“He’s right,” I interrupt, my hands burning with the need to snatch my daughter away from him, no matter what it takes or costs. “It’s been a bad night. I didn’t . . .” I swallow my pride to clear room for the lie. “I forgot to take my medication, like he said.”

Caleb smiles at me indulgently.

“You see, officers,” he says. “All a misunderstanding.”

“Well, with something like an abduction accusation,” the first officer says, discomfort creeping into his voice and expression even as he uncuffs me, “we still have to document the incident.”

“Of course, document it.” Caleb’s stare mocks and warns me. “I understand, but we won’t be having this kind of trouble again, will we, babe?”

I rub my wrists, crossing to Caleb immediately. I reach for Sarai, but he doesn’t let her go. We hold each other’s stare, a silent war of wills I’ll have to wait for the right time to win.

Caleb finally releases Sarai. I clutch her to me, breathing in her sweet baby smell, burying my nose in her hair to hide my tears.

“I’ll drive.” Caleb opens the driver’s side door.

“But what about your car?” I ask.

“Oh, he’ll drive it home.” Caleb nods toward his Ferrari a few feet away.

Ramone steps out of the car, circling around to the driver’s side. Even in the darkness, his cold stare penetrates my clothes and leaves my skin clammy.

“Our bodyguard was the one who actually first noted Iris’s erratic behavior at the game tonight,” Caleb tells the officers, but his eyes are set on me. He’s making sure I understand that Ramone is his ally in this ruse. “He was concerned days ago but wasn’t sure he should say anything. He actually called social services.”

I freeze in the process of buckling Sarai into her car seat, glancing over my shoulder to catch Caleb’s stare.

“Of course, I’ve told him not to interfere that way again.” Caleb’s voice is chiding. “He thought he was doing what was best for Sarai, but it’ll leave my fiancée some explaining to do.”

This worsens by the second. Every lie Caleb has told is a straightjacket, hampering me, making me look like a madwoman.

How will I get out of this?

I climb into the car, watching through the windshield as the officers get Caleb to autograph their citation pads.

Once the cops are gone, Ramone and Caleb stand outside talking. Probably plotting how to best hold me hostage in that house while Caleb is on the road. I knew I felt a shift between us, but I had no idea how my life would be turned upside down.

In the midst of tonight’s soap opera, the mundane intrudes. My breasts hurt so bad, tight with milk because I missed a feeding. Sarai stares up at me—hungry, alert, impatient. She pats my breast, a sure signal that I have about two seconds before she starts wailing.

I take her in, her face a tiny replica of mine: demanding and defenseless. My whole world swaddled in a blanket. She’s happily suckling, and those feelings of resentment and confusion I had for her, for motherhood, in the beginning are completely foreign now. I barely remember my world when she wasn’t the axis. The soft weight of her in my arms once felt like a burden. Now, she feels like a privilege I don’t deserve. I’m willing to ride through hell on gasoline wheels for this little girl.

I look up and see the devil.

Caleb stands at the hood of the car, the stony lines of his face illuminated by the headlights, his eyes screaming obscenities. My stomach roils. This monster has been inside of me.

He opens the driver’s side door, and in the car’s interior light, his hair and golden skin appear almost angelic, but his eyes are demonic. His stare grows hungry and possessive as he watches me feed Sarai. My mind must like to torture me because it flashes back to the All-Star Game when I fed her while talking to August. Maybe in some parallel universe, I’m still in that room, soaking up his kindness and feeling sexy under the want of his stare.

I glance at Caleb’s implacable profile, the cruel promise of his mouth and the tightening of his hands on the wheel, like he wishes it was my neck. We don’t speak a word, but this won’t go unpunished.

19

Iris

“It’s not here,” I mumble to the empty bedroom. I rifle through the random items in my bedside drawer, none of which are my journal. I was completely, embarrassingly transparent in that journal regarding my conflicted feelings about motherhood—the resentment of my pregnancy. So many dark, lonely days I turned to the blank pages to pour out my emotions.

And it’s not here.

Did Caleb take my journal? I know how damning the turbulence of that season looks on paper. I’m ashamed to read it alone, much less have it exposed to someone else’s judgment. In Caleb’s hands, my most vulnerable moments are another weapon in his arsenal.

“Looking for something?” Caleb asks from the door.

