01- Wrecking My Brother's Marriage

E M I L Y

What makes a woman despicable?

Perhaps it's being loudmouthed, as the world would say, or maybe…it’s just throwing away an entire future for one fleeting moment. One stupid, reckless, incredible moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He coos, his voice low and rough as he holds my hands above my head, covering my body with kisses that feel like brands.

I roll my eyes back, a shudder running through me as he moves inside me, a rhythm that is both slow and frantic all at once. Michael is in the bathroom just a few doors away, and here I am, biting my lower lip so hard I taste blood, holding myself back from screaming his brother's name as he takes me through phases of euphoria I have never, ever felt before.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and demanding, and they calm me while somehow pushing every last thought of his brother from my mind. He covers my lips with his, swallowing my moan as we finally, shatteringly, reach our peak together.

He rolls off me and lays next to me, pulling my body against his before I can even think to move. I try to catch my breath, my head spinning, grappling with the scent of him mixed with sweat. It felt so good, so ridiculously good that I would've begged for it to never stop if I didn't have a husband waiting for me in our room.

I turn to him, my eyes meeting his gaze, and he smiles, a slow, easy thing. He's so breathtaking with those long lashes and that heart-leaping smile. I caress his face gently, my thumb tracing his jawline, and as he leans closer for another kiss, my brain makes a sudden, violent turn. I shouldn't be here. I should be with Michael. It's our anniversary night.

“I have to go…” I whisper, breaking the kiss gently but with a finality that feels like a physical blow.

He stops immediately, his expression shifting, and I start scrambling for my clothes, needing to get to the bathroom, to clean the evidence of his come from my skin.

“So you're going back to him?” He scoffs, the sound laced with a bitterness that wasn't there a second ago.

“Of course, I have to,” I say, my voice barely steady. “He's my husband.”

****

THREE WEEKS PRIOR

*****

“Emily, we’re going to be late!” Micheal yells from downstairs, his voice echoing up the stairwell with that familiar edge of impatience.

“I'm coming, just give me five more minutes!” I yell back, and his response is a frustrated groan I can hear perfectly through the floor. I quickly adjust my makeup one last time and let down my hair from the rollers, letting my dark curls bounce freely onto my white crop top.

I rarely, or honestly never, have time for moments like this. Or it's fair to say that I don't usually put a decent effort into my appearance on a normal day. Today, however, is completely different. It’s the big family reunion that Michael and his entire family have been planning for years now.

When I finally finish up and slip on my sneakers, I'm downstairs, sliding into the passenger seat of the SUV and immediately adjusting my eyelashes in the car mirror while our neighbor, Barry, drives us out of the garage.

“You look amazing,” Michael says, his tone softening as he looks me over.

“Thank you.”

He takes my hand in his and plants a warm, firm kiss on my knuckles just as Barry pulls the car out onto the road, heading for the airport.

“So you're going to spend the rest of the holidays with the family?” Barry asks, making conversation.

I snuggle into a warm cuddle with Michael’s arm, and he grins at me before looking back at Barry. “Just the summer. It's going to be great, honestly. Lots of our family members are coming.”

I watch him light up as he says this. He's been super excited for this reunion since the year began; it's something he's always talked about, always wanted. I've been married to Michael for seven years now and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I've never felt so loved and so utterly adored in the arms of anyone else, and he makes me feel exceedingly lucky every single day.

“That sounds fun. You're going to meet them for the first time, Emily?” Barry asks me, glancing in the rearview.

“Not really all of them. I've met his parents, of course, just not the extended family.”

“Is your brother coming, Michael?”

“Your brother?” I repeat, turning to him. The question throws me.

Michael looks at me, and I can see the slight hesitation in his eyes, knowing that I need an explanation. I know he has cousins, a niece from his youngest sister Margaret, and of course, his parents and grandmother. But I have never, not once in seven years, heard a single word about a brother before.

“My younger brother, Matteo,” he says, his voice taking on a dismissive tone. “Classic black sheep of the family. He ran away from home when he turned fifteen, so we don't hear from him that much.” He explains as his hand slides around my waist, pulling me closer in an attempt to comfort me. “We don't really consider him family anymore because he made his choice a long time ago. I'm sorry for not telling you, baby. It just never came up.”

“It’s fine,” I say, offering him a small, understanding smile as we pull up to the airport departures drop-off.

After giving Barry some extra cash to watch our dogs, we finally go inside to finalize the rest of the necessary documents for our trip. The flight is long, a blur of in-flight movies and bad coffee. After hours and a couple of stops, the plane finally lands in Greece, and we're immediately greeted by a sleek black car that takes us straight to his family's vacation house.

Michael gets instantly carried away catching up with his cousins, Tristan and Grey, all of them chatting and laughing loudly in the sprawling living room. I follow the maids who are carrying our stuff, showing them where to leave our bags in the master bedroom just as Michael’s head pops around the door frame.

“Err, babe?”

“Yes?” I ask, turning to him.

“I’m going with Tristan to see an old friend who lives nearby. We'll be back in a bit, I promise. Mom and dad are on their way from the hotel,” he says, already halfway out the door.

“Okay,” I reply, a little disappointed. “Please be back early.”

“I will,” he says with a quick, distracted smile. He blows me a kiss and then he's gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

After taking a long, hot shower to wash off the travel grime, I pull on a simple sundress and head out to the massive kitchen to get a cold drink. I decide to stroll back into the vast living room, hoping to catch the view of the sunset through the incredible floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the sea.

My jaw practically drops when a tall figure strolls through the main door as if he owns the place. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his perfectly pressed trousers, and his gelled brown hair glimmers in the fading sunlight. He looks ethereal, almost like a model for a very seductive cologne ad. He’s the kind of man that would cause a woman to drop an egg in a comical cartoon, the sheer sight of him short-circuiting basic motor functions.

The maids follow behind him, struggling with his luggage, and I notice each one has her cheeks blazing red. It seems he has the same dizzying effect on everyone.

With a confident, easy smile, he takes off his sunglasses, and a piercing pair of grey eyes meet mine. They never leave me as he approaches in long, deliberate strides, his shoulders flexing subtly with each step. He's definitely got that model vibe. It's like he's walking his own personal runway.

“Matteo Greene,” he says, his voice a low rumble as he offers me his hand. When I don't immediately take it, too flustered to move, he adds, “You must be Michael's wife?”

I blink, forcing myself back into reality, and finally slide my hand into his. I try to ignore the jolt of sparks that the simple contact sends shooting up my arm. “Yes,” I manage to stammer out. “I'm…ummm…Emily. Emily Greene.”

“I know,” he shrugs, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He doesn't let go of my hand. “I’m his brother.”