by Zoey Parker
My blood ran cold. Why did Zane have this? What had he done to my father?
Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I quickly threw Zane’s robe over my naked body and stalked downstairs. Zane knew something I didn’t, and I was going to find out what exactly it was.
Chapter 22
Zane
I chuckled to myself. Isabella had spent almost the whole day in bed asleep. She was getting so lazy. If she didn’t watch out, she’d start to get fat.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking some coffee and going over what I’d have to do that night. For one, I needed to get in touch with Jake. If we were going to make that deal work, he was going to have to get his shit together. I frowned, pounding on the table with a fist. The last thing I wanted was to get fucked on this deal. If Jake and I didn’t work together like Lionel wanted, my name was going to be shit.
I grinned when I heard the door upstairs bang open. “There she is!” I called loudly. “Miss Sleeping Beauty. I thought you were gonna be out all day!”
There was no reply, only the sound of Isabella’s footsteps thundering down the stairs.
“Someone’s in a cranky mood this morning,” I mused. “Oh, wait, afternoon. Want me to throw some bacon and eggs together?”
There was still no answer. I saw a flash of blonde hair pass me and I frowned when I realized Isabella was trying to get out the front door. It was triple-locked, and soon enough I heard her wrestling with the chain lock.
“Isabella? What are you doing?” I stood up and scratched my head, walking over to the door. What I saw would have made me laugh if it didn’t look so weird. Isabella was dressed only in house slippers and one of my button-down shirts. It barely covered her ass and I watched her long, tanned legs bracing against the floor as she tried to yank the door open. My cock twitched and stirred in my pants as the delicious scoop of Isabella’s ass shook and trembled underneath the thin fabric. “You forget something?” I joked, leaning against the wall. Isabella’s blonde hair flashed over her shoulder and she glared at me as she turned around.
She held something out to me that glistened in the low light. “What the fuck is this?” Isabella hissed in a low whisper. It was the locket my father had given me, the locket that had belonged to Gianni. Isabella was wearing the other half around her neck.
I laughed. “Baby, you goin’ through my stuff now? Don’t I get any measure of privacy?”
Isabella made a fist and swung back. When I realized she was actually going to hit me, I caught her fist in mid-air. Isabella’s swing was surprisingly strong, but I was much stronger, and I caught her easily. For a moment, we struggled like that. I was holding her arm a few inches away from my face. She wriggled and tried to slip out of my grasp, but I took a step forward and grabbed her other arm, holding her firm. She struggled against me and tried to bash her head against mine, but I ducked out of the way.
“Fuck you!” Isabella said. She reared back and spat at me.
I dodged, and started laughing. “You’re so cute when you’re pissed off, baby,” I told her mildly. “Come on, sit down, we’ll talk about this.”
I let go of Isabella’s arm and she kept swinging wildly at me. She swung too hard and crashed to the floor. Dropping to my knees, I grabbed her before she could make too much of an impact. She was red-faced and screaming, like an angry cat trapped in an alley.
“Come on, honey,” I said through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to fight me like this.”
Isabella struggled and made sounds like a wild animal. Finally, I grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, so her body was flat against the wall. Her tits were sticking out, quivering, showing how afraid she was. When I tried to look in her face, she screwed her eyes shut and looked away.
“Isabella, calm down,” I said in a serious, solemn tone. “I don’t have time to fuck around with shit like this. Come on, tell me what the fuck is the matter. Take a deep breath.”
Isabella was hyperventilating and trying to gasp in air.
I shook my head as she tried to fight me again. “I’m really getting tired of this shit,” I said under my breath. “Either you calm down, or I’m locking you up in the bedroom,” I told her. “Come the fuck on, Isabella. I’m not a fucking mind reader. I’m going to let you down, now, okay?”
Slowly, I released Isabella’s wrists. She rubbed them with each hand, giving me a wounded expression and glaring at me with her icy blue eyes. “I hate you,” she said softly. “You lied to me from the beginning.” She held up the necklace again, then threw it at my head. I dodged and the pendant hit the wall behind me before sliding to the floor. “You always lied, Zane. You always fucking lied to me.”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t,” I told her in a calm voice. “I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t know until after we’d slept together, until after this had already happened,” I added, gesturing to her tummy that was growing rounder by the day. “I didn’t know until afterwards. I swear to god, Isabella.”
Isabella looked at me. She bit her lip. “I don’t know whether or not I can believe you,” she said in a low, soft voice. “I don’t think I can trust anything else you say to me, Zane.”
I rolled my eyes. “This is total bullshit, Isabella,” I said. “Come the fuck on. What would I have to gain by lying to you?”
Isabella looked at me, her blue eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know.” She sniffled. As I watched, she crumpled on the floor until she was hugging her tan knees with her skinny, tan arms. “I don’t know anything. Everyone lies to me! I don’t have any family! I didn’t have a singing career! And now you’re basically holding me hostage!”
I frowned. “You think that ring on your hand means I’m holding you hostage? I’m hurt, Isabella.”
