Page 20 of Power Games

Life

"You're pregnant," Charles repeated, numbly.

He'd come home just three minutes ago and the first words out of his mouth had been, "I went to my lawyer today to talk about getting a divorce. I think it's time, don't you?"

Izzy hadn't been shocked, or even pissed. She just sighed, and said, "No, that just won't do. Not now. I'm pregnant."

Charles was pretty damn sure that if she was, he wasn't the father. He hadn't touched her for, what, six months now? If she was pregnant, it was more recent than that: her stomach, currently on display as she wore a top cropped right under her breasts, was as flat and muscular as ever.

His mind raced, taking in the new piece of information. Shit. Divorcing Izzy had been one thing. Divorcing her while pregnant...he'd behatedfor it. He could explain that he wasn't the father, but whatever way he thought about it, he was in for an ugly, very public battle.

He wondered what Vanessa would have to say about that. Actually, he didn't. He wasn't stupid. Getting rid of Izzy now would be setting his carefully crafted image on fire, and adding gasoline on top. Never mind a potential political career he'd never even considered before; this would ruin Jacobs Enterprises, and taint all of his actions for the foreseeable future.

He had no choice.

Actually he did have a choice, and so did Izzy.

"Let's make one thing perfectly clear. If you're keeping that child, and you’re keeping my name, you're fucking done spreading your legs to the first available cock. Done. Understood? I catch you touching anyone, once, and we're through."

Izzy was quick to agree, of course. "Sure."

The problem was, he wasn't a stupid twenty-something, and he'd spent over ten years with her now.

"I'll get my lawyer to put a contract together. It'll stipulate that at the first extramarital entanglement, you agree to walk away withnothing.Not a dollar from me. As for that child of yours, well, you better hope that it doesn't look too different from me."

Charles actually hoped he'd be his complete opposite. Black, Asian, anything different from his Italian-American roots. If he did, he'd be able to play the part of a poor betrayed husband and walk away from their toxic mess of a marriage without destroying his future.

He walked out of the house, unable to bear the thought of staying with Izzy even a moment longer.

It was his fault. At least partially. If he'd been stronger, smarter, less horny and stupid in his youth, he would have divorced her six years back. He cursed his own foolishness.

Unsurprisingly, his mind went to Vanessa McNamara, wondering what she'd think of him now.

Then he figured out he didn't want to wonder anymore. He glanced at the watch on his wrist. One in the morning; if she was back in LA, it was ten o'clock now. Definitely a little late, but he called anyway.

"Hey."

"Hellllllu, Chaaaarles."

He laughed. He'd never heard it from her, but he knewthattone of voice.She was drunk, or tipsy and working her way up to it.

"I'm catching you at a bad time, I take it?"

"Nope, I'm available." She giggled like it was the most hilarious thing she'd ever said. "How's it going?"

"Not well." He wondered if he should call back later, at a more appropriate time, but he just came out and said it. "Izzy's pregnant."

Silence. A dead silence.

"I'm not the father. I haven't touched her in a long time. But—"

"If you dump her now, and she cries about it, she will destroy your image, forever painting you as the guy who abandoned his knocked-up wife. No political career for you. Actually, no career at all for you."

He winced.

"How did you just sober up in two seconds?"

"Well, you did drop a bomb on me. That generally helps. Wait, how did you know I've been drinking?"

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