Page 107 of Unholy Union
“Sabrina!” a familiar voice calls across the exhibit.
I turn toward it and immediately regret doing so, but not because of the person who called my name.
It’s because of the person she’s with.
Tessa hurries over in an emerald gown with delicate straps and a neckline so low I’m not sure how her fuller breasts defy gravity staying perfectly in place. But the color makes her blue eyes pop like sapphires.
Behind her, trailing like a poorly chosen accessory, is Matteo Basile.
My ex-boyfriend.
Cato stiffens beside me.
Tessa reaches us and throws her arms around my shoulders in a tight, excited hug. I hug her back, but my mind is still catching up to what I’m seeing.
“I didn’t know you were attending tonight,” I say as we separate, trying to keep the awkwardness out of my tone. My eyes dart to Matteo and then back to her. “And you’re here with… um, Matteo?”
Tessa’s smile turns sheepish. “Yeah. He had an extra invite… and um, asked me last minute. I thought it might be fun.”
Before I can respond, Cato cuts in coolly. “I suppose that’s what you do when you can’t find a woman who’ll date you.”
Matteo scoffs. He crosses his arms like he’s trying to appear intimidating, but next to Cato, he looks like exactly what he is—a college kid still playing dress up in a grown man’s world. His tuxedo sleeves don’t quite fit right, and the gel in his hair is doing more harm than good. He’s yet to lose the boyish quality to his features and he carries himself like he’s still a jockwandering the school halls at Fordham University rather than a grown man far past that stage of life.
“Oh yeah, Valente?” he snaps. “You needed an arranged marriage to get a wife. Sabrina didn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Matteo,” I say sharply. “Stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But it’s the truth, am I right?” His eyes shift to me accusatorially. “You don’t love him. Tell him, Brina.”
“I said stop!” I cry out, heat flushing my cheeks.
He takes half a step toward me, and that’s all it takes.
Cato cuts him off with a prompt stride forward, somehow exerting dominance while still remaining calm and aloof all at once.
Suddenly, I remember what can be so terrifying about my husband.
“Basile,” he says, “I strongly advise you to walk away right now. Turn around, get out of our face, and never speak to my wife again. Or I’ll make you regret it more than you can imagine. That’s a fucking promise.”
Matteo’s nostrils flare. He looks like he’s about to throw one of his classic, petulant tantrums, but then he decides against it. He turns on his heel and storms off, catching a waiter’s tray with his shoulder and sending a cascade of champagne flutes crashing to the floor.
Tessa flinches beside me. “I had no idea that would happen. I just wanted a night at the Met. I’m sorry, Sab.”
I let out a shaky breath, glancing at Cato as the crowd starts to buzz around us, pretending not to stare.
“It’s fine,” I mutter.
But I’m not so sure it is.
We were supposed to have a night out that didn’t result in anything crazy happening and we’ve already had a run-in withmy ex-boyfriend. If that’s a sign of things to come, then it’s not looking too good…
Cato’s hand slides around my hip to pull me closer. He brushes his lips over mine, interrupting my intrusive thoughts with an affectionate kiss.
“Get out of your head, principessa,” he murmurs. “One jock isn’t going to ruin our evening.”
I smirk at him. “Okay. But I need champagne. Immediately.”
“Then champagne it is.”
