Chapter 11

11

Zara

T he giant sparkling diamond on my finger feels heavy, like a burden rather than an expensive gift. A burden that legally binds me to Creed Ferraro.

I have no clue how much it’s worth. If I had to guess, about a hundred grand. That’s enough money to live on for months if I ever have to pawn it, and this one was the smallest diamond the jeweler brought with him. I don’t blame the man if he’s working off commission, but it’s going to get caught on everything.

“You don’t like the ring?” Creed asks from his seat beside me on the ride back to his building. We had a quick ceremony, even a few photos, and picked out rings all within about ten minutes. It seems like something as life changing as marriage should take longer than the time it takes to order a coffee.

“I’ll get used to it,” I tell him, even though it’s a lie. I’m stashing it as soon as I can to ensure I don’t lose something so valuable .

At least our matching platinum bands are simple enough not to cause me any trouble.

Wedding bands.

It’s official.

And why in the world did I tell Creed I would never say never while stroking his very long, very hard erection before the vows?

He was giving me an out, a chance to tell him I didn’t want him and never would, that sex would not be part of our marriage. But when I asked him why he wanted me to reject him, he just had to go and say, “ Because there are already a million and one filthy ideas about what I would like to do to you swirling around in my head, and hearing your rejection may be the only thing that stops those thoughts from continuing to multiply.”

I like being wanted by the handsome, intimidating man almost as much as I like hearing him openly admit that he wants me. He owned up to his desire for me, but so far, he’s been respectful enough not to try to just take what he wants.

Well, at least he was respectful last night and this morning. Guess I’ll find out how patient he can be during our “honeymoon.”

His words also helped me feel like I have a little more control in this unusual arrangement.

When we pull into the parking garage, Creed tells the driver, “You can let us out here. We’ll be driving to the Hamptons alone. Try not to call me, Lor.”

“Only if it’s an emergency,” the older man promises, swiveling around in the passenger seat. “Congrats and enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Thanks for being there today,” Creed tells him before he opens his door and slides out. I meet him behind the SUV where we finally head to the vehicle of doom.

“I’ll roll the windows down and let it air out before we leave. Not that it will help much.”

“How long is this trip going to take?” I ask .

“You’ve never been to the Hamptons?”

“No. I can’t afford the bus ticket to get there from here, much less a place to stay.”

A giant diamond on my finger and a vacation in the Hamptons are things I never even thought to dream of because they were so unfathomable.

When Creed holds his breath while opening the driver door, releasing the stench, it definitely grounds me back into reality.

Sure, my life includes unexpected and expensive things now, but it comes with a few downsides like dead men in rug burritos.

This is my life now.

No matter what happens in a month or a year from now, last night changed me in a way that I won’t ever be able to escape.

Maybe that’s why I feel a weird sense of camaraderie with Creed rather than fearing him. He hasn’t done anything I haven’t wanted to do myself.

Once all the windows are rolled down, he steps out of the vehicle and opens all the doors while sucking in a deep breath of fresh air. “That’s…even worse than I imagined.”

“We could stop at a gas station and get some air fresheners to hang.”

“A few dozen may make it slightly more bearable. Ready?”

“Yes,” I agree before glancing down at my beautiful ivory dress.

“What?” Creed asks when I don’t go around to get into the passenger seat.

“My dress is going to be ruined. There’s no way the smell will come out.”

“So?”

“So, it’s too pretty to treat it so badly.”

“It’s not like you’ll ever wear it again.”

“True, but it’s supposed to be a keepsake, something to pass down to my daughter.”

Oh shit .

I didn’t mean to let that little truth slip. Not that it matters now that we’re married. I’ll have to tell Creed at some point that I’m a mother.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to catch on that I meant my actual daughter rather than a hypothetical one in the future.

“I’ll buy you a new dress just like that one,” he says.

A replacement dress won’t be the same because it won’t be the one I wore for the actual wedding. But I decide to just get in the smelly SUV and let it go.

An hour later, even with every variety of car freshener the gas station had, hanging from the rearview and vents, I still think I may throw up.

“We should’ve done this last night,” I mutter, my voice nasally because I’ve resorted to holding my nose.

“We weren’t married last night. Spousal privilege can’t be backdated.” Creed is leaning to his left, half his head out the window.

“You couldn’t have worked your mobster magic and convinced that drunken judge who performed the ceremony to backdate the paperwork?”

“He may have refused,” Creed replies tightly. “Besides, it’s over and done now.”

Reaching for one of the air fresheners hooked to the vent, he pulls it off and tosses it into the backseat. It’s soon followed by a few hanging ones too.

“Like that will help?”

“We just need a distraction, something else to think about.” He turns up the satellite radio tuned in to a rock station loud enough to hear it but still talk to each other. “Why don’t you tell me what you were referring to last night when you said you get fucked over for free? ”

“I’d rather talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“How smooth you are at lying.”

“When have I fucking lied to you?” he snaps, sounding offended.

“It wasn’t to me, but that was a nice little fictional story you came up with earlier when you were telling Lorenzo how we met.”

I probably should’ve chosen anything else to talk about rather than bringing up Creed’s brother.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he says softly. “Carmine convinced me to go over and talk to you that night. Of course, he didn’t know what you wanted at the time, but he did say to thank him in my wedding toast for not taking you home.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“He even snapped a photo of you. That’s what I used to have a PI track you down.”

“Oh.”

“I could’ve used the club video if I needed to, but the photo was better quality, much clearer. After I was released from jail, it only took a day for a private investigator to give me your name, address, and employer. I waited until after the funeral to track you down.”

So that’s how he found me. From a photo his brother took just moments before he was killed.

And I know that this is it, the perfect opening for me to explain to Creed why I did what I did that night. We’re married now. He should know.

I just hope I can trust him with all the information he needs to destroy me.