18. ISABELLA

Chapter 18

ISABELLA

Six Weeks Later

"Bella!" Stacy's voice seems far away. "Are you okay?"

"What happened?" I rub my temples, feeling groggy.

"You passed out— again! " Stacy looks at me with concern in her eyes. "Pavel has gone to get your prescription for iron and the other stuff the doctor prescribed yesterday."

"It's all the damn vomiting." My throat burns from it, and I've gone through so much toothpaste to disguise the acidic taste. "I hope Pavel gets me something for that."

"That's what pregnancy does to you," Stacy points out and smiles. "Makes you sick, giddy, and moody."

"I'm not moody!" snaps through my gritted teeth before my eyes widen. "Fuck. I'm moody."

Stacy nods. "Yup, poor Davey tip-toes around you. Even Pavel cowers when you get all snappy." Her grin broadens. "Just like the princess you are." She winks. "I brought you some freshly squeezed apple juice."

"Thank you." My hands close over the glass, cooled just like I like it with some ice in the juice. "It's the only thing I can stomach at the moment—apples."

"Can you believe we've been on Konstantin's friend's ranch for six weeks already?" Stacy flops back against the sofa, pulling my legs over her lap.

"I can't believe I'm fucking six weeks pregnant!" My hand goes to my still-flat belly. "Jesus. How did that happen?"

"I know you were a virgin, Bella…" Stacy teases. "But do I really need to tell you the story of birds and bees?"

Laughing, I hit her with a cushion and then down my juice. "Why would a woman do this to herself?" Lying back, my head sinks into the pillow my brother has stashed all over the large ranch house in case I have one of my spells. "I just want to go horseback riding again and not feel sick every time a certain smell hits me. Fuck, even the smell of roses makes me want to hurl."

"Don't mention that again," Stacy warns me. "Konstantin has already threatened to get rid of the horses if you insist."

"Why is my life just filled with overbearing men?" I growl.

"At least you have family that loves you." Stacy's voice drops, that dark shadow flashes in her eyes, and she gives me a tight smile. "I don't give a fuck if I never see my parents or my brother again." She snorts. "I bet they don't even know I'm gone."

Frowning, I watch her closely. I had a crush on Stacy's older brother, Harry Thompson, for as long as I can remember. While Stacy would tease me about him, she never encouraged it.

Now that I think about it, Stacy always steered me clear of Harry. I always thought it was because she didn't want me dating her brother because it would impact our friendship if anything bad happened, and Stacy never got along with him.

"I'm sure they do." I pat her arm, comforting. "And fuck them if they don't. You have us. We're your family."

"That you are." Stacy's head turns toward the front living room door that's nearest to the front entry hall. Her eyes light up. "Isn't Konstantin finally coming home tomorrow?" She glances at me.

Whenever my brother's around, Stacy lights up like a Christmas tree, and he is so gentle with her. I'm not sure what to make of their relationship. I'm not an expert on love, but I'm sure that's what it looks like based on the way those two look at each other.

"I hardly got to know my brother in the two weeks we got here before he had to leave for Russia." I lie back against the cushioning and sigh while Stacy massages my feet. "It feels like Konstantin has been gone for so long."

"Four weeks." Stacy glances at me.

"I hope our uncle in Russia is okay." My brow creases, looking at Stacy questioningly. "Are we really thinking of going there with him next time so we can be in Russia when the babies are born?" I rub my stomach.

Stacy's brows shoot up. "You keep saying that like you're torn about it."

"Well, I think going to Russia might be a good idea." I shake my head. "I know America is huge, but where the Belovs are concerned, this country is too small to hide from them for long."

"No, not about Russia." Stacy pushes a point on my foot, and I wince. "Sorry." She rubs more gently. "I mean, you keep saying, babies—plural."

"Do I?" My brows shoot up, realizing she's right. "Oh!" I shrug.

After just coming around from yet another fainting spell, I don't feel like talking about my pregnancy right now because that means thinking about my baby's father. I don't want to think about Andrey, as that's all I seem to do these days.

"My father was a twin, but his brother died before I was born, according to Genevra." My frown deepens. "You know, I still can't believe I never realized in all these years how Genevra was always the one trying to keep my mother's memory alive."