I don’t answer, but face him, coaxing the drawer closed with my knee. I watch him and wait.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Iris.” His voice sends shivers over my nerve endings. “You shouldn’t have tried to leave me.”

“You left me no choice,” I sit on the edge of the bed, relieved to have Sarai fed and asleep while I deal with this—while I focus on how to untangle all these lies so I can get us away from him. “I told you what would happen if you hit me.”

“I hit you because you insulted me.” He tilts his head, coming to stand directly in front of me. “A dirty play, huh? You seem to have a soft spot for my old buddy August.”

I don’t respond, but wait for him to continue.

“I saw you looking at him,” he whispers, chips of ice in his eyes. “And I saw him looking at you.”

“No, you must have imagined it.” I drop my glance to the hands folded in my lap. “I barely know him really, Caleb.”

“You don t have to know him to want to fuck him, though, do you?”

My head snaps up. The rage prowling in his eyes is on a flimsy leash.

“But you don’t get to fuck him,” Caleb hisses. He jerks me close, palming the back of my head. He presses our noses and foreheads together, his breath fanning over my lips. “You only get to fuck me.”

He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small silver pistol. I’ve never seen this side of him, and I’ve never seen this gun. I’ve been oblivious. It may cost my life.

He brings the gun to my temple. Fear is the calamity of my heartbeat behind my ribs. It’s chaos in my veins, roaring in my ears and rushing to my head. Fear is a signal fire that puts my body on notice.

He uses the gun to tuck hair behind my ear. “I want you out of those clothes.”

“God, Caleb, please no,” I whisper. “Not like this.”

“You think you have options? Choices?” His vicious laughter rumbles from his chest. “You and that pathetic journal have made all of this too easy.”

“Where is it? I want my journal.”

“And I wanted you out of those clothes twenty seconds ago.” He nods to the jeans and T-shirt I wore to tonight’s game. “That journal is just another page of my insurance policy with you. I said, clothes off.”

With trembling fingers, I tug the shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I lift my legs just enough to slide my jeans down. My toes curl into the rug covering the hardwood floor.

“The underwear, too,” he says, his voice dipping to a pant. A pulse ticks in his jaw. He’s seen me without clothes more times than I can count, but when the bra falls away and the panties hit the floor, I’m violated by the stare of a stranger.

“Lie back,” he rasps, his hooded glare lacerating my nakedness.

I grit my teeth, determined to resist, but Sarai sighs in her sleep over the baby monitor, a sound of innocence and contentment. I’d do anything to preserve that—to protect her from the bastard that is her father.

With my knees bent and my legs hanging over the edge of the bed, I lie back. He walks to the side and towers over me, his smile crafted from meanness and glee.

“We’re going to negotiate new rules, you and me.” He places the pistol against my lips. I whimper and begin trembling. Violence is poised to strike.

“Shhh.” He leans down, brushing my hair back and gently, carefully pushing the pistol into my mouth, tapping my teeth.

A scream slices through my mind. I taste my fear—roll it around on my tongue like a tart mint. I wait for it to dissolve, but it never does. It slides down my throat whole, plunges into my chest and scrapes my ribs. It puddles in my belly, a sludge of dread. I dare not move. My eyes plead for mercy, but there’s none in his eyes. They’re just mirrors for his black soul.

There’s a shadow on his soul.

Lo was right, and it’s too late. If only I could go back and see things differently. Do things differently. Choose differently.

Oh, God. Please get me out of this. Please spare me for my baby.

“New rule number one.” His eyes fix on my lips wrapped around the gun’s muzzle. “You don’t drive. Ramone will stay here with you when I’m on the road, and he’ll take you anywhere you need to go. He’ll make sure you always come home to me.”

I’m having trouble swallowing with my lips open around the gun. Saliva pools in my mouth and runs from the corner to mix with the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“I would advise you not to bother Lotus with the details of our arrangement,” Caleb continues. “I know what she does. Where she works. About her fourth-floor walk-up in Brooklyn. You saw what I did to August tonight. That’s nothing compared to what I’d do to her. Anyone who tries to come between us, I’ll dispose of.”

For the first time, I’m glad Lotus and I are on the outs. I don’t want her near the mess of my life. I can’t handle anyone else being hurt because of me. I have to focus on Sarai. Worrying about anyone else’s safety will only distract me.

“We understand each other?” he asks.