Isabella
I cringed as I heard the gunshot coming from the woods. I didn’t want to believe Zane had shot him, but I didn’t know what else to think.
When he came out of the woods, relief washed over me like a cold wave. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself, desperately wanting everything to be over. It seemed like every day brought new, unfathomable horrors. I couldn’t believe I’d been upset about Zane not calling me just a few days ago. Now, part of me wished I’d never heard from him again. This was all too much, and it was happening much too quickly.
I watched Zane’s form come out of the woods. He shook his hands off, then started the long walk back to the road. The patch of road was practically deserted. Even though we were in New Jersey, it looked like a swamp. I couldn’t believe I’d never paid attention to how ominous the surroundings were before; the sky was a mottled dark grey and the trees were smudges of dark brown and dark green. Zane was a black figure straggling towards me. I shivered again.
“Zane!” I called loudly. “Zane! Are you all right?”
When Zane got back to the car, he glared at me. “What did I tell you about not making noise?”
I pouted. “You didn’t tell me anything about that,” I said softly. “You just said not to get out of the car.”
Zane looked weary. “Don’t argue with me right now, Isabella.”
I saw a smudge of something dark on his pants. When I reached over to wipe it, he smacked my hand away.
“Don’t touch that,” he said sharply. “You don’t know where it came from.”
I laughed. “Like, you think that guy had AIDS?”
“You don’t know anything,” Zane said sharply. “You don’t know where he came from, and you don’t know what he was up to before he died. Rule of thumb, you don’t go around putting your fingers in strangers’ blood.”
A chill passed through my body. “Jesus,” I mumbled. “Sorry.”
Zane pointed the car towards his home and pressed it into gear. As much as I didn’t want to think about what he and I had done, I found it didn’t really upset me. It felt like a completely different part of my life, a part of my life that didn’t fit in with the rest of the world. It occurred to me that we’d both committed a crime just now. I was shocked to find I didn’t feel any different.
“Does it always feel like this?”
Zane turned to me. “What are you talking about?”
“I mean, I barely feel anything,” I said, staring down at my hands. I couldn’t believe they were responsible for knocking out a grown man twice my size. The crowbar was at my feet, and I picked it up, halfway expecting to see gore and hair clinging to the end. There was nothing, not a hint that it had ever been used to hurt a man. I shuddered. Already, I was starting to forget the powerful feeling that had surged through my body when I’d brought the crowbar down on the man’s head.
Zane sighed. He looked at me. “Isabella, it’s okay to admit how you feel. I know you can’t suppress this shit. You’re not used to it.”
I twisted in the seat so I wouldn’t have to look at him, and looked out the window instead. “Whatever,” I mumbled. “I just want this to be over.”
We were both silent for the rest of the ride. When we pulled up in front of Zane’s house, I yawned. “I’m tired,” I said. “I want to take a nap.”
I could tell Zane wanted to argue with me, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll be downstairs,” he said lightly. “You go sleep.”
Climbing the stairs, I had to stop and rest against the bannister when I got to the top. For some reason, I felt absolutely exhausted. I felt like I hadn’t ever been this tired in my whole life, like I could sleep for days and it still wouldn’t be enough to help me feel better.
Zane’s bed was cool and inviting. I slipped out of my clothes and crawled under the sheets, clad only in panties. I didn’t even care if Zane saw me like this; I was beyond feeling self-conscious. The silk sheets wrapped my tired limbs in a way that made me feel safe and secure for the first time in hours. Maybe this is the secret, I thought to myself. Maybe I just have to spend the whole day in bed, ignoring the real world.
Soon, I fell into a light, troubled sleep. I kept having dreams about other people, people I hadn’t seen in years. There was some kind of deal, and I was expected to drive across the state and make it. When someone asked about my husband, I looked down at my left hand and saw a giant ring. I realized they were talking about Zane.
I woke up with a start. It was still light outside, but barely. Weak evening rays were streaming through Zane’s bedroom windows. My mouth was dry and my stomach felt like an empty roll of toothpaste that had been squeezed out. So far, I wasn’t enjoying being pregnant. I was both starving and exhausted all of the time, and it made no sense. I felt like I could never get enough food or sleep.
Getting dressed, I padded downstairs. Zane was sitting at the kitchen table. He didn’t even look up when I strode into the room and slid down into a chair across from him. Yawning loudly, I covered my mouth with my hand. “I can’t believe I slept for so long,” I mumbled in a tired voice. “I’m starving. What time is it?”
Zane looked up at me from a pile of paperwork. “It’s the evening,” he said. “You want me to order some food?”
My stomach rumbled and I burst out laughing. Zane glared at me. “Relax,” I said defensively. “I’m sorry. It was just…funny timing, that’s all.”
“That’s a fuckin’ word for it,” Zane snapped. He opened a small computer and slid it across the table to me. I saw that he’d pulled up the site of an Italian family restaurant. “This place is pretty good; we should just order from them.”
I picked out a salad, a dinner serving of lasagna and some cannoli before passing the computer back to Zane. He made his picks quickly, then reached into his back pocket and dumped a wad of cash on the table.