She glared at me but didn’t respond. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said flatly. “I don’t think I can be with you anymore.”
I walked over to the table, sat down, and patted the tabletop with my hand. “Come sit. We’ll talk.”
Isabella glared at me but she didn’t move. Instead, she hunched over more tightly, flipping her head down so she was hidden by a mass of blonde hair.
“Come on,” I repeated. “I’m not gonna sit here all fuckin’ day. I had fuckin’ plans until you came running downstairs like a banshee out of hell.”
She looked up at me and blinked. “I hate you,” she said softly.
“I don’t give a shit,” I replied mildly. “You’re stuck with me for now. I’m your baby daddy, remember?”
Isabella looked away. “I wish I weren’t pregnant,” she said softly. “I wish we had nothing to do with each other.”
I sighed. “Isabella, look. I’m not gonna say this again. We have to get this shit taken care of, okay? Come on, sit down and I’ll tell you everything. Yes, everything.”
Isabella gazed at me through a mess of hair. “I don’t believe you. You had every chance to tell me from the beginning and you didn’t. Why should that change now? How do I know you won’t just tell me more lies?”
I ran a hand through my dark hair and rolled my eyes. I was getting really exasperated with her shit, and I just wanted to be alone, with a beer, maybe in a strip club somewhere. I couldn’t deal with any more of this weak feminine bullshit. Isabella had already spent more time crying in the past week than I’d seen in the past five years, and I needed a fucking break. “I don’t enjoy this any more than you do,” I said icily. “I tried to make things nice for you, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.”
Isabella looked chastened. Finally, she stood up and walked over to the table, holding her head high and her back straight. “Fine,” she snapped. “Tell me. Tell me everything, Zane, and don’t leave anything out this time.”
I took a deep breath. “You have to promise you’re gonna let me talk, okay? No interruptions. You let Zane speaky weaky and then we can talk.” I shot a sarcastic smile in her direction. “Sound good?”
Isabella rolled her blue eyes. “What
other choice do I have?”
I nodded, feeling satisfied. “Good,” I said. “Your father, Gianni Bianchi, was second-in-command to my father. He was in the mob, the mafia, the family business, whatever the fuck you wanna call it. He did a lot of bad shit, and I watched maybe a third of that go down. He was loyal, and my father loved him. My father is Lionel Ricci, head of the family business. He’s been in charge for over thirty years.”
Isabella looked at me with a shocked expression on her face. I could tell she wanted to interrupt but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction.
I continued. “And he left you a shit-ton of money, girl. Like, a huge fortune. And the reason I haven’t told you is because I was afraid if you were grabbed or kidnapped, that would be the first thing you’d tell your captors.” I raised my eyebrow at her and Isabella blushed deeply. “So, you can see, this has been for your own goddamn good. Fine goddamn job you’ve done of repaying me.”
Isabella blinked again. “My father didn’t have anything to do with the mob,” she said softly. “Mom always said he worked in construction and he died in an accident,” she added, glaring at me. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Zane. Don’t tell me lies about my father!” She started crying again, breaking down into sobs and propping her head up on her arms.
I let her cry for a few seconds, letting a deep sigh out and leaning back in my chair. “I ain’t lying to you anymore,” I hissed under my breath. “I told you I was gonna tell you the fuckin’ truth this time. It ain’t my problem if you don’t wanna believe it.”
Even though it was only the middle of the afternoon, I stood up and walked out of the kitchen towards the little bar I kept in the dining room. I needed a fucking drink, and damned if I wasn’t going to get one. Isabella’s sobs flooded the room with noisy, sniffling cries. She sounded like a little kid. My irritation with her was growing by the second. I was sick of dealing with this woman who acted like a tough broad, only to be confronted with the slightest notion of something off-color and then turned into a sniffling, sniveling little brat.
“Isabella, I don’t have time for this shit,” I called loudly. “I have some shit to get done today, so you better fuckin’ wrap up that crying jag soon.”
Isabella only sniffled and sobbed in response. Rolling my eyes, I poured myself a double neat whiskey and knocked the whole thing back in one gulp. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Jake’s number and held the phone up to my ear.
“Yo,” Jake said after the second ring. “What’s up, man?”
“You got any news on that deal?” I raised my eyebrows. “We gotta figure that shit out soon, dude. Lionel ain’t gonna sit around for much longer, and I can’t risk losing this promotion.”
Jake laughed, a rich, deep, throaty sound. “Sounds good, man,” he said, like I hadn’t just asked him a serious question. “You wanna talk about that later?”
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I wanna talk about that shit now, asshole. This was supposed to be worked out two weeks ago!”
Jake laughed again. “You can’t rush perfection, bro,” he said casually, in a way that infuriated me. I wished I could reach through the phone and punch him. “You can’t keep hustlin’ me like this. I ain’t got nothin’ for you.”
“Are you fuckin’ worthless? You promised me this deal ages ago! I bet you don’t even know any fuckin’ Russians! You’ve been lying to me this whole goddamn time!”
