Redeeming the Darkness

Chapter Eighteen - Ivy

We were less than three hours away from our interview for the magazine company Trina set up for us, which put me at over three weeks of no sleep.

While I'd listened to Zane when he told me to start eating, and you could no longer see my ribs, I still felt like I'd been beaten down.

Zane on the other hand, looked like he'd been beaten up, because he had been. His eyes were black and he had one large cut currently healing on his forehead. His beard, that hadn't been touched in nearly a month, covered whatever wounds he had on or around his mouth. It was under his shirt that looked the worst. Bruises of all colors covered his ribs and back.

When he'd come upstairs that morning to remind me of the interview I almost cried and pleaded for him to reschedule. I wasn't strong enough to look like nothing was wrong, especially in front of someone that would ask us such personal questions. I tried to control my shaking fingers as he went through the things I was and wasn't allowed to talk about. The last few weeks were on the 'not' list.

I was allowed to gush about our honeymoon and how happy I was, making things up if I needed to. He told me I wasn't allowed to answer anything personal about him but could answer whatever questions I wanted about my life before I met him.

He told me I could make up our love story.

I stood, straightening my yellow, knee-length dress, when I heard the doorbell ring. I walked into the hall to see Sandro standing, waiting for me. He gave me a reassuring smile and followed me to the door since this was the only way I was now allowed to answer it. Allowing a drug dealer into your home apparently makes your husband lose trust in your judgement.

We all knew it was the people from the magazine, but Zane and Sandro didn't like to take chances.

I opened it to a woman the same height as me. She was dressed in a suit, looking business-like all the way down to her very adorable glasses. I gave her a reserved smile and stretched out my hand to shake hers.

"Hello, you must be Laurel, I'm Ivy."

"Hello, Mrs. Landis. Nice to meet you." She looked like she was struggling between excitement and trying to remain professional.

"Please, follow me," I said, leading her into the living room. "Would you like a cup of coffee? Water?"

"No, thank you. I'm okay."

"If you'll have a seat, I'll go tell Zane you're here."

She smiled, and I left the room in search of Zane. He was where I thought he'd be, in the basement, shut inside his office. Without knocking I opened the door. The laptop was closed, and he was resting his head on his arms that were folded on his desk.

"Zane," I spoke into the silence. "She's here."

He lifted his head and looked at me for a moment before he stood. When he reached me, for some stupid reason, I thought he would hug or reassure me somehow. All he said was, "Don't mess up," and he left. I forced the hurt away and told myself it didn't matter. It wasn't like we were in love and we didn't have a real marriage by any means. I told myself that I couldn't care less about his words or his attitude toward me. My thoughts were ineffective, though. I cared about him too much to not care about how he'd been treating me.

Instead of being the beaten down, depressed girl I felt like, I squared my shoulders and pulled out the attitude I'd been graced with at birth. I walked into the living room and sat beside Zane on the couch. Laurel was seated on the chair and Sandro was standing in the corner of the room quirking an eyebrow at me. I gave him a confident smile and grabbed Zane's hand in my own.