"Before Genevra's husband died, your mother and she were best friends," Stacy tells me.

"How do you know that?"

"Lots of time spent in your kitchen eating Genevra's amazing Italian cooking." Stacy grins. "She may have been as stiff and strict as a school marm, but whoa, could she cook."

"Stacy, how could I have been so blind…" my voice trails off. It's been six weeks, but I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I never knew who my father was at all. "To everything?"

"Your father is an extremely clever man, especially at deception and manipulation." Her eyes are filled with compassion and understanding, but there's something else there as well.

Something I can now see Stacy is keeping hidden. Fuck, and I now realize whatever that something is, it must've been there all the time. I just never saw it because I wasn't looking hard enough.

I'm the world's worst fucking friend. I was so wrapped up in my pity party of trying to get out from under my father's thumb I didn't see the shadows haunting my best friend's eyes.

Stacy always just seemed to be together, free-spirited, didn't give a fuck what anyone thought, and did her own thing. I didn't realize that was all just a cover. Not until we got here, and I've watched her over the past six weeks.

There's something softer, more vulnerable, and haunting inside her. And the little fucking suppressed princess that I am, I didn't even see it. Jesus. Yet Stacy has always been there for me.

I look at Stacy. She must know more than she's told me. She does hedge every time I try to ask. We're living on a ranch, and when the conversation moves to that topic, Stacy's suddenly got somewhere to be. On a ranch!

What? Is she having tea parties with the fucking horses? Although she does spend a lot of time with the animals. Stacy has always loved horses. My heart warms. I am so grateful that she and Davy have decided to come with me. I'd have worried about them if I'd gone on my own.

"I'm so glad you and Davey came with me." I feel my eyes mist over, thinking of what they did for me.

"We were always coming with you, Bella." Stacy's eyes darken with emotion. "Not a fucking chance were we going to let you out in the big bad world alone, and like you said, we're family."

Sitting up, I reach over and take her hand. "Please, tell me about my father, Konstantin, and what's up between the two of you." She's about to do that thing where she hedges and suddenly has to be somewhere. "And this time, you're not suddenly going to remember a riding or self-defense training session."

"Bella." Stacy's face crumples, and she looks at me pleadingly. "Please wait for Konstantin."

"No!" The word comes out a lot more forceful than I meant it to, and I see her flinch. "Sorry." I hold up my hand. "Stacy, I've had things kept from me my entire life. I feel like a mushroom being kept in the dark and fed a lot of shit."

"It wasn't all shit."

"Really?" My brows raise, giving her an are you fucking kidding me look. "Shit, people must think I'm a naive kid seeing everything through the rose-colored glasses my father designed for me." I see her open her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "And no, that is not a woe-is-me thing. I just can't believe I've lived in this cocoon, slap in the middle of a crime family, and I didn't even realize it." My eyes close. "Fuck, people must I'm such an idiot or entitled little princess."

"No one thinks that, Bella."

"Andrey does!" Shit . And there he is, popping into my thoughts again. "I thought he was referring to me as a princess because he thought I was an entitled bratty rich girl." I take a breath. "Now I know it was because I'm an entitled, bratty, rich mafia princess."

"I'm sure he realized you weren't aware of who your father really was," Stacy consoles me.

"But you knew." Shit, I didn't mean to sound so accusing. Stacy blows out a breath.

"Yes." Stacy nods, and her eyes drop.

"Everyone's probably thinking, how could I not know who my father really was?" I fall back against the pillow with my hands over my face. "It's been right there in front of me all this time."

Jesus, I hate myself for being such a pathetic whiny woe-is me bitch right now. But this is not about woes. This is about my entire life being one big fucking lie. I feel like Jim Carey in The Truman Show, where Truman had been living his whole life in a reality show, and he didn't even know it.

People were playing parts in my life, and an entire world was crafted to keep me from seeing the truth.

My eyes widen. What if Stacy's one of the characters my father planted in my life? Like an NPC in a video game to make it look more realistic. Shit, I'm not Truman, I'm Free Guy! I've been living in a neatly constructed video game world with my father as the game designer and player.

No, I can't think of Stacy like that. I'm sure Konstantin would've known if she was. I still don't understand why he hates our father so much, why or how he was shipped to Russia. More importantly, no one has told me why the fuck my father told me he was dead. Did he even know Konstantin was still alive?

