Chapter 19 Isabella
Isabella
“Spotting is perfectly normal during pregnancy,” Dr. Coleman said. “Especially after sex.”
Lorenzo had hauled ass to the doctor after we finished mopping up Jonathan’s studio. I had told him that I was fine. I wasn’t cramping or anything, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
When I pulled up my shirt, the doctor checked the cut on my stomach to make sure that there weren’t any infections.
When it checked out, he brought out the doppler and found the baby’s heartbeat without an issue.
And he hadn’t blinked an eye when Lorenzo insisted on an ultrasound.
The tech was quick to find the baby and point out its little heartbeat.
When we saw its movement with our own eyes, Lorenzo finally relaxed.
“Outside of sex, what causes spotting?” I asked. The night that I had my first episode of spotting, Lorenzo and I hadn’t even touched each other.
“Stress, usually,” Dr. Coleman said with a little shrug. “Sometimes, it just happens anyway. Pregnancy is a trauma to the body, even in the best, most healthy pregnancies. All that growing and shifting of organs causes damage.”
That made sense. “So, is it common to have spotting multiple times during a pregnancy?”
The doctor nodded. “If we saw it too often, I might recommend bedrest or something similar to make sure that nothing else was going on, but every pregnancy is different. Some women spot every day; some women never do.” He cocked his head. “Has this happened before?”
Aware of Lorenzo’s eyes on me, I nodded. “It was stress related,” I said, without going into detail. “I had cramps then too, which I don’t have now.” I felt, more than saw, Lorenzo go stiff.
“That’s not entirely surprising. When did it happen?”
“A week or so ago.” Lorenzo drew in a sharp breath.
“So, when I came to the estate to check on you,” Dr. Coleman hummed and made a note in my chart. “You didn’t tell me at the time.”
“I was a little out of it.”
He smiled at me blandly. “I remember. How long did it go on?”
“A few hours,” I said. “But the morning after, I was totally fine, and I haven’t seen any blood since then until today.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it then,” Dr. Coleman said with a wide, look-at-me-I’m-such-a-friendly-doctor smile. “Since the pain and spotting stopped, and your ultrasound indicates a strong heartbeat, we can chalk it up to ‘pregnancy sucks sometimes’ and leave it at that.”
We thanked the doctor for his time—or, at least, I did—and headed back to the parking garage. I knew without looking at Lorenzo that he was upset. Pissed-off vibes practically radiated from him. “I didn’t want to worry you,” I said when he opened my car door.
He let out a sound that was almost a growl. “Not now, dolcezza.”
“But—”
Lorenzo grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it in the parking garage of our doctor’s office. Yes?”
I couldn’t nod with the grip he had on me. “Yes.”
He let me go and motioned for me to climb in.
I thought the ride back to the estate would be a silent one, but instead, Lorenzo surprised me when he asked, “Did you like Jonathan’s design?
Or should I start looking for a few different shops for us to visit?
We have time with the pregnancy; we don’t need to settle. ”
The stencil was still on my skin, and I lamented that I was going to have to wash it off in the shower tonight. “I really loved it,” I said. “Did you pick the theme?”
He nodded. “I wanted something to represent you enduring what you had and coming out the other side a stronger person. Jonathan took that and ran with it.”
Maybe it should have made me uncomfortable that Lorenzo planned so much of this tattoo himself, but it made me feel claimed.
Like I belonged to him…which I hated…but also didn’t.
I had long since accepted that how I felt about Lorenzo bordered on the edge of “too much.” He had awakened things in me that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with, even now.
“Get that look off of your face, Isabella,” Lorenzo grunted, eyes on the road ahead of us.
“What look?”
“You want me to fuck you.” He waited a moment for me to deny it, but I didn’t because he was right. “We just left the doctor because you’ve been spotting, and you want me to find some darkened alley for us, don’t you?”
I deflated. He was angry, even if he was trying to tease. That bitter edge in his voice was unmistakable. “No, I don’t,” I said. “I just want to go home.”
Lorenzo agreed. “You’re going straight upstairs for a nap,” he said. “You need your rest.”
LORENZO
Anger thrummed in my veins, like a drumbeat that I couldn’t hear, but I could feel it in my chest. Isabella had gone straight to our room, like she’d promised; it didn’t make me feel better in the slightest.
“How’d it go at the White Hart?” Damian asked. “Did she find a design?”
I grunted. “We’ll call after the pregnancy is over to set up the appointment.”
Damian studied me for a moment. “You don’t look happy,” he said.
“I thought you’d come in here crowing if Isabella went with the idea.
” He had been sure that Isabella would flat walk out of the tattoo parlor when she heard that I had set everything up and gave Jonathan the specs.
But I knew my dolcezza; I knew how she would react.
Thinking about the tattoo parlor had me clenching my jaw. I explained a little bit about her spotting and cramps. “She didn’t tell me about that.”
“Did she explain why?”
“Give me something else to think about for now,” I said, ignoring the question. I didn’t want to talk about why I was upset or hear whatever excuse she made as to why she never told me anything about it. It would only make things worse.
A light flickered in my vicecapo’s eyes. “We got an interesting ping from our men at the Harbor,” Damian said slyly. “There’s a shipment coming that the workers all had to sign NDAs for.”
My interest was officially piqued. “What’s the cache?”
“A little present for the US military.”
It could be anything from weapons to vehicles to first aid supplies.
We wouldn’t know until we cracked open the shipping containers.
But I wanted it. If only for the intricacies it was going to take to get our hands on it; it was the kind of exercise that kept my men sharp, and we usually ended up with a tidy profit besides.
The military didn’t like parting with their things, after all.
“Make sure our men are there to meet that particular shipment.” Damian nodded, but it was all too easy to see that he wasn’t telling me something.
“Just spit it out, vicecapo, I don’t have the patience for this shit today. ”
“The Russian Syndicate has plans to take the cache for themselves.”
“Fuck,” I swore, slapping my hand against my desk. “I am sick of the fucking Russians.”
“No Volkovs are involved, as far as we can tell,” Damian said. “But with him gone, the other families in the Syndicate are moving together to get this shipment.”
“Any word from the O’Connellys?” The idea of those assholes getting the cache was worse than the Volkovs getting it.
“No,” Damian admitted. “But you know the Irish won’t leave this alone either.”
That didn’t make me feel even the slightest bit better…
and now I had even more reason to want whatever was coming in.
Even if it ended up being something useless.
Not that it would be, I was sure. I still didn’t want either group to have a chance at it.
“Pick the best men we have,” I said. “I don’t care if they have to camp at the dock every night this week, I better have that cache in hand. Do you understand?”
Damian nodded, and then he was sifting through his files and assembling the men he trusted to give me what I want. “On it, Boss,” he said.
“Grazie.”