“Jesus, relax, Zane,” Jake said. “I’ve been busy, that’s all, fuckin’ busy. Which is more than your pampered ass can say.”
Seething, I hung up the phone without replying. Something was starting to smell like a rat, and that rat’s name was Jake. If he didn’t help me out soon, I had no idea what I was gonna start doing. I had to work out this deal, or else Lionel was gonna look me over when it came time to die. I had to do something.
“Yo, Isabella,” I said loudly, calling back into the kitchen. “You know anyone who does blow?”
Isabella gasped. “Zane, what the fuck are you talking about?” She sounded more horrified than ever. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah, I was joking,” I said loudly. Jesus. Fucking woman couldn’t even take a joke!
Chapter 23
Isabella
I couldn’t stop crying. No matter what I did, the tears kept falling more quickly than I could wipe them away. My face was a mess of snot and tears and I knew I probably looked horrible, but I didn’t know what to do. Zane had just dropped the biggest lie on me of all time: my father was in the mob, and I was some kind of heiress. I shook my head. I hated Zane. I wished I’d never laid eyes on Zane Ricci, that I’d never met him. I wished I’d spent the rest of my life as a spinster, missing Kyle, my one true love.
The fact that I’d had a nightmare about Kyle trying to rape me earlier had completely escaped my mind. Right now, I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. I hated myself for falling into Zane’s trap and for not listening to my gut. I never should have gone home with him; hell, I never should have let him buy me a drink! This was all horrible, and it was all my fault. I hated myself more than I’d ever hated myself before. And I hated this baby in my belly, because it reminded me of him and what I’d done. It reminded me I’d actively taken steps to ruin my own life.
I couldn’t believe he’d lied to me. I couldn’t believe he’d told me my father had been involved in organized crime! My father! Gianni Bianchi, the family man, the man who had charmed my mother into falling in love with him. The man who had been so protective of me as a baby that Mom had said he’d kept the window shades pulled tight, just because he didn’t want anyone to even seen me.
I couldn’t believe it.
“Zane,” I called loudly. “Come in here.” My tears had stopped for a moment and I wiped my nose on my sleeve, leaving a wet, iridescent streak.
“What?” Zane came in, leaning against the frame of the door. He looked just as sexy as ever: muscular torso exposed in a tank top, dark hair slicked back, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. I had to look away or else I knew I would start to get aroused. Damn pregnancy. Turning me into a goddamn broodmare.
“I want you to sit down,” I said calmly. “And explain to me why you lied. Why did you tell me my father was involved in organized crime? And where the hell did you get that locket?” I tried hard to keep my voice quiet but it was difficult.
Zane frowned. “I wasn’t lying to you,” Zane said slowly. I glared at him and he lowered his ass down into a chair. “I was telling the truth, Isabella.”
“Bullshit,” I said softly, shaking my head. “You were lying, and I know you were. Why did you tell me that shit? Are you trying to make me feel bad for you? Or are you trying to get me used to a lifetime of crime?” I frowned at him. “I don’t want our baby involved in this shit,” I said defensively. “I never want our baby involved in anything illegal, you hear me?”
Zane laughed, a full-throated sound that came from his belly and bubbled up through his throat. “I ain’t lyin’,” he said again, shaking his head at me. “You’re really something else, Isabella. Why do you think I’m trying to fool you?”
I glared. “This is serious. My father was a good man. He loved his family, he loved his wife, and he loved me. He never would have done anything to put us in danger, you hear me? My father was a good man.” My voice was shaking and I couldn’t figure out why.
Zane raised his eyebrows. “Well, honey, I didn’t say he was a monster,” he replied. “I didn’t say shit about him being a good man or not. All I said was he was my father’s second-in-command.”
“And what happened to him?” I narrowed my eyes. “If you know so fuckin’ much about my family, what happened to him? How did he die? How did he live?”
Zane clasped his hand over his heart and made a sentimental face at me. “Oh, how did he live?” Zane threw a hand to his forehead and threw his head back. “How did he live? Are you fucking kidding me, Isabella? This isn’t a goddamned soap opera!”
“I kn
ow,” I said through gritted teeth. “That’s why I want you to stop lying to me.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him, trying to look as evil as I could manage. “I want you to tell me the truth.”
Zane grinned. “Oh, so you want the truth now?” He nodded at me. “You really want the truth? The whole truth and nothing but the truth?”
“Yes!” I cried, feeling exasperated. “Yes, I want to hear the fucking truth!”
Zane raised his eyebrows at me. “So, she wants the truth now, huh?” He looked around the room like he was faced with an audience. “She wants the truth?”
“Yes!” I practically yelled. “Yes, I want the fucking truth!”
“Good,” Zane said. He grinned and leaned over conspiratorially. “Okay, Isabella. The truth is…your father was in the mob! He was second-in-command to Lionel Ricci, of the famous Ricci family. He killed people! He did drugs! He was in the fucking mafia! How many other fucking times do I have to fucking tell you?” Zane was raging and loud and he made a fist with his hand and slammed it down on the tabletop. “He was in the fucking mob!”