"Your father made sure everyone in your life didn't know who he really was, and everyone close to you who did know was careful not to tell you," Stacy explains. "Your father is a scary fucking man. He has something on everyone in your life."

"Does he have anything on you?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. My heart sinks. No, please don't let my fears about Stacy be true—don't let her be an NPC placed in my life by my father.

"Yes."

And there goes my heart shattering onto the floor at my feet before the fear, suspicion, and anger start seeping through my veins. My eyes narrow. I have to stop myself from pulling my feet off Stacy's lap so she doesn't know I'm feeling these emotions—no more flying off the handle and letting my emotions affect my strategies.

"What?" Don't snap, Isabella . I give myself a stern talking-to. Remain calm. Level headed. "What does my father have on you?" Uh-oh. My brain is just not shifting into gear in time to stop my tongue from lashing out. "Is that why you're here? Have you been my friend this whole time because my father made you? Are you just an NPC positioned in my life, by my father?"

Okay, that was not calm and level-headed. I give myself a mental shake. That was more like a war cry.

"What?" Stacy looks like I've just slapped her across the face. "No!" She shakes her head. "God, Bella, you're my best friend. The only… the only…" She swallows and nearly gasps as the shadows in her eyes darken and are laced with fear. "The only safe space I had growing up. Well, besides when we went to boarding school." She turns to me. "Even after I found out who your father was, your house was the only place that felt like a home or a place where I wasn't always afraid that…"

"What?" My brows are knitted so tightly together that I'm starting to get a headache as I try to figure out what the fuck she's talking about. "Stacy, what the hell do you mean?"

Stacy runs a hand through her hair before hugging my legs once again. "Promise you won't hate me?" Her eyes meet mine, and this time, I suck in a breath at the pain in them. "Or judge me? I know I'm broken, but when I'm around you, Davey, Genevra, Konstantin, and …" She swallows. "Well, you all make me feel safe, you know. Like I can mend and be a whole person."

"Jesus, Stacy!" I breathe, sitting up and swinging my legs off her lap to fold them in front of me. "Why on earth would I ever judge you? You've always had my back, been my strength, and the person I lived the life I want to live through."

Stacy snorts. "Most of that was an illusion." Her words surprise me. "If you knew what my life was really like, you wouldn't want to live it. In fact, I'd rather have lived yours."

"Seriously?" Now, I am baffled. "Stacy, you're the most put together, don't give a damn, badass I know."

"Again, an illusion," Stacy admits. "A disguise I put on to hide who I really am."

"I've known you since we were born," I remind her. "You're my invincible friend, Stacy. I grab her hand. "My superhero."

"Trust me, Bells, I'm not." Stacy shakes her head, and her eyes are surprisingly bright with unshed tears. "I'm a frightened, broken kid inside. The only reason I'm still sane or learned to push back is because of a woman with a hard shell but a big heart on the inside, my best friend, Davey, you, your brother, and…"

Stacy swallows before continuing, "This is going to sound strange, but also your father." I start to pull my hand away as that cold feeling hits me again, and I'm thinking she's a fucking mole. But she grabs my hand. "But not in the way you think."

"Then enlighten me because, to be honest, Stacy, I'm beginning to feel uncomfortable," I tell her honestly. "Like my father is going to charge through that door at any minute because you've been giving updates these past six weeks."

Her eyes widen in surprise, then fill with anger. "Not a fucking chance would I do that for your asshole of a motherfucking father." Her eyes narrow. "And trust me when I say mother fucking I mean that quite literally because your father and my mother used to fuck on a regular basis."

"What?" My eyes nearly pop out of my head, and I choke on my spit.

"Shit, Bella." Stacy grabs the bottle of water on the table, handing it to me before patting me on the back as I go into a full-blown choke. "Here, drink."

Eventually, I get my choke reflex under control after glugging down the water, hoping that it won't lead to another bout of vomiting. "Jesus, Stacy. Why didn't you ever tell me?" Another thought hits me. "Does your father know?"

"I don't think he gives a shit." Stacy shrugs. "They haven't slept in the same bedroom since I was about thirteen. Or maybe even sooner than that." Her brow creases. "I only found out by accident when I mistakenly went to my parents for help. My father was with some whore he'd picked up at the Velvet Lounge, and my mother… she was in the room across the hall from him."

