only he could hear me. How dare he bundle all the responsibilities of this wedding to me? We still have a lot to do in the nothingness of the time that we have left, yet he is doing this? What sort of a motherfucker does this?

How dare he hang up on me just like that? My desk is also full, you know? I also have unattended files waiting for me back at the office. And for goodness sake, what is keeping him busy, huh? The company that I built for him? The company in which I am still the CEO? Ain't I his boss?

I won't refute that he has proven to be a witty ass, taking the company to commendable heights for the three years since it was born, but come on! That is not reason enough for him to do this to me! He should at least remember that he would still be a nobody, wandering in the stinking streets, eating garbage, or going on an empty stomach for days and sleeping on the cold streets if it weren't for me!

I, Bella Montana, picked him up from the streets, cleaned him up, clothed him, fed him, and gave him hope when life had mercilessly fucked him up. It was my money that started and funded the company he now works for. I was the one who put him in that seat that is burning his ass right now. I am the reason he can be counted as a man among men and even stand out among them right now. He is nothing without me, and he dares do this to me?

The balls he has grown, huh! I am beginning to hate him for freaking me out this way. For tossing all the burdens to me. What does he take me for?

The sound of my house buzzing again tosses that bittersweet tale aside. My dad's name on the screen doesn't do any good to my messed-up, riled self. It reminds me of the second reason why I had to abandon my office and drive all the way here to the airport.

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!!!

I break the eye contact before I get lost in his for good. I also realize that my legs are decussated, perhaps to stamp down that irritating throb between my legs. I don't understand why my cheeks are burning with rosiness even after breaking eye contact.

Him? He should not get me this hot, for goodness sake! I mean, Joe?

"What are you not used to that is getting you to blush like a sweet sixteen, huh? Seeing a hot guy like me, or you being called gorgeous? Hasn't any man appreciated you for the beauty that you really are, sissy?" He asks as he fiddles with his trimmed field hockey beard.

He is as annoying as ever. But in a way, I hate to admit that he is right. I mean, this is him, my stepbrother, the ever-annoying Joe Fredrick Montana! Why am I aroused by him?

Am I even normal? What sort of abominable affection is this? I should have jumped right on his ass as soon as I saw him, cursing him for making me leave my busy schedule and come all the way here. Yet here I am, ogling him as if he were a piece of meat that I could devour in a minute. What the fuck?

Sweet sixteen, my foot! I am a twenty-eight-year-old adult for crying out loud, and I need to get a grip on these forbidden sensations!

"I have no time for your silly jokes! Get your ass moving to the car before I change my mind and leave you here," I say and turn to leave while still battling with my emotions.

Even my heart is throbbing differently for the first time in my twenty-eight years. It never thumbed like this, even for Leon. Some kind of evil power ought to have possessed me, Sha! This is not happening. I mean, how on freaking earth?

"Wait!"

Everything stops-my heart skips several beats, I forget to breathe, and all the hairs on my body stand on alert as he grabs my hand from behind. Holy Gracious Mary, explain to me what kind of spell I am under. Slowly and gently, he turns me around, and we lock eyes.

"Not even a welcome hug for a brother that you haven't seen in ten years?" He asks, opening his arms wide to welcome me. "Come on!" He adds with a smug tugging on his lips.

I should have objected, but I find myself falling into his arms, and again, a wave of conflicting sentiments spanks me. I don't know whether it is his scent, his homey chest, or his strong arms and the way they are tightly but gently embracing me into him. I just can't tell what is arousing me like this, and I hate it. No. I actually, weirdly, love it here, in his embrace. It feels like the sweetest and safest haven there could ever be in this world. Someone tell me I am in a dream!

"I missed you!" The way his voice tickles me is also different, weakening my bones and arousing more sparks all over my body that are already burning.

I nudge him away mildly to cut this forbidden hug and everything in between what I am feeling. I feel like I am floating in a quagmire of hate, pleasure, and thrill. I honestly can't explain what I am feeling or why.

"The traffic jam is pretty bad. We better get going," I say as I turn around, avoiding his eyes like a bullet.

"That is even better." He says, stopping me again and making a turn to him.

That is better?

I swirl around. He never misses a chance to annoy me, does he? Does he know just how much I detest driving and dealing with stupid traffic jams? Well, what does he remember about me? And even if he did, what the fuck does he care? His third leg must be twitching with the glee of anticipating my misery right now.

"Give me the key!" He adds, stretching his hand toward me.

My eyebrows rise in bewilderment. "Why?" I ask in mental confusion.

He smirks. That damn smirk. What happened to him in Cuba? He seems the exact opposite of what I expected him to be-how I knew him before.

"I know you can't stand being on that seat for minutes, as far as I can recall. Your ass might be burning already. Plus, I can compensate you for bringing you here against your will. So, I will drive."

Damn! Does he have to be so dirty-mouthed? What a jerk! I would have applauded him for guessing that right, but forget it.

I slam the damn key into his palm and walk to the car without even looking back. I was about to open the door, but a hand held the door before I did. I turn around, almost crashing into his face behind me.

A fleeting moment passes as we stare deep into our eyes. I don't know if it is coincidental or if the devil intended it to be because he isn't backing down. I can't understand the look in his eyes either. It's a dark look, bleeding a combo of things that don't ring a bell to me. Things that are melting me down in a way that I hate and love at the same time.

This is freaking forbidden! None of this should be happening.

I take a long blink, and I lean back, creating some distance between us. The heat he is percolating is still burning me. Or is it the insidious fire in his eyes?

"What are you doing?" I whine in a powerless voice.

"I am trying to be a gentleman," he winks with his left eyebrow, scanning my face as if looking for something. "And what is happening to you, sweet little sister?" He hoarses, his bewitching eyes burning my face as I battle with all my efforts to avert it.

"Me?" I ask again, swallowing hard and hoping that he does not witness this forbidden arousal he is inflicting on me.

"Yes. Are you, in any way, lusting for me? When did you become this naughty, little sissy?" He asks with an annoying smug, delineating the side of my cheek and resting his hand on my neck.

I squint as more sparks arise. Something so paralyzing ran down my spine.

Screw this moron! What kind of witchcraft did he bring from wherever he came from? How did he even know he was having this forbidden effect on me?

I cannot allow this forbidden feeling. I have to fight it at all costs!

I took a deep breath to cool the rage of fire burning inside of me. "You wish!" I say as I try to walk out.

But he slams his other hand on the side of the car, caging me to him and leaning too close for my liking, feeding me his hot pheromones.

"Are you sure? Do you mean to say that I am not affecting you in any way? Are you sure your pants are not wet as we speak?" He speaks to my lips, almost bringing me to my knees.

I swear, this jerk knows perfectly what he is doing to me. He is enjoying playing with me. He is making fun of me, and I should be ashamed of myself for allowing myself to feel this way.

"Get the fuck off me, Joe Montana!" I squeal calmly to avoid arousing suspicions around us. That is, if we haven't caused any already.

"What if I don't, Belladine Montana?" He asks, his voice deeper than I had known it to be, his eyes drilling through mine as he licks his lower lip to what only he and the devil know.

"I will smash your balls so hard and make sure no sperm will be left alive. That way, Joe Fredrick Montana, no annoying person like you will be born into this world," I state, and he laughs out so loud, irritating my demons more.

Should he seriously be laughing right now? I want to get on his nerves like I always did. I wanted to irritate his ass! Why am I the one feeling the anger?