“If I’m not around when the food comes, give the kid a big tip,” Zane said. He stood up from the table and stretched.
I felt a thread of panic worm into my stomach. “Where are you going?”
Zane sighed. “I was going out back to work out,” he said. He stretched. “I feel like I need to beat something up,” he added.
“Please don’t go,” I said softly. “I don’t feel safe alone.”
Zane looked like he was going to argue with me, but finally he flopped back down in his chair. “Fine,” he snapped. “Any other demands, Princess?”
I blushed hotly. “You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” I said. “But you know I’m right to be scared.” Zane shifted around without replying. “Who are you?”
Zane laughed shortly. “I’m Zane Ricci, honey, your dream come true. Who did you think I was?”
I glared at him. “You know what I mean. You know I want to know you, who you are, what you do.” I gestured around. “I mean, you have this great house and car and you don’t have a day job. Do you gamble? What kind of stuff do you like to do?”
Zane shook his head. “We ain’t getting into this right now,” he said in a low voice. “Sorry, honey, ain’t gonna do it.”
I stood up with my hands on my hips. “I have a right to know the father of my child. I grew up without knowing shit about my dad, and it really fucked me up. You have to tell me, Zane. Come on, out with it.”
Zane bit his lip. He seemed unsettled by what I’d just said. He stared at me for a long time without replying. Finally, he opened his wide, sensual mouth. “I’m part of a family business. Do you know what that is?”
I blinked. “Like a dry cleaner or a restaurant?”
Zane shook his head. “No, honey. A family business.” His last words were spoken in a curt tone. “Like, you know what I mean?” He raised his eyebrows at me. When it hit me that he meant the mob, I gasped.
“Like the Mafia?”
Zane stared at me without nodding. “Whatever you want to call it,” he said breezily. “We just call it the family business now. It’s a big area of commerce around this part of Jersey, and I think you know that.”
I gasped again. I couldn’t believe Zane was in the mob. It just didn’t seem likely. But then again, I was finding out lots of things today, about Zane and myself.
“I’m the son of the leader,” Zane continued. “You have any more questions you’d like to drop on me?”
I shook my head quickly. “No,” I said softly. “That about covers it.” Suddenly, the gunshot from before seemed even more ominous. Zane was in the mob. Zane was in the mob and he’d just killed someone who had attacked us first. Zane was in the mob and I’d helped him by bashing this guy on the head with a crowbar. Tears welled up in my eyes and I blinked them away as quickly as I could. God damn it, Isabella. Why do you always have to get involved with these losers?
“What’s wrong?” Zane smirked at me. “The truth hurt a little too much?”
I bit my lip. “I’m fine,” I lied. “I just…I’m tired. I hate being pregnant. I feel so emotional and exhausted and starving all of the time.”
Zane was about to reply when we both heard the doorbell. He got up and loped towards the door, fistfuls of cash in hand. By the time he’d reappeared, the tantalizing smell of Italian food filled the kitchen and my stomach rumbled loudly.
He set down a big plastic container of salad and a bigger tray of lasagna in front of me. “Eat,” he said shortly. “You’ll feel better when you get some nourishment in that body of yours.”
I felt his eyes on me as I peeled the lids off and dug in. The food was so good I almost started crying again.
“I’ll keep you safe, Isabella,” Zane said slowly. “I know you don’t really wanna believe me, but you have to know that I’m doing all of this to help you. I promise everything’s going to be okay.”
I put my fork down and chewed through a mouthful of pasta. “It’s just…it’s a lot to take in,” I said, looking down at my lap. “What’s going to happen to me?” I looked at him in fear. “And what if something happens to you?”
Zane nodded. “I’ve thought about that. That’s why we’re getting married tomorrow.” He held up a slip of paper. “We’re going down to city hall and getting married. That way, if anything does happen, you and the kid will be safe. You’ll both have my last name. If anything happens to you, the guys will protect you.”
I swallowed hard. Marriage? The thought was almost enough to make me start crying again. When I pictured myself getting married, I’d always thought I’d have a white dress and a church full of flowers. A handsome, smiling fiancé who loved me. A future mother-in-law to henpeck me over children and home décor. I never imagined going down into the windowless basement of a county clerk’s office and saying, “I do” in front of a judge who had never seen me before. I wanted all of the bells and whistles. I knew it was childish, but this was the last straw. I started sobbing, putting my head down on my arms and hiding my face from Zane.
“Isabella, what’s wrong?” Zane’s voice sounded tired. “What happened? What did I say?”
“I didn’t want my wedding to be like this. I wanted a real wedding. In a church! With a white dress, and flowers,” I whined, looking up and wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I wanted the wedding to really mean something. You’re only doing this to protect me.”
Zane licked his lips. “And you think that doesn’t mean anything?” His voice was deadly somber. “You think I don’t care about what happens to you?”
Something about his tone of voice dried my tears. I sat up straighter in the chair and tried to compose myself. “I didn’t say that,” I protested. “I just…I didn’t think my wedding would be like this.”
“Well, I didn’t think my life would be like this either,” Zane said. “I didn’t think I was ready to be a father. But here I am, with you, having this kid.”
“Fine,” I said softly. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”