"You see," I point at her with the lid in my hand, "I should know that."

"Trust me, if I could've told you, I would have," Stacy tells me. "At first, I was so shocked. Then, even more so when my mother and father shat me out for disturbing them and didn't believe what I was telling them. They accused me of telling tales because I was jealous and trying to get my brother into trouble."

"What did your brother do?" A prickling sensation started to creep up my spine.

"He came home from a party drunk," Stacy says. Her eyes drop, and she starts to fiddle with her hands. The cold feeling inside me starts to intensify. "You know how you always had a crush on Harry?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Ever wonder why I never encouraged the relationship and always tried to have you avoid him?" Stacy looks at me, and her eyes are even heavier and tormented now.

"I thought you didn't want me to be with him because he was your brother, and it would be weird for us if anything bad happened between me and Harry."

"No." She shakes her head. "It's because I didn't want him to hurt you."

"Stacy, what are you trying to tell me?" A ringing starts in my ears.

"That night, I went to find my parents. Harry had come home drunk from a party and climbed into bed with me." Stacy closed her eyes, and I felt a massive wave of shock dump over me. "He started touching me and telling me how beautiful my young little body was starting to look. How I'd been teasing him by flaunting it with my tight jeans and short little shorts."

"Fuck, Stacy!"

"I managed to get away that first night. I locked myself in a guest bedroom." Her eyes are closed. "A month went by, and I thought maybe it was because he was drunk."

"My parents went away for a weekend. The weekend of your thirteenth birthday."

I remember that party. That was the first time I noticed Harry looking at me. I can remember feeling so thrilled.

"I went to him and told him to stay away from you. He was like an old man compared to us as he was seventeen."

"Is that why he left so abruptly?"

Stacy nods. "That night." Her jaw clenches. "That was the first night…"

I can see she's struggling, and my mind is reeling. Jesus, she was going through all this, and I didn't know! How fucking self-absorbed was I?

"He barged into my room. I'd just gotten into my pajamas. He accused me of being jealous of his affection for you." Stacy starts picking at her fingers. "I told him it wasn't that. I just think he's too old for you, and he slapped me. So hard I had a ringing in my ears for days."

"Stacy!" She squeezed my hand.

"I don't remember a lot after he grabbed me by the throat and threw me on my bed." Tears roll down her cheeks. "Every night after that, for two weeks, he'd come into my room."

She sniffs and continues. "I tried everything. Locking my door, but Harry would just break it down and then tell my parents I had a temper tantrum and kicked my door in." She sobbed and talked between the sobs. "One night, Harry was particularly violent and angry. I wouldn't do what he wanted me to do. So he punched me, and once he started to hit me, he wouldn't stop." She swallows and wipes her cheek. "I ran to my mother's room when I was able to get away from him, and that's when I found your father and my mother together."

"Holy, fuck, Stacy!' What the hell do you say to that? "Why didn't you tell me?" A memory hits me. "Wait. That was the year James and I went to that Colorado bootcamp. I came back, and you'd fallen down your stairs."

"Now you know what really happened." She gives me a watery smile.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was the deal your father made with me."

"What?" I splutter.

"I knew your father was not who you thought he was. I'd figured that out a long time ago. But that's the night I knew for definite no one fucked with Marco Moretti." Her hands shake as she rubs her nose. "My mother was furious I'd disturbed her and your father. She was screaming at me about being clumsy, but your father took one look at me and knew." She reached for the other bottle of water. "He flew out of my mother's room so fast, and that was the last night Harry laid a hand on me because your father threatened to kill him if he did."

"How did he threaten you?"

"He told me that I was under his protection and Harry wouldn't lay a hand on me ever again," Stacy looks at me, and I see guilt and shame shining in her eyes.

"What was the price of my father's protection?"

"All I had to do was never tell you who he was, that he was fucking my mother, or about Harry. He didn't want the darkness of his world to touch you. Marco lied to me and told me he wanted you to have the choice he or your mother never had about how you wanted to live your life." She looks at me with such remorse. "Please, Bella, forgive me for how I betrayed you. But he asked me to ensure you remained ignorant of it all and to keep you away from Harry."